Some books, some movies

The Sicilian. Orchards of lemon and olive trees, jugs of wine, bowls of spaghetti. Good looking bandits, treacherous dons. No tale more intriguing.

Turi Guiliano. I just checked. He is a real person! Not a figment of Puzo's imagination. Dashing, 20th century Robin Hood. Stuff legends are made of. And, did I mention good looking?

Sicilians. How Mario Puzo brings the whole countryside alive. A treacherous lot, but you can’t help but feel some tenderness for them. Note this.

‘The Sicilians had voted to be given a piece of land for themselves and their families, not for a political party. They could not conceive of any greater joy in life; to work their own land, to keep what they produced by the sweat of their brow, for themselves and their children. Their dream of heaven was a few acres of grain, a vegetable garden terraced on a mountainside, a tiny vineyard of grapes, a lemon tree and an olive tree.’

Was it a sweet coincidence then that I re watched Godfather 2 and 3 this week? I’d fallen in love with Michael Corleone the last time I watched the trilogy, but this time it was Vincent Mancini. Andy Garcia’s lethal charm. Who can resist this pretty face?

Dhobi Ghat. A tale of circular obsession. Aamir with Yasmeen, Shaina with Aamir, Munna with Shaina. Tightly edited and music so haunting. Treat for lovers of Mumbai. Then, what was not to like?

127 Hours. I admit, I was analyzing the ceiling when he was severing his arm, but the desperation was palpable. Another hour and half well spent. Destiny, you gotta believe it.

But seriously, what will it take for teenage girls to shut up in a movie hall and not ask after every dramatic scene, "What is he doing?" Aarrghh.

Bali: What remains

Legs ready to dance at the slightest hint of music. My dance string has been yanked after a decade of hibernation. Thanks Kuta!

Lamentations, oh how good were those days, while the boss gives me that glare and more work.

Some gradually depleting odds and ends.

First, Arak. Bitter, strong and queasy morning after.

Second, hand made delicious smelling soaps. Sweet odour on my clothes where they lie till used.

Third, grand masks that stare.

Fourth, Asian horror that scares. The ones I really liked till now – Alone, Memory and Death Bell. Much better than the horror Hollywood makes. Some of the movies though have subtitles which get cut off by the side. I struggled for hours to get it right, but then how much did I need to comprehend in horror flicks anyway? School girl ghouls, murderous enchantress, gleaming knives, spouting blood – it’s all there. Right up my alley.

And of course, some lovely art work.

Mostly, fond memories.

Kuala Lumpur: Twelve hours in a city

If you are a woman, it’s a no brainer. You shop. Considering the shopaholics I was traveling with, that’s what we did mostly.

But admittedly, the place rocks for thrifty high quality shopping. I splurged in Sungei Wang Plaza for clothes, bags including a gorgeous Miu Miu fake for 70 RM and a brand new Blackberry Bold 9700 for 1200 RM. All in under 2 hours.

Berjaya square was another revelation – the mere scale and number of obscure brands overwhelming. We spent another few hours here.

And we had some really funny moments with cab drivers in the city. One was from the airport to a friend’s place we were staying for the night.

We got in. It was freezing cold inside. Rick says,

“Could you lower the AC a bit? It’s freezing”

Cabbie, “Do you want to kill me? I am wearing a suit”

Alright, it was midnight and I was irritated. And that was rude.

“Do YOU want to kill us?”

No response. AC remained at freezing levels.

After fifteen minutes of cruising through dark winding roads, suddenly cops wave him down. He pleads with them for ten minutes and then gets out. We discreetly turn down the AC and the horrible music he was playing.

Fifteen minutes pass, then half an hour.

The group of cops and cabbie argue. Sometimes the cops look at us suspiciously, then back at him. After about 40 minutes of being stranded on an empty highway dead of night, the driver pays them some money, gives them some papers and saunters back in.

Before he opens the door, Rick hurriedly turns the AC back up and the music.

“What was all that about?” I ask.

“Speeding” He says nonchalantly.

“But you were within limits”, Rick says.

“Over 90 is speeding” He says. And soon after he starts the cab, zooms to 120 and speeds off. I roll my eyes at Rich. We couldn’t wait to get off.

Another bad incident was landing up at Hotel Sabrina. For 100 RM a night, the place was a seedy and what looked like a pick up joint. Although, it was right in middle of Bukit Bintang, we gagged when we saw the rooms. Reminds me to never agree to a hotel without reading atleast one review.

What I remember most fondly was Petronas Towers. Every bit regal as in the pictures. Dazzling.

Well, this is now the end. One of my longest, and also most memorable trips with friends.

And again, Happy new year!

In the end, Bali

We liked almost every place we stayed.

Balam Bali Villa. A cliché, but it turned out to be home away from home. We got away with a lot of latitude and freebies. Banana vodka cocktails at night with fancy wooden straws, endless round of ginger & sariwangi tea, Bali coffee. Adi, the manager also changed the dressing for Roe’s bleeding knees. Finally, for four days we ran up a bill of only around $200/head. If serenity amidst lush paddy fields is your thing, stay here.

