Sunday, January 9, 2011

bittersweet bali; of babi, bebek and beautiful beaches


now that i’m done with this,


i can go watch the musical and spurn spoilers! get on with this blog thing i seem to have forgotten about.

“Hey, how was Bali? fun??”

then there’s that momentary pause as i decide whether i should be frank, dismissively vague or amp up the cheer.

bali was… i don’t know. i expected too much?

there’s a couple of versions to my replies, depending on whether you’re making small talk or actually keen and my current disposition. it ranges from a monosyllabic “meh” to a lengthy rant wrought with disappointment to a cheery account of all that is fawesome.

so, which would you like to hear?




and so i shall begin my messy account of bali =D

landing in bali gives you a kick. the runway runs along the shoreline and as the plane slows to a halt, you get your first non-aerial glimpse of the sea, complete with some dude casually kayaking in the blistering sun (sorry no pictures of that pretty sight because electronic devices have to be switched off during landing lest we should all die a tragic death.)



travelling from the airport in denpasar to our hotel in legian, you kinda get the gist of things. it’s heavy traffic all day long, the town is a mishmash of intricate carvings set in darkened stone juxtaposed with the clean lines of modern buildings; malls and the like. there really isn’t much planning, one can tell.


temple-like growths are abundant and scattered everywhere.


as is graffiti,


and grand statues of immense volume of gods you will not recognise… all modestly draped in chequered loincloths.


then we come to our hotel… and my love-hate relationship with it.


while i may love the rustic charm…



the mossy stones and resort chalet-like setting…


and the abundance of bikini babes and hot men around the pool…
(seriously, this picture does no justice. when the sun is high, the angmos come out to play. HELLO CALVIN KLEIN MODEL IN RED SPEEDO! *hamsapface* an hour in bali and we start wondering if ugly angmos are allowed in bali at all. the group of hunks that came traipsing in as we left the hotel didn’t help in revoking this assumption.)


i absolutely hated our room.
crack the doors open (rustic wooden double doors with exterior padlock and inner wooden bolt) and you shall be greeted by a most pleasant aroma; that of a cupboard of wet towels that hasn’t been opened in years. MUSTY. peek into the bathroom and you will find your bathtub collecting a mysterious black liquid… later found to be water dripping from the leaking woven ceiling by detective am. fall back on the fluffy pillows and let the familiar scent of indonesian immigrants you find sardined in the ktm waft through your nostrils.


171, truly an olfactory delight.

(to be fair, the other two rooms weren’t half bad. i guess it’s just my luck.)



our first picture as a group in the hotel lobby =)


our first indonesian meal. bland and unimpressive.


our first taste of Bintang. purportedly epic.
(how i let myself get so emaciated, i’ll never know)


our first trip to Legian beach




are you serious?? is the water even real? am i really here??


as you can see, we were fresh off the plane and not dressed for the beach so our trip lasted something like 15 minutes. we gawked some and i ran impulsively into the ocean where the waves are unpredictable and left with wet shorts soaked through to my undies. we scampered off for a massage and made plans to come back on the third day.

but alas, on that fateful day, clad in our swimwear and slathered with sunscreen as we stood outside the hotel waiting for the drizzle to let up, the raindrops only grew larger and fell closer  T.T
my heart just about sunk so low it might as well have rolled right out the bottom and onto the curb only to be caught between the steps of a passing angmo (ripped and clad in a Bintang tank most likely),  kicked across the street and should it survive the onslaught of motorcycles zooming pass, a local Balinese man might pick it up and attempt to sell it back to me for an exorbitant amount, failing which, would mince it up and call it pork for bakso.

because that is how it is in bali. for that, i am deeply sorry.



amusing ourselves with the stone totems along the walk back.


note chequered loincloths. do you suppose that in the olden days, perhaps they didn’t care much for nudity and all the statues stood forth in their true glory but now they decided it was too crude? the assortment of phallic keychains and paperweights sold everywhere would argue but who am i to judge? =D


at a dodgy massage parlour where we had an amusing first balinese massage.
couldn’t really relax into it for fear of indecent exposure. flitty curtains and all that.


sitting down for our second indonesian meal at warung yogya. haven’t given up on them yet!


still bland and uncovered more horrors, but apparently my beloved is a norm over here.


glad to have tried and find themselves to hate tempe.
how on earth did you guys manage to live for 22 years in malaysia without having tasted tempe??


back in the hotel with nothing to do… (zin, moob alert)
at the pool where we discovered the water was salty. we first wrote it off to sweat (ech) on account of at least 20 smokin’ angmos dipping in there all afternoon but wouldn’t you know, the tap water is just as salty =S

okay now i feel like a bitch for getting to go on a fantastic holiday and still having the audacity to whine about it.

listen to me whine more later?


- “not yet” -

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