The History, Experience and Future of The Canggu Shortcut
The Canggu Shortcut may well be the most infuriating road in the world.
Just big enough to fit 1½ cars, though not small enough to enforce a one-way system, a standstill caused by a motorized game of chicken is as inevitable as beer pong at Old Man’s on a Wednesday.
Indeed, with so many head-turners, the streets of Canggu can be dangerous place to drive.
With the infrequency that drivers wear helmets - like the only good to come from the contents of their skulls is an abstract crimson mural along Batu Bolong - road safety might as well be something that the Canggu Community left in their homelands.
These days, the town seems constantly on the verge of a heart attack.
The Shortcut itself is enigmatic of modern Canggu; a clogged artery leading to a formerly sleepy seaside town that now never sleeps.
This unkempt, poorly maintained off-yellow brick road to the Wizard of Gu captures the very problem it may be inadvertently thwarting.
It may also be Canggu’s last line of defence.
A Shortcut to Canggu’s History
Once upon a time, there was no shortcut.
There were no motorbikes, no car’s, no concrete. Just fields of rice.
A sea of green all the way from Agung to the ocean.
It was where the local kids would go to do their growing up. A place to play when they didn’t want to be found.
Then in the 2000’s, the mud path that was previously used for bicycles was made into a road. This bicycle blueprint formed the architectural basis of what we know to be the Shortcut.
It was a concrete injection into paradise, piercing the Canggu bubble with a virus. A parasitic disease for which there is no known cure. Tourism.
The secret was out about the sleepy village. Originally, it was an Oasis for those Bali Expats and pioneering travelers away from the increasing hecticness of Kuta and Legian, areas forever lost to grottiness.
And for a moment in time, it was the coolest place on earth.
Alas, the holidaying hordes are attracted to good vibes like Aussies to Bintang singlets.
A gluttony of 5-star reviews, algorithmically driven or through word-of-mouth, has globally cemented a concept of what Canggu was like before it lost it’s way to artificiality, blandness and commercialization.
This is how the “Original Locals” came to call Canggu the Bule Kampung.
The Experience
Imagine it’s rush hour, and you’re running late for an engagement on the other side of Canggu.
Yet another appointment, sunset or Tinder date fallen victim to Bali time.
The Shortcut gamble is on.
You turn the corner, rattling over the shambolic paving.
Before you know it, it’s too late.
Exhaust fumes coughing down your gullet with no room for maneuver, you sit with one thought spiralling round your mind: “Why didn’t I just go around?”
It’s enough to break the Buddha.
Indeed, ladies in leopard-skin leotards, not 10 minutes out of Shavasana, can lose their Yogi patience on a road that mindfulness forgot.
It brings out the worst in us.
Deriding the selfishness of the moron in front - impeding oncoming traffic through ego and self-importance - only to follow in their slipstream in the very next instance.
All the while, bombarded by adverts for Bali’s most illustrious, pretentious and overhyped establishments as you wish your attention was anywhere else but the license plate in front of you.
Who knew that blood could boil so quickly?
With your focus totally consumed by this senseless design flaw, you internally brainstorm:
What to do about the Canggu Shortcut?
The Future of the Canggu Short Cut
Attempts have been made to bring order to the chaos.
Famously, the Canggu Pole lasted all of 36 hours before it was removed by Canggu’s concerned car-owning citizens.
Now, it exists as an IG page that suitably celebrates the “fails of Canggu”. The original can now be found at Kebab Brothers, effectively existing as a historical cultural art piece.
During the time of writing, a brand new banner flutters above a yellow cousin of the Canggu Pole that reads:
“Cars Cannot Enter, Except Motorbikes”
With the potential for Canggu Raya becoming even more congested, how much longer can a sign hold where a physical barrier failed?
The chatter about town, unconfirmed like a grapevine with no beginning or end, is that (the proverbial) they plan to widen the road to make it passable for cars.
This, surely, is the only solution the Godforsaken road is crying out for, no?
No.
Turn this “Shortcut” into “The Way” and paradise will be lost forever. Destined to be consumed by the escape artists and holiday makers who’s transience is as predictable as their superficial concern for the Island of the Gods.
If only this thoughtlessness didn’t apply to ourselves.
Yet, like any jam or congestion, one is never stuck in traffic. One is the traffic.
As it happens, this frustrating, illogical ode to poor planning is the one barrier to Canggu’s transformation into a concrete jungle.
Lose this unnatural obstacle to industrial development, and cement trucks will turnover with increasing tourism like a merry-go-round of gentrification.
Perhaps this was the original architects plan all along.
With Shamanic foresight, they sought to build an inoperative, shambolic Shortcut as a final bastion to halt the ceaseless March of Progress.
Long may their vision prevail and our patience be tested.
Otherwise, it’s next stop: Pererenan.
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