I had to shut the girls later who kept moaning, "I miss Balam, miss Balam"

Villa Sayang. Cute little boutique hotel. Chatty and helpful Rosa. She was kind enough to give away some of the stacked Indonesian horror CDs I fancied. Lombok though is sleepy.

The open shower which we loved.

Dream Drivers. Basic. Disliked the open loo. Really, what does a door cost? Scallywags may have been a better choice

Niche Hotel. Right there. In the midst of the Kuta madness. Shops at one end. Bars and lounges at the other. Tanaya Bed and Breakfast also looked interesting. Some distance away from Bali memorial. Although, we never saw it.

 

Shops for crafts are aplenty. You will be spoilt for choice. Masks, dolls, artwork, sculptures, antiques, silver. For random clothes – there is Body and Soul which my friends devoured.

 

We had one of our most lavish meals at Nomad in Ubud. Scallywags and in Gilli. Kopi pot in Legian. I would have liked to eat in Ku De Ta. It looked interesting. Expensive though. Load in lots of fish.

 

Sky Garden. We loved most at Kuta. Just for its sheer space and pulsating music.

Bali mixes it up totally – art, culture, slutting, eating, shopping, and chilling.

You will be surprised.

Bali: Random notes….

Selamat Datang.

Every morning pancakes and coffee. Ever afternoon fish.

It’s interesting about the the night butterflies. You may write them off as ladies of the night, but some of them, I hear manage to make lucrative marriages. Enough to own some land and property, rear multi racial children and if lucky, your husband could settle down in Bali forever.

There are four names in Bali that are oft repeated. The firstborn is "Wokalayan" (or Yan), second is "Made," third is "Nyoman" or Komang (Man or Mang), and fourth is "Ketut" (Tut). Adi is another name we encountered. Apparently, many Indonesians have just one name.

Bali is big. If you are travelling alone and intend to explore, you may need a bike/car. Most locals travel in bikes, and petrol is sold in bottles along the street. Funny. The same bottles will pass for olive oil in Turkey. (Too random a thought)

Indonesian horror is seemingly popular world over; I picked up a few CDs.

Good places to shop in Bali. Monkey Forest Road, Ubud. Celuk for silver, Kerobokan for sculpture, Seminyak for High Street, Poppies Lane in Kuta for anything. Avoid Sukawati, Sanur. Bargain till you are ready to faint.

Chill Gilli

The first real beach I saw in Indonesia. That 3 km street has so much packed in; libraries, boutiques, lounges, cute surfers. You can just sit in one of the beach shacks, beer in one hand and watch the world cycle past.

Time just stops. One of my favourite places in Indonesia (minus the cat calls)

Wanted to try the magic mushrooms. If only I wasn’t already nursing a hangover.

Bali: A near miss

Our most gripping moment was the almost missed Merpati Flight. From Lombok to Bali. Mataram to Denpasar.

Here is what happened.

You know how our whole schedule got messed up because of the visa issue. Well, our earlier booked Lion Air flights went null and void. We decided to try our luck directly at the airport instead. And, being the busy season it was, all flights were booked. BOOKED!

So, we stand there with puppy faces, staring with pleading eyes at counter window, after counter window. Should we instead go to the port and get on a fast ferry to Padang Bai? More time and money spent. Then suddenly, our angel of the day beckons to me.

“I will give you tickets”

Silent Yippee

“This paper not ticket. On standby. You pay if you get ticket”

Scratching heads. What was that?

“You wait. See if ticket free. Then on flight”

So, we just enter with bag and baggage and no ticket? With our ‘Stand by’ print out, quaking in our shoes, we approached the ticket counter.

The ticket lady looks at us first, the print out next and us again.

“This is not a ticket”

“But that man outside gave it to us”

Our angel for the day comes running towards us

‘Our agreement. You wait, Ticket if free. You come and pay me’

Ten minutes for the flight to take off. The ticket lady comes running. Our second angel of the day.

“Pay 417,000 IDR. Check in your luggage. You got in”

After that, with our second angel’s help, we rushed through baggage check, airport tax, security check. The works. All under five minutes.

And guess what? We got Padang ermm.. food we totally devoured. Before the flight had even taken off.

Bali Boys

These are not the local gigolos or ladyboys. Yes, there are plenty of those.

But I refer to the scores of Australian kids – on vacation, in Bali to surf, dive and try their bright luck with women. They are the Kuta nightlife. Boy, did we feel flattered with their attention!

Oi mate!

Bits of Bali

Canang Sari: Ceremonial early morning offerings.

Terraced Paddy fields.

Penjor Poles: Bamboo poles, tips hung with floral decorations erected a day before Galungan Festival.

