| BALI STORY 2000 - Day 6. |
| Wednesday 20 September 2000. This IS a long one, seven pages, partly because its got a bit of yesterday in it but mainly because I get a bit maudlin and introspective and sink into useless philosophising again. If this is not to your fancy don�t go on. Skip to Day 7. Day 6. A massage from Wayan on the beach in front of the Bintang Bali Resort just up from the Holiday Inn (now known as the Bali Hai Resort and Spa), past the Pantai restaurant. This is what I�ve been hanging out for. The right way to start a day. I actually came down yesterday afternoon after checking in and as I walked down the beach of course I was approached by one of the many girls who offered a massage, but I refused asking where Wayan was. She yelled out down the beach, �AYO, WAYAN . . . . !� Adi popped her head up from behind the closest wall to see who was calling her friend Wayan and saw me. How they ever remember individual people from the hundreds they must see in a year or more is beyond me, but she recognised me and remembered. Down the steps she came, two at a time, even leaving her precious bags of sarongs, scarves, shirts, shorts and sox behind. � Papa, Papa, Papa . . � she called over and over again as she actually ran towards me, grabbing me in a bear hug with her feet dancing up and down off the sand. �You come! You come!� Yes, I had come and at this moment I realised why it was that I kept on coming back to Bali. Nowhere else that I could think of would I get this sort of a genuine welcome from almost strangers after an absence of sixteen months. When I was squeezed into stillness she suddenly let me go and turned to race off further up the beach joining the call, �WAYAN, WAYAN, - Papa come!� With damp eyes I confess I continued up the beach after her, aware of all the eyes turned my way, local and visitor alike. Ahead, at the far end of the Bintang Resort�s wall I saw Wayan appear to look after the commotion. When she saw me she too ran down the steps and along the beach, massage mat in hand, just reaching me ahead of Mistri who had appeared from somewhere. The bear hugs, back rubs and even kisses on the cheeks were repeated for what seemed ages amidst questions for Nell?, Chrees?, and long looks back down the beach to find them. �Later� I tried to explain, and succumbed to the pulling hands which led me up those steps to the shade of the trees and the thin foam and vinyl mattress which was quickly overlaid with fresh sarongs as I got my clothes off and sank down. They all looked the same except that Wayan was now wearing glasses. She just smiled and shrugged a little when I pointed to them and raised my eyebrows in silent question. It only occurs to me now, as I re-live this welcome, that I didn�t ever ask for a massage, nor did they ask if I wanted one, or did we haggle over price. Plainly I was going to get one ready or not. Wayan did the massage, as she was to do every time thereafter. I was hers it seemed and everyone else understood that. Adi just sat and held my hand in both of hers and Mistri Knelt and very gently rubbed the calf of my right leg. The questions about when we arrived, where we�d been, were we staying at �The Inn� again?, who was here and why not Scot? tumbled out but were gradually overtaken by their chatter to one another and then by silence except for the waves on the beach and the wind in the trees overhead. Adi couldn�t resist for long and did the nails of my hand and Mistri really got to work on my leg. Eventually, out of the fog came the voices of the others and although Wayan did not change position, Mistri and Adi got up to the welcome the others. Nell eventually settled down to haggle with Adi over the price for �X� scarves. (Where �X� is a large number as the maths teachers always said.) Chris chatted to them all in Bahasa Indo and Claire passed out some little Oleh olehs (gifts) to everyone, even the rubbernecks who had just come to see what was going on, before settling down for Mistri to give her a massage. A little storm had run along the beach stirring things as it went, but now it was gone like a summer whirlwind in a dry stubble paddock and things were back to normal again, whatever that really is. But all that really happened yesterday and this morning, well this morning was not much different. After the works, with a little bit of ointment #1 here and a quick wipe of salve #2 there for at least an hour, it was back to the hotel pool for some exercises and a few laps before the next anticipated delight, the Pantai for breakfast. I opted for the American breakfast again for Rp12,500, the Continental was Rp10,000 the Indonesian Rp11,500, the Pantai Sea Side Rp14,000 and the Special Omelette Rp14,000. We found that here as almost anywhere else, the Club Sandwich (for Rp13,750) is a real meal or a breakfast for two. There is a tailor who has a shop in the Pantai and Phil talked to him about embroidered promotional caps for Cherry Tree Farms in the Riverland of South Oz. I talked to him about caps for the Bali Travel Forum/Sammi and Sussi Bar on the beach at Legian which Chris and I have been planning. We had heard that caps could be made-to-order in the Matahari at Kuta, near the entrance. We had checked but not seen anything because we were looking in the store rather than just outside the entrance as we to later discovered. The tailor sounded sort of promising and we were to see him the next day but we were not impressed and because of our doubts we continued to ask around the streets. About a week later Phil was surprised to find a source for his caps through one of our favourite watch sellers, Tony Marrone on the Holiday Inn street, Jl Wana Segara. Bali is a strange place in many regards but buying embroidered caps from a watch shop is a bit far out. Chris and I got ours, and one each for Sammi and Sussi, from Matahari. Cap and six letters for