How to Be a Good Tourist in Bali

Dear fellow Indonesian,

First of all, please don’t take this open letter too seriously. Treat it as a loving, concerned letter your wise Tante Dewi might sent you after she heard how you misbehaved in your vacation. Have you ever heard of a complain made by your friend who just came back from Bali with his family: “Oh the Balinese are awful! They ignored us completely when we ordered and served the bules first even when we obviously arrived earlier”. I can’t deny it happened before and it will happen again. You can blame the post-colonial mentality or you can ask that friend of yours this question: “what did you do to get such treatment?”

You see, born and bred in this small island, I’ve seen you, my dearest fellow Indonesian, here annually, repeatedly. My brother even joked that there are 3 kinds of citizenship in Bali during high season: WNI, WNA and W.N.L (based on your car plates get it?). It seems like some sort of a national reflex in which Bali will be the answer whenever someone asked ‘where should we go for the next holiday’. I totally understand the urge of not thinking during holiday. Aren’t we all just love to not thinking of where to go next, how to get there or where to stay? No research needed. Just pack, bring your Nintendo gaming kids and voila, you’ve arrived in Bali. It just can’t be easier than that... except there are thousands more who thinks like you. Hence, the shocking, horrible, congested traffic from airport to Legian, where you’ve booked your hotel. Even locals and expats alike, are either hiding or fleeing the island whenever this happens.

The first best advice I could give you, one comerade to the other, is this: do not come here during high season or God forbid, peak season. You’ll have to pay extra for the flight and the hotel. You’ll have to queue in every porkish restaurants you’ve planned to eat and trust me, licking your pork ribs while being surrounded by impatient pork vultures who wish they’re beside you sitting and licking, is one of the most unpleasant eating experience you could have in your life, as experienced by yours truly recently.

Second advice: go outside Kuta for real Bali experience. Yes, yes, I understand it is very hard to come to Bali and not posing in front of Hard Rock Hotel. It’s unimaginable. It’s like going to Paris and not see the Eiffel Tower, or some sort. Kindly know that Kuta is not Bali. It’s a No Man’s Land of drunk Australian hipsters who barely legal to consume alcohol or first time backpackers who didn’t know any better. There’s way more of Bali than that. Hire a driver and stay far away from the crowd, that’s where the real Bali is. Go north, south or east. Hike, bike, swim and walk. Shut down your BlackBerry for a while and stop updating your Facebook status. Take the iPad away from your kids. Be a family. Chances are you’ll meet some of the nicest locals you will ever meet in you travel.

We know now that you’re a good tipper, easy spender and your wives shops for the whole neighborhood. Yes, we learned our lesson not to just counting on the Australians since that awful thing happened on 2002. We learned to bend our rules and put up with ten people staying in just one room. But really, it is so easy to earn our respect (you don’t even need to raise your voice and waving your platinum card). We couldn’t care less how much money you have back home, that’s not how we judge you. When you’re in a crowded restaurant, please wait to be seated, lower your intonation and volume then wait patiently. We’ll come. A nice, simple gesture like calling the waiter ‘bli’ or the waitress ‘mbok’ will get our attention. We tend to serve you even faster if you managed to not wearing the barong or bintang shirt. FYI, no self respected Balinese will wear those outside their home.

Bali is shrinking. There are more villas and less rice field. God knows what will happen in a decade. We might be known as The Island of Villas instead of temples. One thing for sure, you should know that as Balinese we have a high pride. We can put up with anything: Dutch, terrorists, Bakrie. We’re being called ‘noble savages’ all those years ago, not for nothing. We can smile our widest smile to you and ignore you completely if you’re being rude at us. One thing we can’t put up is when you’re being disrespectful because we do take it personally. After all, being on holiday doesn’t necessarily means we also let our manners on vacation either, aren’t we?

Sincerely yours,

SapiMalas

p.s: This is my personal observation. All the characters and places mentioned are real. However any resemblance to actual person is purely intentional (you know who you are, you rude bastard who cuts line at my queue and staring at me while I nibble on my pork ribs).

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Don Draper is Coming Back on 2012

All of you Mad Men fans, let's lit up our herbal ciggies and drink our whiskeys for hear and behold: Mad Men will be back! After a nerve wrecking limbo, we will soon get to see Don embarking on his second marriage with the tall, tanned and lovely Megan. Well, we still have another six or so months to actually see all of them back on screen but as long as they're back, no complain from me.

Meanwhile, perhaps we can all enjoy playing dress up with these classic cut and Mad Men inspired collection from Banana Republic and the talented Mad Men's stylish Janie Bryant.