Fresh pineapple and banana pancakes

The good life

Bali, Lombok: Little treats

If you are not trekking the Rinjani in Lombok, there is precious little else to do. And the Rinjani trek is closed during monsoon months. Jan – March.

We soft trekked to the Senaru Waterfalls instead. Which was an acceptable alternative given the benefits. The waterfall of Tiu Kelep makes you one year younger.

K-Dot (fancy!) was our local guide. 100,000 IDR for the trek. He was a local Sasak, 26 years old, guide for ten years, never been out of Lombok. Also, my quick guide to native life.

Another day. Another treat.

Two hours at Spa Bali, Kuta, made us purrrr... with pleasure. Massage, body scrub and flower bath.

“Do you like it miss?”

“Very much, very much. Mmmmm”

I am many years younger.

Bali: Art Attack

Monkey Forest Road – you gotta love the crafts, cute cafés and little houses.

Temples. Taman Ayun at Mengwi. Beautiful garden of love.

Pura Meru, the largest temple in Lombok. Three mounts which represent the three great mountains, Rinjani, Agung and Bromo. Where the old attendant insisted on putting a frangipani in my hair.

Shopping for crafts is fun, the haggling tiring. There is a “Sunset price”, a “rainfall price”, a “first sale price”. Aggressive nodding, pretense to walk out, arms outstretched - Alright, just give it to me now. I like it that much. But with a nagging doubt – would he have lowered it some more?

At the Banyumulek pottery village, we had a kid attack. All muttering with outstretched hands -

“One thousand please?”

Mimicking what we did, giggling and pointing.

Bali: Let me tell you a story

The ballet of Bimaniu.

An attendant recounts the story of Bimaniu (Abhimanyu), son of Arjuna. He is searching for a princess name Siti Sunari. He meets her and falls in love with her. She resists him for a while. Eventually, she falls in love with him.

Suddenly, the romance is shattered by prince Sateaki, an officer of the palace guard. He blazes in anger and attacks Bimaniu. But he realizes that Bimaniu is related to him. He advises Bimaniu to flee along with Siti Sunari.

Kalika, chief of witches finds the couples sleeping on a graveyard hut. She tries to devour Bimaniu, failing which she asks helps from Durga, Goddess of death. Due to Bimaniu’s magical powers, even Durga’s attack is in vain. Finally, Goddess Durga listens as Bimaniu reveals himself as from the Pandawa lineage.

Goddess Durga wants proof and asks Bimaniu to dance. After the dance, Durga acknowledges his great lineage and shows him the way out to Suralaya.

Breathtakingly beautiful was the Legong dance at Ubud. Enthralling, with those fluttering eyes, hip sway, finger twirls.

Bali, Lombok: Slobbering all over

Bollywood. Our single most potent export. Only second comes the techie.

That morning in Gili, I was afraid to move out. Along that one road, all you could hear was

“Kuchi Kuchi hotha hai”

“Kareena, Kajol, Rani”

“Anjali, Anjali”

“I am Shah Rukh Khan, You are my Kajol”

It was fun in the start. After a while, irritating. And this was happening all over Bali. One more time you say, Kuchi Kuchi hotha hai, I swear I shall clobber you to death.

Although, Papaya Cafe was fun. We were sitting in a corner, chattering away excitedly, warding off unwanted local attention, when the band set off

“Humko hamein se churalo” (Mohabbatein). Just for us.

Karaoke through the night.

Kuta, Bali: Throbs all night

What a place was Kuta!

Despite staying in Mengwi, two hours away from mainstream Kuta, nothing could dissuade us from partying there. 31st and 1st.

New Year’s Eve. It started badly.

First, Roe got this bad sea food allergy. Her eyes popped out, face puffed up. We stuffed her with medicines and let her sleep. When we were dressed up and ready to leave, we pulled her along, but she was never really totally OK.

That was not all. It started to rain and since Kuta roads get really cramped around New Years Eve, we had to walk. Walk, walk, walk, asking the way all along. We walked for atleast an hour, through rain, slush and bikers soliciting rides.

Club Double 6. We arrived fifteen minutes to twelve. Grabbed our beer and hugged each other when they screamed.

“It’s 2011!”

It wasn’t so bad after that. We danced and danced. Till it was five. Too tired then to move any more.

“Mengwi!!?? Very far, very far!” Nabbed a cab after negotiating a $20 fare.

Then we saw the dawn break through the paddy fields. Nodding our drunk heads, opening eyes a crack.

The ache was probably worth it.

Bali: We were there

So we did make it to Bali finally.

We left on 29th Dec instead of the 24th. I braved all the giggly newly weds around me in the flight to KL. Several in-flight Nasi Lemaks, Nasi Gorengs later, we were there!

To begin with, we were staying at Mengwi, which was close to atleast 2 hours away from where we wanted to do really – party (Kuta/Legian) and shopping (Seminyak). Slight misjudgment there, since serenity among paddy fields was not what we had gone there for.

But mostly we made it work. Tales follow.