In 2017, I had the pleasure of visiting Krabi, a province on southern Thailand’s west coast. The location for the film version of Alex Garland’s novel The Beach, it is the stuff that bucket-lists are made of. 

And yet, what I remember most vividly is the food, but not in the way you might be thinking. To my bemusement, most – if not all – restaurants had menus filled with blown-up generic images of pizza and pasta. Local dishes were always listed on the last page, almost as an afterthought.

As curious as it seemed to me at the time, it is emblematic of how popular destinations in certain parts of Southeast Asia have adapted to the swarms of international tourists that descend every year.

Much like Krabi, Bali, an Indonesian island known for its iconic rice paddies and nightlife, is wildly popular amongst honeymooners and backpackers alike. Just a fortnight ago, however, it was confirmed by the local governor that Bali will only be reopened to international visitors in 2021. Accounting for 60% of the island’s Gross Regional Product, this is unfortunate news for the many locals who have had their livelihoods staked on tourism for generations.

Interestingly, Bali’s move to shutout visitors has inadvertently sparked a cultural shift. Left with few alternative employment opportunities, people are moving back to their home villages to take up farm work. For at least 2000 years, rice cultivation has been the lifeblood of Bali, permeating every aspect of Balinese culture. The now heavily Instagrammed rice fields are watered using the ancient Subak irrigation system, a mechanism that is simultaneously spiritual and communal; deeply ingrained in the local social structure. Unable to depend on foreign dollars, Bali is returning to its roots.

Considering that it ranks as the second most tourism dependent region globally, it seems likely we will continue to see similar trends emerge in other Southeast Asian counterparts. Indeed, sightings of wildlife returning to Thai beaches have prompted authorities to declare plans of closing national parks for four months annually, allowing nature a yearly opportunity to rehabilitate itself.

Who knows, perhaps the next time I visit Krabi, I’ll walk into a traditional restaurant to find a picture of Pad Kee Mao on the menu, proudly displayed front and centre.