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Hunting Books in Bali Part II

Two years after Hunting Books in Bali Part I, I finally able to sit down and write a decent entry. Ubud as the art, culture and spiritual center of Bali has the best selection of books in the whole island. Travelers actually go there to read and contemplate, in between their busy schedule of meditation, yoga and aura reading classes. The annual Ubud Writers and Readers Festival also help to spark the literature virus to the small town. In no particular order, here they are.

Pondok Pekak Library and Learning Center

Aside from being the best library in Bali, where you can borrow books with all sort of genre during your stay in Bali, Pondok Pekak also offers art classes like Balinese dance, carving, painting and music. They have a very comprehensive collection for Indonesian interest. There’s also a special section books for sale with a very good price. I found some real treasure there (Frida Kahlo’s biography and The Memory Keepers Daughter). Deposit is required.

Ganesha Bookshop

Definitely my favorite used book shop in the island. There are many others but you can always count Ganesha for some sophisticated and interesting literature selection. Ubud sure does invites well read travelers from all over the globe. Prices started from 50,000 – 100,000 IDR and you can trade back for half the price. They recently put on an AC inside and thoughtfully provide wooden stool for a comfortable book browsing. There is also another Ganesha in Petitenget, housed inside Biku (tea house and a bookshop!) with comfy leather chair and romantic reading light.

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Singabore No More

I was seriously considering the title “Singapore’s Hotel Adventures” for this entry. I stayed at three different hotels (and one hostel) for four nights I was there. My luggage was creaking and wobbling by the time I reached my fourth hotel. Before my departure, I thought it would be an interesting material for a blog entry and indeed, it is.

The tiny ambitious country is one prime example of ‘what could have been’ when a determined government and citizens pour their energy to build and be the best of everything. South East Asian’s own Dubai, if you may. Broad and clean pavement where you can walk without being afraid of stepping on a hole, extraordinarily efficient public transport, impressive malls and shopping centers: everything the Indonesian wish their country could be. It is no surprise that Indonesian tourists are the main visitor of Singapore. It’s our playground to shop, transit, watch internationally acclaimed performances and lately, watching latest Hollywood movies banned in our country (long story deserved its own entry).

Five years has passed since my last visit and I feel it is time to check out Singabore, as how I fondly call her. Many have changed, of course. The new and much praised Terminal 3 at the most hospitable airport in the world, Changi. New builidings, new museums, new malls, new and projected MRT lines. It keeps on improving and amazed repeated visitors like me. Arriving at Changi was a luxury. Everything was so effortless and clear. Fifteen minutes from the moment you landed, you already can take your luggage and found your way out to the city.

I spent my first night in a hostel on Pinang St. Chosen because of its proximity to the hip Haji Lane, Kampong Glam, Bugis and Bras Basah. Aptly named The Superb Hub, the hostel only redeeming quality was the location. My private room was consisted of a locked window, a tiny bed and AC which I had to share with my neighbor since there’s not even a proper wall between us. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I could hear everything the guy next to me were doing (and vice versa). My “room” key was a lock and this is how I lock myself inside at night:

I spent my first day touring museums and Bras Basah complex, trying to score cheap books and serious culture. Singapore sure doesn’t disappoint. Five hours after I landed, I managed to watch an old animation film by Lotte Reiniger with live soundtrack from Icelandic band, Amiina; a contemporary art exhibition by talented South East Asian artists; and strolling through the chic Haji Lane. I slept with the original score of finger tapping on laptop, snoring, and late night check in complete with the owner’s explanation, barking dogs, drunken uncles and roaring scooter. Thank God for flu pills.

Second night was spent in a totally different way. If first day was yin, this time it was yang: Marina Bay Sands Hotel, the 24th floor. From no wall, I was flown into a bubble of luxury consisted of not one but two big screen TVs, my own vanity and walk in closet, Nespresso machine (!) and breath taking view of Singapore’s skyline. My brother joined me in this extravaganza and later, reluctantly to a special exhibition in the adjoining lotus like Art Science Museum. There were three amazing exhibitions at the same time going on: van Gogh Alive, Dali: Mind of a Genius and Shipwrecked: Tang Treasures and Monsoon Winds. As van Gogh’s die-hard fan, the installation blew me away. Picture yourself being surrounded by high definition projections of van Gogh’s irises, starry nights, wheat fields and sunflowers, while the music of Vivaldi and other impressionistic composer plays on. It was like being lost in Akira Kurosawa’s short film I watched many years ago. If you are a big fan of Vincent van Gogh, I urge you to come and see it for yourself.