Rp30,000, extra letters = extra rupiah of course. For Rp7,500 I am able to get a six-litre bottle of clean water for our bathroom from the little shop near the Inn where we replenish our stocks of beers and mixers. I have to confess that its one of my great pleasures when we have returned home from Bali to have a shower and clean my teeth without being concerned about swallowing buggy water. Buggy water and crappy toilets! If only they were not. This year the number of Balinese who are drinking bottled water, rather than the reticulated stuff, has surprised me. I have not noticed this in past visits. The girls are off to see Yoyan the Tailor at ENI�s, his little shop at the Kartika end of Jl Wana Segara. Yoyan underwent his baptism by fire last year, or was it only protracted torture? This year he seems pleased to see them anyway and they place their orders with gay abandon. Four pairs of pants, one three-quarter-length skirt, and one long jacket in selected micro-fibre cloth for either summer or winter wear results in a bill for A$200. Nell�s order is somewhat similar but larger and, with the orders from other guests met and given the good word at Happy Hour, Yoyan has to put on extra tailors for a night or two. This move brings its own problems, however, as the power and lights drain more than the fuses will stand and we find them all sitting in the gutter one night with the open shop in darkness, waiting for an electrician to come and get them sparking again. I am told that Yoyan carries a good range of cloth, and will get in more for inspection if colours are not quite right. All of his stock is in light and medium weights, and this is where his experience resides. Although he would get heavy winter weight materials for anyone his work may not be up to the standard expected, as he may not be skilled in handling it. The girls decide they don�t have the time to check him out or tutor him in this aspect of his work this year. Went to Dolphins in Melasti Street for leather clothing again. We had decided to look at other leather shops to compare quality of work that has been reported as cheaper, but we just didn�t get around to it. I was told that I could get cheaper work if it was done in goatskin but it wouldn�t last as long. I don�t really know who uses what but I do know that over the years we�ve never had any reason to complain about gear bought here, and others whom we buy for (from measurements) keep asking if it�s their turn to get something again. I also know that I have never seen the shop, or Melasti Street itself, as empty as it was this year. �Things might be crook in Telarook�, as the old saying has it, but I�ll bet they�re worse in Bali at the moment. Bike jacket and pants for #1 daughter $135 and $100, LARGE mans very fancy suede jacket $155, ladies long jacket of alternate suede and leather panels also $155, ladies leather back bags with shoulder straps (fashion item) $50. Somewhere along the way, I think in the Ubud markets, I bought a pair of Nike sandals. The rubber soles felt solid and the leather straps seemed to be good quality. The adjustments around the heel were by made doubling the straps through plastic buckle-type rectangles and back upon themselves, then being fixed with a piece of Velcro at the right size. I should have known that there would be a weakness and it was in the plastic buckles that began to break at the second wearing. Equally, I should have known that there would be an after-market remedy � for a price. I continued to wear the sandals which only had one broken buckle each, enough to ensure that they could not be done up and thereby put strain on the other buckle to cause it too to break. Walking into Matahari's this afternoon young sellers on the steps offered me another pair. I grimaced theatrically and shook my head. �No bloody good� I said, pointing to the broken buckle. The immediate reply, guessed by now by anyone who has been to Bali was, �We fix!� And they could. They had obtained from somewhere, a rectangular shaped piece, or pieces, of chromed wire which they could twist open, insert into the strap loops and then bend closed, replacing the brittle plastic originals with superior steel. Ingenious! There is always a way to fix things in Bali, probably because so many things are cheaply made with weak points in them that break. Do they do this deliberately to create a self-sustaining market I wonder? All that remained was to arrive at a price. I think the opening price was Rp 20,000 per buckle or Rp80,000 to fix the pair. As tradition requires I protested that this was too much, in fact more than I had originally paid for the sandals. �Good price for you Papa�, came the response, �We do all for 50,000.� �No, no, no.� I replied �You do for 1,000 each.� Much alarm from the lads and laughter from the bystanders. I had started too low for this to be going in the right direction as far as they were concerned. All Bali travellers would know the next half page if I was to write it so suffice to say the agreed price, eventually, was four for Rp7,000 and I sat on their stool while one took the sandals off and another disappeared with them round the back of the little stall. I was then engaged in the usual conversation of where and when, so the standard geography lesson followed with Chris� little map. I really do think that they were interested and we were right into it when the sandals came back, of course with only the two broken pieces replaced not all four. The expected circus began again until, eventually, the lad agreed to do the others as per the deal. His friends cheer, no doubt enjoying the game no matter who wins. The sandals were returned again and passed inspection, accompanied by my flattering comments about the speed with which he worked and the obvious top quality of the results. I dug a Rp10,000 note out and gave it to him, whereupon he had no change of course. Laughter all round again and I remained firmly seated on the stool with outstretched hand. Eventually his friend offered two rotten, red Rp100 notes that I decline to accept. By convention it was now my move, so I offered to take my note and to change it at the desk just inside the door. I think that this was perhaps seen as an affront to his monetary manipulative skills so, miraculously, he managed to find some bucolic, blue Rp1,000 notes which he offered as change. I accepted but remained firmly seated and offered to tell them a story. A story always seems appealing to Balinese, I think it is part of their culture, but I was a bit surprised when they all sat down or squatted or the steps. This had better be good I thought to myself. �Well�, I began, �If a man tries to rob you what do you say to your friends?