Just back from the third Bali trip this year. This time, 11 year-old Princess and I went on our own. We spent a week and a half in Bali, and then three nights in Jakarta on business. We didn't have any particular plans for Bali, just to do whatever took our fancy at the time. This will therefore be a ‘bits and bobs' JBR: events that stood out... and maybe a bit of useful information.
As I'd redeemed my FF points to go, our itinerary was a little complicated: Melbourne/Sydney/Jakarta with Qantas, and then a late domestic Garuda flight to Denpasar that evening. I joined the Qantas Club a few weeks before leaving, in anticipation of many hours sitting about at various airports, loaded down by too much hand luggage, and bored to snores. The Qantas Club membership was worth its weight in gold for us. Benefits include an extra 10kgs of luggage, priority check-in, lounge use, and extra-polite service.
On Hillary's recommendation, we booked the Secret Garden Inn for our Bali stay. Thanks, Hillary. I agree with everything you said, apart from the beds being comfortable. Maybe your bed was great, but our mattress was woefully thin! I'd sleep for two hours, wake up, sleep again, wake up again, read for a few hours, and doze off for a few hours. It drove me nuts. Even the diazepam supplied by a pharmacy down the lane didn't keep me asleep. But no doubt about it, the SGI is great value for money. (NB, they've put their room rates up from 200 to 250K.) I love the central landscaped pool area, and the environment feels safe and friendly. There's Wi-fi internet in the restaurant next door, plenty of eateries and shops, and lots of colour and movement. Staying in Poppies Lane has both advantages and disadvantages: you're a stone's throw away from everything you could possibly need, but having to jump clear of passing bikes and cars whenever you go down the lane makes walking a little hazardous. I was forever grabbing Princess, who tends to meander distractedly, and pulling her to safety.
Made from the tailor's shop opposite SGI charmed me into having two dresses made. I got her to copy a too-tatty-to-wear favourite dress, and then asked her to use my new halterneck swimmers as a model for a little black number, which I will possibly wear to the Bali Street Dog fundraiser next Friday evening (depends on the weather). The bill came to 450,000 rp, with Made supplying the fabric for one outfit. I kinda wish I'd gone to my regular tailor, as the green dress is a little on the rustic side, and Made's husband cut the halterneck's skirt too short and didn't hem it at all. But still, we're talking around $60 here for both, so I'm not that bothered!
Days and evenings melted away pleasantly. Our first evening saw us at a BTF get-together at Café Legend in Garlic Lane for dinner and drinks - and a trip to Ketut's fixed-price shop. I can't remember half the names of Forumites we met, apart from Sharon, Kazza and Smudge. Princess and I were both knackered after the previous day's travel, and didn't stay late. I spoke to Smudge and arranged for him to collect the case full of things I'd brought over - a big bag of Princess's outgrown toys, a kids sheet set, childrens books, and quite a stack of towels. When he arrived to collect the goodies, I handed over some unwanted bras, feeling awkward. Smudge assured me bras were very much in demand. He told me a funny story about an old woman on his mountain who needed a bra (I do hope she has one now).
This trip I actually summoned up my courage and visited the ARC Clinic. Sitting in the waiting room was a bit like waiting at a clinic for Unmentionable Diseases: although everyone is there for the same reason, we're all a bit embarrassed and studiously avoid eye contact with each other. When my turn came, I was ushered into a clean, modern room. I pointed out two trouble spots I wanted seen to. The doctor studied me closely and fiddled with my hair. He declared that I shouldn't worry about the brow area. He then said that what he noticed were the lines on either side of my mouth, deepish grooves that ran down to the chin. ‘They make you look sad,' he stated. He suggested a filler, and named a price. The last thing I wanted was to look permanently sad, so I gave him the go-ahead. He led me to a chair similar to a dentist's chair, and treatment began. Sitting still while somebody sticks needles in your face is not particularly pleasant, even with a local anaesthetic... but it's not that bad either. I liken it to being at the dentist: you put up with the discomfort, knowing the treatment will soon be over, and you'll walk away with a lovely smile. Twenty minutes later, I was handed a mirror to inspect the results. Okay, I was a bit spotty, and a bruise was coming up near my chin, but I definitely looked much, MUCH happier. Grinning cheerfully, I coughed up the money, and tootled off to Bali Galleria around the corner, trying to avoid sweating for 24 hours. My mouth was doing strange things after the local anaesthetic, so I tried to avoid talking, too, until the numbness wore off (I was getting some mighty strange looks every time I spoke).