Dali’s exhibition was also presented extraordinarily and I learned a lot of surrealism in one hour I was there than any other time in my life. For the lover of ceramic and Chinese wares, the Tang treasure would be amazing to see. I know nothing about ceramic but it was very well curated, preserved and restored. To think that those objects was shipwrecked and was buried under the sea for centuries was unthinkable. To think that it was founded in the Indonesia’s sea territory then now owned and displayed in Singapore, even more unthinkable. For the sake of the artifacts, I’m relieved. God knows what would happen to them if they are in the incapable hands of corrupted Indonesian authority. However there’s one side of me, the museum buff, who screamed ‘why’.

A serious bubble bath time, lounging at Singapore’s hijacked version of Bali’s KUDETA on the 57th floor, a deep undisturbed sleep and rush buffet breakfast later, we moved to the next accommodation Singapore was willing to offer and we could afford, an aging quiet hotel on Killiney Road, Orchard Grand Court. I had a love hate thing with Orchard Road. I love to shop there but I hate the fact that I barely can afford the things they sell. Luckily during my trip, Singapore is in the frenzy of the annual grandest sale. Needless to say, almost everybody I met on Orchard Road was Indonesian. You wouldn’t believe they’re from a poor developing country if you see the way they shop. That family with baby sitter queing in front of Gucci, yes definitely Indonesian. A bunch of well dressed and BlackBerry-ing young girls walking slowly. Yup, another Indonesian. In fact, Orchard Road is the shopping Mecca for Indonesian and thousand of them went there periodically for devout pilgrimage.

A special mention need to be make for the quiet and calmly tucked restaurants on Killiney Rd. Honestly, after my brief but memorable food trip to Penang, all the food I ate in Singapore was tasteless rubber. Then I found Killiney Kopitiam with their creation of buttery kaya toast and black coffee, which they’ve proudly have made since 1919. Few shops from there, I ate one of the best chicken rice I’ve ever eaten in my life. To think that such simple and no fuzz places have been operating there for years and so close to the touristy Orchard Road was just lovely. Indeed, most of their customers are locals and office workers.

Then to our fourth and last hotel, the 81 Dickson. There must be at least a hundred of 81 hotel chains all over Singapore, funded by ‘underworld money’ as our taxi driver cheekily said. Many are located in the infamous red district, Geylang. They’re as cheap as you can get in the inhospitably priced accommodation of Singapore. The room was small, clean and got all you need for just a sleep. The reason I chose this particular chain was its close distance to the infamous 24 hours shopping destination, Mustafa Center and Little India, which I’ve never been before. I’ve always been fascinated by Indian culture and Incredible India was my dream destination, so I was hoping Little India, a tiny world of India outside India, will cure me from the angst. And yes, I love Singapore’s Little India. The whiff of jasmine flower chains, fragrant basmati rice, and the crazy amount of musky incense smokes drifted out from each and every shop, the Bollywood songs and the colorful salwar kamiz and saris the women wears. I know it was nothing like India but such a sweet introduction it was. We ended the night by catching the last bus to Clarke Quay since my testosterone ridden brother was dying to see the “oo” in Hooters. Yes, it was a privilege to be able to walk anywhere, everywhere. In fact, walking in Singapore deserved to be recognized as its own destination.

Yet for some reason, line by Thoreau keeps popping in my mind: “City life. Millions of people being lonesome together”. I noticed the cold distance and lack of interaction amongst the people there. There was no spontaneity, gaiety, whatever you call it. Those small unimportant human contacts and meaningful encounters to magically color your day was absent. It was purely, strictly business. I would think twice about living there but I wouldn’t even think if somebody asks me to go there again. For now, Bali will do just fine.

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Penang on My Mind

If you have an expectation to read an in-depth article of Penang and its psyche, you can stop reading now. However if you are anything like me: food lover, Epicurean worshipper and old building admirer, do read on. To tell you the truth, I didn’t meet any locals and have a conversation with them about what it is like to live in historic food paradise. My encounter with the locals was so touristy and limited to shop keepers, concierge, waitress, tour guide and occasional locals on the street who gave us directions. I only had 3 days and 2 nights with more than a dozen dishes to try and old building to explore. I got no time for chit-chat.

Off we went, Miss K and I. Two similar minded culture vulture/foodie in our serious mission of eating our heart out in Georgetown. Two hours and a half later, we arrived in the tiny historic city, a living breathing, and fine example of post-colonialism study. There was a decaying Fort Cornwallis with rusty canons jutting out, British named streets like Lebuh Carnavon or Lebuh Macallum, a monument tribute for Queen Victoria. You know, the usual array of colonialism leftovers. Public transportation is quite well connected with free bus and shuttles inside the central Georgetown. We checked in our touristy well valued hotel, Cititel (mind you, location is very well situated and breakfast buffet does has its own appeal) then immediately took off so not to waste the rest of our time.