� Well they all have tales to tell about this. It seems that Balinese try to cheat other Balinese as often as they try to cheat anyone else! Of course they will all tell their friends that this is a bad man � and their friends will not trust him any more and would not do business with him. And it is the same for tourists like me, I say, and with a flourish pull out my Electronic Organiser into which I have entered all my Bali notes. Now this it seems is a powerful teaching tool and when I say that I have got all this information from the World Wide Web they understand what I am talking about. When I scrolled down to a �Don�t eat here� note a few look at me and nod. Then I scrolled back to the note that said, �The Pantai is the Number 1 restaurant in Bali�. This caused those in front to move around behind me to see more clearly. 'So� I said, �what shall I write about you?� Ah! Much discussion occurred between them and I thought I�d made a point, but I hadn�t finished yet. �If you give a customer good service and they come to the shop too, and if he gets the right change without needing to ask and he is very happy what does he do for you?� Well, they know all about tips, and when I gave the change back to the boy as a tip, all 65 cents of it, they laughed louder than ever. They slapped me on the back. As I left to go up the steps I had an escort to clear the way for me. Every single time I went back to the Matahari after this one of them saw and recognised me. I never bought anything else from them but I was treated like one of their group. They made me feel so good that later, when I passed a sort of hardware store in Denpasar I bought a pair of very poor quality pliers for $2 and later gave them to the boy. I have wondered since what happened to the pliers. Did he use them with the other pair to save his fingers and thumb when bending and straightening the wire buckles, or did he sell them to a friend who started a business of his own? Even now I�m not sure how I feel about this interaction. Did I have any right to do this, to try to show them what I had been told was �good business� and �fair trading�? Are these universal rules or only the rules of western culture? Did any of them understand what I was trying to show them? If they did will it change anything? Where are �my� pliers today? (I refer to the �boy�. I�d guess he was in his early teens which probably means he was 20+. What is a boy in Bali? At Git Git waterfalls children who could have been no more than 4 or 5 years are skilfully selling necklaces and bracelets to passers by, bargaining and manipulating money. Have they had time to be children, boys and girls? Will they ever?) I have begun to find that taking notes on a pad kept in a shirt pocket is very difficult in this humidity. Biro�s may have originally been advertised with the useless but catchy claim that they wrote under water, but I now think that they must have changed the ink formula or used waterproof paper. My note pad is decidedly soggy after a day of shopping and waking and writing is impossible. I had another massage from Wayan this afternoon, just north of the Pantai. Again we were under the shade of the trees which form a sort of tall hedge between the Bintang and the Sunset Caf� next door. Above me the branches of two different trees interlocked. One had large leaves and the others were almost fern-like by comparison. The breeze moved these leaves in different directions and at different speeds, creating a confused, moving pattern of green against the darkening but still light blue-grey sky. Little pieces of one or the other fell down intermittently and Wayan paused often to gently pick them off my skin. Without my glasses I could not focus clearly on anything and the whole soft scene was almost hypnotic with the sensual rhythm of the massage. Tonight is the Mongolian theme night at the Holiday Inn. We know from past experience that despite the Rp70,000 cost it will still be good value. I venture the opinion that it is more of a stir-fry than a Mongolian, but I am soon made to understand that I am quite wrong. Is it good to know that you�re quite wrong early in life, or is it true that ignorance is bliss? A friend of mine has a good outlook about this. �You have two choices in life.� she says, �You can be wrong or you can be wrong to blazes. Please yourself, but remember it�s your choice so don�t complain if you make the wrong choice.� Our friend Margaret is staying at the Barong in Poppies Lane and has contacted us this afternoon. She is on her way home from a 12-week round-Europe-and-Britain-on-a-shoestring tour and joined us for the meal. It turned out to be a big feast and a long night. I don�t remember too much about it. 11.10.00 There are some handy links below. |
| Links - Back to the index on our Home Page. again? Back to Day 5? On to Day 7? The trip north. The Floating Palace, Bedugul and Lake Bratan, Git Git Falls, Singaraja, Lovina and the hot springs. Check the large photos again? |
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