Breakfasts at the Secret Garden Inn consisted of fruit, coffee, plus eggs, eggs and more eggs - oh, and toast made from that horrid bread that tastes like sweetened cotton wool. The smiley face they stamp on the front didn't improve the taste at all, and I've never cared much for eggs. Princess and I skipped our free breakfasts after a few days, and embarked on a quest to find the best breakfast in town. One Saturday we went to La Lucciola for their sweet tooth's breakfast. I think it cost about 60,000 ++, and every mouthful was superb. Everything is spot-on at La Lucciola. The food is divine - as is the location - and the service is great. Much to our waiter's amusement, I returned the batik napkin I'd inadvertently nicked last January.
The breakfast we ate at Ma Joly really wasn't worth the money; and for a top-class restaurant, their menu shows a surprising lack of imagination. Breakfast at Poppies was expensive and meagre; both Princess and I were hungry afterwards. TJ's continental breakfast was good, but it's not that easy to ruin a croissant. Other than La L, the only standout brekky we ate was at Tekor Bali, which is just near the corner of Jl 66 and the beach road where Zanzibar and Seaside are. 23,500 bought the Slim Jim: fruit juice; an enormous plate of papaya, banana, watermelon, pineapple and tamarillo, generous dollops of yoghurt and lashings of home-made toasted muesli, plus a little dish of freshly grated coconut to sprinkle over the top; then came the mixed bread platter: a warm white roll, toasted ‘white' bread (which is really a multigrain, complete with sunflower seeds), dark and substantial brown bread, served with butter and home-made jam; then iced lemon tea to wash it all down.
We tried to make evening meals a bit of an occasion, with food we don't often see in Australia - or else can't afford to order. In April, I'd dragged my poor old dad up and down Poppies II, trying to find Un's. No wonder we never made it there that evening; Un's is in Poppies I! This time we found the restaurant without any trouble. A big thumbs-up for Un's, though, for their food, ambience, service - and their frozen margaritas. TJ's was excellent, even for anyone who's not that keen on Mexican food. Kori, which was wonderful in January, was disappointing this time; the food was over-priced, over-cooked and under-spiced. One of the yummiest dishes I ate was the chicken and galangal soup (with a side order of rice) at Discovery's Black Canyon coffee shop. My taste buds did a happy dance and thanked me for the treat.
The hawkers were every bit as annoying as they always are. Most times a smile and a ‘no thanks' sufficed, and Princess and I would keep on walking. But that approach didn't always work. One timeshare chap was very insistent: he wasn't selling anything; he just wanted to give me a present. He only let me go after I'd told him my mother said I should never accept gifts from strangers. A lawar oil salesman appeared at our table in a café near Bemo Corner. I said I already had some (which I do, as it happens. And as a liniment I find the Salonpas patches cheap and incredibly effective. NB, for all Salonpas converts, expect to pay around 50 cents for a pack of ten in Bali, and over $2.50 in Australia. Stock up big in Bali; I do!). Anyway, before you could say ‘lawar oil', the vendor had unscrewed the cap, tipped oil on my shoulder, and begun to rub me. I don't take kindly to the hands-on (literally) sales approach. Irritated, I told him firmly that in my culture, it was considered very bad manners to rub strangers. He looked a little surprised, but he disappeared quickly, much to the amusement of nearby Aussie diners who'd witnessed the whole exchange. Then there was the chap who wanted to entice us into his store with the offer of knock-off brands. After me saying a polite ‘no thanks' several times, he asked me what I was looking for. ‘True love,' I sighed wistfully. He thought a moment, then replied ‘No, I only have Billabong and Roxy.'