It’s so easy to walk around and get lost in Georgetown. Just make sure to keep dehydrated and use sunblock since the sun was quite unforgiving. I can keep on rambling about the beautiful harmony and the “Truly Asia” houses of faith: Goddess of Mercy temple, Kapitan Keling mosque, Maha Mariamman temple and St. George’s Cathedaral. All located close to each other plus the delightful and well presented Penang State Museum. However my favorite building as well as UNESCO’s was The Blue Mansion, Cheong Fatt Tze. If there’s one building I could gush about for hours, it would be this amazing private residence owned by an extremely rich merchant/minister/consul named Cheong Fatt Tze, Ph.D (Seriously. Read here for the complete biography). Part of its charm would be the guide, nay, Madame that took us through its past splendor. The tour lasted about an hour and was one of the funniest, most informative guided tours I’ve ever joined. The Madame joked, teased, explained and cajoled us with such a sweet charm about the mansion and what you could do with it (it’s a hotel and function hall), you wouldn’t mind the marketing. I learned so much about feng shui, Chinese architecture, the meaning of number 8 and the man behind the legend, the “Rockefeller of the East”.

Our first food was Nasi Kandar. A Moslem Indian delicacy consisted of fragrant biryani rice and assortment of meats, vegetable and soup rich in spices. Tasty, earthy and heavy: it’s perfect for lunch. Now, would it be terrible to say that we spent our nights not going around town but sitting prettily in dark theater watching movies? Because that’s precisely what happened. We were film tourists, desperate for culture and entertainment, being starved by crazy film taxation problem back home. Between Johnny Depp playing pirate and a Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s latest hilarious film, we sneaked out to eat in one of the most famous Penang’s hawker center: Gurney. The Asam Laksa was superb and worth a try.

Second day was spent in a half day tour booked through AirAsiaGo. It’s packed, well valued and gave us, two direction blind travelers in tight schedule, plenty of time to relax for the rest of the day. Tours included Penang Peranakan Mansion (another fine example of Chinese influenced mansion, similar to Cheong Fatt Tze), the majestic clan temple Khoo Kongsi and ehem, offers to visit chocolate gallery, pewter shop and batik shop. Special mention need to be made for es cendol at the back of the mansion, it was lip smacking delicious and worth a visit for its own sake. We refused the pewter and batik offer but curious about the chocolate gallery (which apparently an Asian version of Mr. Wonka’s factory if only he loved durian, mango and chilly chocolate). Take a stroll there if you’re a durian lover, since I’m sure you wouldn’t find chocolate with durian filling as good as that anywhere else.

We asked him to drop us in Chinatown. It is truth universally acknowledge that if there is a bunch of Chinese people together in one place, there will be good food. There between street stalls, plastic chairs and alumunium tables, we found the reason we came to Penang on the first place. Savory char kway teow, fried with crunchy pork fat, oyster and fresh shrimps. Hokkien Mie, a richly spiced seafood noodle with fish broth. Oyster omelette, perfectly beaten eggs with onions and juicy oysters, so soft it melts in your mouth. We didn’t talk in the next fifteen minutes, Miss K and I. We might have produced orgasmic grunts, since neighboring tables seemed to look at us weirdly.

To close our brief trip, later that night (after two films), we went to our last food center recommended by two person. Red Garden was the name. It sounds a bit whorish but we decided to give it a try. Upon entering the gate, we were welcomed by a young Chinese singer who wore bikini with a big ribbon on her butt (aha, hence the name). Old horny uncles drinking Heineken and slurping noodles was her audiences. I didn’t intend to make it sound so seedy, it was not that kind of place after all but never in million years I’d imagine myself eating while being entertained by a half naked girl, surrounded by horny uncles while there were kids running around. She was losing her voice by the time we nibbled our grilled stingray. When I swallowed my siu may and ha kaw, she was replaced by an older woman in tiger skin legging, short pants and see through tops, who half moaned her songs. I almost spurted my ha kaw from my nose when I heard it. It was that orgasmic. And folks, that’s how we wrapped our short visit.

I’d definitely be going back. I’ve dreamed of all those food ever since and trust me, once you tasted those collection of food in your mouth, there’s no going back. Penang has bewitched me with its old charm, intoxicated me with its historically rich flavor and aroma. She’s like an old hunchback Auntie who could snap a chicken’s neck and at the same time, made you a mean noodle soup in an old kitchen with gray walls and black stove. You can’t help but to miss it and asking for more noodle.

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