Your Business in Bali: 4 Real Stories

Four citizens of the Russian Federation talk about their experiences: how to win over Australian customers, keep goats among rice fields or “drive out spirits” from a restaurant.

Sleeping textile brand Sleeping Culture

Nika radically changed her life at the age of 52 - she moved to Bali, where within a year she established the production and sewing of premium bed linen from Belgian linen and Japanese cotton, and within a month she opened a home textiles store.

"To decide to buy a one-way ticket, I had been maturing since 2013 when my son and I first visited Bali. I had traveled a lot, and in Moscow, I had a high-paying job - I can't say that my life was gray and unhappy. But I always sought to find myself and wanted to understand who I am on this planet.

I took a 20 kg suitcase, $1000, and flew away. I had neither friends nor fluent English. At first, I lived with a friend of my son's and worked in her café-bakery, where I was paid about 1 million rupees ($70) per month. Later, I managed to rent a house for myself, and I faced a problem. When I saw the bedding given to me, I thought: "How can anyone sleep on this?" I pondered the idea for about a month, trying to find quality bedding, but everywhere it was 70% polyester, 30% cotton - you lie down on it, and you feel uncomfortable from the heat. I always had a good understanding of fabrics, and that's when I realized I needed to sew the bedding myself."

"I only had $1000 in hand. With that money, I needed to find fabrics, a supplier, and a seamstress. Despite there being a lot of textiles in Indonesia, finding quality fabric was a problem. I opened Google Maps, marked textile shops, factories, markets, and visited them. Nothing satisfied me for a long time, but eventually, I found a supplier of Japanese cotton - expensive, but high-quality. I ordered five simple sets, which they sewed for me on the spot. We communicated mostly through gestures. My good Australian friend helped me get into English. He wrote down all the 'bedroom' terminology I needed for communicating with clients on a piece of paper."

"I paid $100 to a photographer who took pictures for me at my Australian friend's Balinese villa, and I gifted the first set of bedding to him. Word of mouth worked its magic, and Australians started coming to me. In the first month, I sold all the available sets through a Facebook page and broke even. I have almost no Russian clients because the products are quite expensive. One of my regular customers from Australia orders a lot of sets. Once I asked her, 'Who are you ordering so many sets for?' She replied, 'Myself! Because on your bedding, I feel like a queen.' Another client ordered bedding for herself and her dog."

"After cotton, I ventured into linen. I saw it in a textile shop, and it struck me that I should make linen products, which wasn't common here. But the price tag was staggering. A meter of good linen costs 450-600 thousand rupees ($30-40). I bought several types, about 1.5 meters each. I found a supplier who started selling me Belgian and Italian linen because the local linen left much to be desired, even though it was half the price. It takes up to 20 meters of fabric for one set of linen bedding, and it's sewn in three to four days. The final selling price is 3.4 million rupees ($250). I wondered for a long time if people would buy it, but for an Australian customer, it's not such a big amount overall."

“At some point, customers started asking about the store, because everyone wants to come, touch, look. I found a sponsor for its opening through my son. This is the owner of a modeling agency from Guangzhou. At about the third dinner together, I simply asked for money in my broken English, because I understood that there was no turning back. A week later, he answered me positively, without even asking about the business plan and return period, admitting that he had never seen women my age with such enthusiasm. I rented a space from a famous Balinese royal artist and paid him three years' rent in advance with investment money - 110 million rupiah ($8,000).

"In just a month, I did some minor repairs and ordered furniture. I had almost no helpers, and at the same time, I was delivering orders. The owner of the premises provided his team for repairs, but it took a lot of time due to the lifestyle of the Balinese - they have very frequent ceremonies for various occasions. I even had to install the sink myself. At first, it was hard to get used to this, but over time, I adapted, relaxed, and accepted this way of life as it is."

"Currently, in addition to bedding, the store offers towels, napkins, sleepwear, and handmade lace items. In the first month of the store's operation, I achieved a small net profit - about $1000. But I'm only on the path of development. I have two sewing machines. I hired a girl from Papua New Guinea who works as a salesperson, but I plan to train her in sewing. Now I'm focusing on returning my investments, and I also want to reach out to hotels and supply them with bedding. There are a couple of clients with whom we are negotiating wholesale supplies to Australia and New Zealand."

Usha Cafe&Bakery

Julia is the owner of a café and bakery on the outskirts of Ubud. The menu features European and Russian cuisine (including dumplings, pelmeni, borscht, and chebureki), but the main concept of the establishment is appetizing and large slices of cakes: blackcurrant honey cake, Napoleon, banana-chocolate cake with cheesecake filling and salted caramel.

