Editor's note: In this weekly feature China Daily gives voice to Asia and its people. The stories presented come mainly from the Asia News Network (ANN), of which China Daily is among its 20 leading titles.

Perhaps it is the canang sari incense that perpetually hovers in the Balinese air, or the detoxifying heat of the tropical sun, Michelle Anindya, a freelance journalist based in Bali, Indonesia, wrote in her story for The Jakarta Post.

Whatever it is, it seems that more and more urbanites are getting intoxicated with the so-called Bali high after spending time on the island: a euphoric bliss that can lead you to start making plans to leave the city life you have always known and chase the idyllic dream of laid-back island living.

Between going back to a stressful rat race through traffic-choked streets and the idea of an island life that seems to offer a degree of freedom from the punishing daily grind, the choice seems alluringly, deceptively simple.

But if there is one thing Anindya has learned since her one-way ticket to Bali eight years ago, it is that living here — or perhaps on any island — requires a constant renegotiation between our desires and the realities on the ground.

Anindya wrote that she probably had it better than most. Coming to Bali with the gullibility of a fresh-out-of-college girl, she had nothing to lose.

But for many who make the move, they see the island dream as a second chance — a way to divorce themselves from a toxic environment, to reconnect with their once free-spirited selves, or to finally truly enjoy life, even if only during their golden years.

The latter was what Sukma Mentari wanted: a retirement home in Bali. She is no stranger to the island, having been in and out of it since she was a young girl. But after she bought a piece of land in 2014 to begin working on this dream, her life changed dramatically in ways she had not anticipated.

Not wanting to leave the land idle, she decided to build a guesthouse on it as a business.

"Back then it was something that I thought I could monitor from Jakarta," Sukma said. But the problematic construction process, which included workers disappearing on her, took such a toll that she said it was a "miracle" they could complete the guesthouse.

"This is one of the most difficult things I've ever done," said Sukma, who had to relocate to Bali in 2016, earlier than planned. "People think it's so fun to live in Bali. They have no idea how stressed we were about construction workers not showing up!"

Even when the guesthouse was finally up and running, Sukma still had to closely supervise her staff and manage bookings herself, finally admitting that "there was no way I couldn't be there full time".

Like Sukma, many who relocate to Bali soon realize that island living comes with its own set of challenges and complexities.

To start with, there is nothing pragmatic about it. It surely cannot be for the money. Building a business, especially in Bali, requires extensive local knowledge. Wages might be lower than in Jakarta, but the cost of living is not necessarily cheaper. And job opportunities are rather limited to hospitality.

Considering a peaceful retirement island? Prepare for all kinds of distractions. Children? Private schools are limited and expensive. The same goes for medical care in case of emergencies.

The dream of a work-life balance, typically involving picturesque walks along the shore during sunset, is evaporating as the traffic in Bali is almost comparable to big cities. Tourists can temporarily suspend their grasp on reality, attributing two-hour traffic jams to bad luck during peak season. But residents have no such luxury.

"The island we once knew is now gone," we say to ourselves with apathy.

What is left? Perhaps not much for some people. This sobering reality can throw others into an existential crisis. Buying a one-way ticket home might then seem like the quickest and least painful way out.