Here, there is no tourist marketing, no pretentious and vulgar displays of luxury nor the usual blah-blah of Bali “this paradise”. We are elsewhere. In a labyrinth, a tangle of memories and encounters of a unique man with other personalities of the same type… People who, by their talent alone, shaped the previous century and, consequently, its history. Originally from Manchuria, a refugee in the United States of Japanese citizenship, this professor and author of many books wishes his name not to be mentioned, undoubtedly out of finesse. “Call me a nomad”, playfully clarifies this old Chinaman who zigzags the globe all year round just to buy ginseng in Korea or admire Goya paintings in Madrid. Begun eleven years ago, at first as a private dwelling in mind, the first in a long life of eternal migrating, the site gradually transformed into a hotel, but especially into a work of art. “Here, it’s Disneyland without the brashness”, he still jokes.

The professor has lived all over the world, in Katmandu, in Istanbul, in Cracow, in Kyoto, in London, etc. Having discovered Bali in 1995, he decided to settle down here. “In my house, nothing is expensive ; everything is made with cheap and recycled materials. I wanted a touch of Mondrian. And I did not copy Gaudi”, he chides defensively. The end result, an extraordinary site, a one-of-a-kind. One is reminded of Rococo, of the French Riviera’s golden age, of Bauhaus, Ferdinand Cheval’s ideal palace, the symbolic universe of director Jodorowski, Miro. Rooms, suites and villas with themes which evoke his friends Man Ray, Hundertwasser, Giacometti, his fascination for Gandhi, Tagore, Coco Chanel, Marilyn Monroe, Klimt, Schiele, Kokoschka, Mrinalini Sarabhai, etc. “I am like a movie director, I have directed the scenes of my path through life”, he confides. In fact, michi is the Japanese word for tao…