"I never planned to get into the restaurant business, and before coming to Bali, I had no experience running a business. Moreover, I hardly ever cooked desserts. In 2014, I met my future husband in Bali, we stayed here for a long time, and I started cooking for him - baking a lot. At some point, my husband couldn't handle the volumes anymore, so I started making desserts to order, and quite successfully. Customers began to hint at the idea of ​​opening a restaurant."

"Investments (personal savings) amounted to about $80,000, which included: land rental, working with a notary and agent, repairs, decor, and hiring employees. We reinvest the income into expansion, employee salaries, and sustain our livelihoods."

To open a business here legally, the first step is to register a company (there is a specific set of activity codes that you assign to your company; they must coincide with the business activities) and obtain the necessary licenses. To do this, you need to consult a notary, often done through an agent.

Secondly, you need to find land. This is where the first difficulties arise: 85% of the land in Bali is not suitable for company registration - either there are no documents for it, or it does not fit the activity codes. Ideally, it's better to find land that meets all parameters from the start, so you won't need to obtain additional permits for it.

Thirdly, you need to formalize the lease agreement with a notary. Prices for their services vary. We found the most reasonable option - 1% of the transaction value, which is no different from those who charge 2.5%. So, we signed a lease contract for three years for 180 million rupees ($13,000), and we paid the notary 1.8 million rupees ($130).

Fourthly, the conditions of the PT Local ownership form that we initially had required us to register the company with two Indonesians. It's better to find them through trusted individuals. There are also agencies that, for a fee, provide their employees. We paid our "director" 6 million rupees ($430) per year, and our "commissioner" - 4 million rupees ($290). They, in turn, exist only nominally - they don't interfere in the company's affairs and don't appear in the restaurant. Since November 2018, Indonesia has started to attract investments, and the legislation allows you to register a company in your own name - so that's what we did."

"We didn't have any strategy or positioning. I was great at making desserts, but I understood that desserts alone wouldn't get us far. Initially, the menu only featured European cuisine. Many customers knew that the owners of Usha were Russian and started asking for "our" cuisine. However, we were sure there wouldn't be demand for it. We tried offering Russian dishes once a week and realized that there was a huge demand. Then we introduced a permanent menu with Russian items.

I taught our Indonesian female cooks how to make okroshka, borscht, Olivier salad, dumplings, and they handle it quite well. There are only 12 people in the team, as well as a courier and a gardener, as we have a large courtyard. We don't promote the project, and that's bad. Advertising would have been useful in the low season. We don't pay bloggers, and only later from friends do I find out that someone came and included us in their "selection of restaurants in Bali"."

"In running a business here, you can encounter a number of peculiarities. First, there's bureaucracy and the lengthy process of document processing. We registered the simplest form of business for a year and a half. This was due to the fact that our agent had numerous ceremonies and unexpected holidays.

Secondly, there's a lack of qualified personnel. During interviews, I focus on finding people who are easily trainable. Experienced individuals ask for more money, but they still have never cooked borscht, so we have to teach them from scratch. It's important to communicate with employees in Indonesian - it's a very simple language, and I learned it in just a month and a half."

"Thirdly, finding 'common ground'. Rumors about people closing establishments because they couldn't find common ground with the staff seemed exaggerated to me. But employees really do cry and quit if you even raise your voice slightly or look at them the wrong way - that's the peculiarity of the mentality here. Unfortunately, motivation through money and promotion doesn't work. The only option is to simply build good relationships."

"We're still getting on our feet and understanding that success lies ahead and requires a lot of work. Last summer marked a year since we opened, and we've had full capacity all the time, but we want something more. We never thought about closing, but there were moments when we could barely afford to pay salaries or had to delay them slightly. In the near future, we plan to update the menu, establish stable delivery of frozen products (dumplings, pelmeni), open another café in a different area, and open a store with frozen products and desserts."

Jewelry brand Donna Yolka, Georgian restaurant Tiflis

Julia manages to simultaneously run two radically different projects, working on one while "relaxing" on the other. She opened the only Georgian cuisine restaurant on the island and, practically unfamiliar with the intricacies of jewelry making, sells items with "imperfections" for $1000.

"The idea for both projects came about simultaneously. I had never been involved in the restaurant business before - it was emotionally and physically challenging. As a way to relax, I started attending courses and learning metalworking. Ten years ago, my husband and I decided to invest money in land in Bali. It wasn't a very successful decision because you can't just invest and forget about it. That was an indirect reason for staying here, and Bali has a way of drawing you in.

Over time, we decided to try making cheese because there was hardly any available here. Then we thought we could paint the walls in the neighboring building, bake and sell khachapuri there. In the end, one paint job wasn't enough, and a restaurant was 'accidentally' born. We didn't plan to do anything grandiose; we considered a small budget - roughly equivalent to the average cost of a car."

"I'm surprised that our restaurant didn't close in the first six months because we chose an incorrect strategy; there were many mistakes: an unfavorable location, the concept of Georgian cuisine (my husband is Georgian), which seemed unnecessary to anyone here, and then a crisis hit, the dollar rose, and we had very few tourists. We stayed afloat thanks to perseverance, quality food, and creating a warm, family atmosphere that people were drawn to."

"We had a contract with a Georgian family who worked for about two years, but then we trained Indonesians, and they cost tens of times less. Today we have about 20 employees. Their salaries should not be less than the minimum living wage - in our area, it's 2.5 million rupiahs ($200) per month, plus service charges and tips. We also pay bonuses for major local holidays and a 13th-month salary, but we need to be more careful with this. Once we paid our employees too much money, and after New Year's, none of them showed up for work because they could live off that salary for three months without working - that's the mentality."

"I still haven't quite figured out how to build relationships with Indonesians. But I've realized one thing: when you create a family atmosphere for them, they work better. I've managed to create such an atmosphere to the point that when I enter the restaurant, my employees shout, 'Our mommy is here!' But even that is not a guarantee. You have to be prepared for the fact that people may disappear out of the blue, go off the grid, turn off their phones, and you won't be able to find them, but they will definitely come back for their salary after some time."

"Due to the peculiarities of the local religion (worship of spirits), strange occurrences occasionally happen in the restaurant. The most memorable story involves a girl who allegedly became possessed by spirits while working. In the middle of a workday, she could fall into a trance or convulse on the floor - of course, this angered the customers, and they wrote to me in anger. Surveillance cameras revealed that it was all just a 'drama circle,' but all the employees believed it, and I fear they would have revolted against me if I had fired her - their religion should be taken seriously.

Once, we conducted an inventory and discovered that almost everything was missing: plates, spoons, even the TV remote control. When we asked the staff where all the inventory had gone, they said it was the dwarves running around: 'Don't you see them?' To 'chase away the dwarves' and 'exorcise the spirits' from the girl, we had to invite a local priest called 'mangku' and perform several ceremonies, each costing between $300 and $1000. The inventory immediately 'turned up,' but the girl was still dismissed by mutual agreement. So, one should be prepared for such expenses if working with Balinese people."

"My jewelry is a blend of restrained Scandinavian style with more whimsical Balinese elements. I wanted to create pieces that not only people would buy but also tell stories and share information about different stones and materials. Initially, I only used organic materials - bones, corals (sacred to the Balinese). Such jewelry is difficult to sell - they are quite expensive, fragile, and people don't understand how to wear them. That's why I started developing a line of more down-to-earth 'mass-market' items. I earn money from them to create authentic jewelry. I run an Instagram page where I tell stories related to each piece of jewelry. The restaurant actually helps me a lot with this, as I draw a lot of inspiration from it."

Another thing of mine is imperfections. In large industries, jewelry molds are made by automatic machines, and they turn out perfect. Here in Bali, you do everything by hand, it doesn’t turn out perfect, but that’s the point.”

"The metalworking courses here are not very expensive, but often held in challenging conditions and without quality equipment. A course consisting of several sessions can cost anywhere from $100 to $400. I stumbled upon mine accidentally: I was attending Indonesian language practice sessions, and there happened to be a small jewelry workshop next door specializing in metal casting. At that time, I had some stones and wanted to solder earrings for myself. I paid $20 for each session. However, I still lack knowledge; I'm not a jeweler. I come up with designs and hand them over to my small team for production: one wax modeler, one casting factory, and two people who finish work on the castings after they come from the factory."

"At first, I was just 'playing around.' I'd make one ring — sell it, make two with the money — sell them, until I ended up with about $5000 worth of jewelry. That's how it all started. My first customers were friends, but word of mouth didn't really take off, probably because of the price. I don't know how I sold jewelry for $1000 back then. Maybe because people wanted some exclusivity, and my jewelry is quite unique. Before the crisis, I held prices up to $1000, but now it's typically around $300. I also have jewelry priced from $50–70. Most of my clients are Russian because I can't articulate the story well in English yet, and they are buying into that too."

"Now I've hired a targetologist on outsourcing, and she has significantly boosted my sales. The advertising budget is $1000, $500 of which goes to the targetologist. As a result, the profit can range from $3000 to $10,000, depending on the season. Of course, this could be doubled, but it requires increasing productivity — I currently don't have the physical strength and time for that. And overall, here in Bali, you have to work hard, just like anywhere else. Many people come here and, after hearing mantras about their own destiny, think that everything will work out on its own. But that's an illusion."

Farm and food workshop

Ksenia doesn't have an official website or Instagram profile, but half of the island knows where to go for air-dried sausages, homemade cheese, smoked tuna, pickles, handmade truffles, and "bird's milk." In addition to a kitchen that even a chef would envy, Ksenia has a mini-farm with goats—a rare sight on Bali.

"For a long time, I worked as a waiter in good restaurants, so in my head, there's a whole encyclopedia of different flavor combinations and information about food and drinks. Eight years ago, I came to Bali and stayed. I didn't plan to work with gastronomy at all, but it all started because we started to miss something tasty that we were used to having at home: fresh bread, herring, smoked sausage, cheese. At that time, there was none of this on Bali. I started making everything myself and treating my boyfriend and friends who often came to visit us. Hosting guests is my second skill, which I possess, you could say, professionally. I have a tendency to go overboard, and I made a lot—cured herring in batches of 10 kilograms. Then the guests themselves started asking me to sell them something."

"My kitchen is not super professional yet, but a lot of equipment has been invested in it, just thermometers alone: for caramel, for meat, cold, hot, wired, wireless. There's none of this on Bali, I bring them from Russia or Canada, order them from China, ask friends to buy them for me. I receive many gifts because people see that I am passionate about my work: for example, I was as happy as a child when I got a pasta machine.

Also, my boyfriend is a handyman, and he helped me build various equipment: a smoker, furniture, and much more. I have several refrigerators, each costing around 2–3 million rupiahs ($140–220). For Christmas, I was given an ice generator, and it's the most unusual thing in the kitchen. It's a giant Japanese machine that produces 100 kg of crystal ice per day. This ice is perfect for cocktails—it's made at a certain temperature and has a completely different taste, it's aesthetic and a sign of quality. The price of the ice generator is 43 million rupiahs ($3000). I wanted to sell ice to pay for it, but it takes time.

In general, equipment is bought spontaneously and chaotically—I can go for flour and accidentally buy a frying pan for a million rupiahs ($70). And I also have four goats—for milk and cheese. My friend gave them to me; he has something like a petting zoo."

"It all started with small things, then there was a passion for cheese and sausages. During the rainy season (November to March), I can't make cheese. The humidity is very high, I have an open kitchen, so the curd is unstable. At one point, I wanted to focus only on cheese—I have a milk separator (for making cottage cheese), a special mold for aging large cheese heads, bacteria for blue and parmesan cheese. But, no matter how you look at it, making cheese on Bali is not profitable. There are no dairy cows here, and the milk is brought from the neighboring island of Java. From 100 liters of milk, only 10% turns into cheese—10 kilograms. And if you press and make cheddar or parmesan, it's only 6%. The milk cost (excluding electricity, labor, etc.) is 230,000 rupiahs ($16) per kilogram of smoked cheese "kosička", but we sell it for 350,000 ($25), including other expenses.

Sausage is much more profitable. I buy pork at the local market at retail price—70,000 rupiahs ($5) per kilogram. If you establish large-scale production, you need to go to farmers and negotiate wholesale supplies at reduced prices. I sell baked sausage, which takes two days to make, for 300,000 rupiahs ($22), and air-dried sausage, which hangs in the refrigerator for a month and dries out by 40%, for 600,000 rupiahs ($44). In general, sausage-making is a whole world: spices, meat fermentation, ripening periods. I test my sausage on clients—Spaniards, trying to make real chorizo (Spanish sausage), and find the perfect recipe."

"A year ago, I was invited to work at the well-known Seniman coffee shop and bar in Ubud. For some time before that, I supplied the owner with my handmade candies, cheese, and other products. He hired me as a sort of food and beverage art director at the bar. There, I can entertain guests with my snacks and cocktails, as well as sell all my gastronomic creations. I have two assistants who not only work with me at the bar but also come to my kitchen, where they observe the production process and learn to do it themselves. We split all the income equally, although my close ones believe that I should take the lion's share of the income. I give away a lot to friends, 'eat along the way,' and treat guests at the bar. It turns out that the business brings me money, but it hasn't fully covered my expenses yet."

"I can't call myself a chef; I'm more of a technologist. I'm fascinated by the technologies of making various things and terms like 'freeze-dried strawberries' or 'convection' in the oven. I enjoy exploring the raw food cuisine, which is currently trending and offers a lot of creativity."

I’m a little upset that every area of ​​my activity can be developed to the level of space, but so far there is little time for this.”