After Sharon had introduced us to Ketut's fixed-price shop in Garlic Lane, Princess and I paid Ketut a visit one afternoon. A couple of hours later, I left with two bags of loot, and only enough cash for the cab ride back to Secret Garden. Sitting in the taxi, I inspected my purchases. My, what a lot of things I've bought for 500,000 rp, I thought. A bright sarong on the top of the heaviest bag caught my eye. ‘What's this?' I said to Princess. ‘I didn't buy this!' When I inspected the stuff underneath, I realised that I hadn't bought anything in that bag. And the contents were probably worth three times what I'd actually spent. Oh dear! I had visions of the tourist police raiding our room, accompanied by an irate Ketut, and dragging us off to join Schapelle. We made a mad dash to change more money, and then jumped in a cab to return the stolen goods. Red-faced, I hurried into Ketut's shop to give her back her things, apologising frantically. She shrieked with laughter, gave me a big hug and thanked me for being so honest.
In the last few days, I took Princess to Waterbom. We rented a cabana for the day; there I stretched out on the pillows and buried my nose in a novel, ordering snacks from time to time, while Princess did all the rides and spent a fortune. She had a ball, until she came a cropper on a wet path. Off to first aid for her, while staff came to fetch me. Nothing broken, just a whopping bruise. She wore her arm in a sling until we left.
All too quickly our time in Bali passed, and we were due to fly to Jakarta with Air Asia. A note to anyone planning on flying Air Asia - they only allow you 15 kgs (and 7 kgs of cabin luggage, which is in line with other carriers). No matter how creatively I packed, I still couldn't get the weight down to the required limit. For the first time ever, I was slugged for excess baggage. However, the 5 kgs cost 100,000 rp, which didn't break the bank. Although Air Asia prints a seat number on their boarding passes, it's first come first served on board. And like Jetstar's Jetsaver class, you pay for food and drinks on the flight. Folks, a word of advice: eat and drink before you fly, because Air Asia's offerings aren't that flash. Princess had a cold chicken pie, and I had a pretty ordinary beef rendang and rice. I could have chosen one of those cups of instant noodles that you pour hot water on... Difficult choice. No complaints about the flight, though; it left early, and carried us safely to Jakarta, where our hosts were waiting.
Princess and I had been invited to stay in their family home in Green Garden, an affluent suburb not too far from the CBD. I have no idea how many bedrooms there are; however, eight family members live there, along with the old nanny, three young nannies and a general domestic. As I came out of the bathroom the first morning, Auntie Nanny grabbed my clothes and carted them off for laundering. She pointed out the washing basket beside the bathroom door. How very nice it was to drop dirty clothes in a basket, and find them waiting clean and pressed on the end of my bed at day's end. A person could get used to that sort of thing. Hospitality was such that every time I opened my mouth, somebody would stuff food into it. It was Moon Cake day when we were there. We sampled Moon Cake from Hong Kong, Makassar, Java and China. I liked the cake with the nuts best, but the spicy Javanese version came a very close second.
We dined with the family at their home, and we ate out as well. Jakarta features wall-to-wall malls, with some excellent eateries. One Chinese restaurant had tanks stacked high with fish, prawns, lobsters, and the most enormous crabs I ever did see - absolute monsters! I felt quite sorry for them sitting around all day, waiting for someone to grab and eat them (picture those human cages under the alien ships in War of the Worlds). One poor monster crab, knowing his days were numbered, almost managed to climb out of the tank and escape... imagine the panic in the restaurant, guests scattering in all directions as Crabby's giant pincers snapped at their toes.
If you're a donut fan, Jakarta is the place to be. I-Crave donuts have the most fascinating range, including pizza, cheese and bolognaise variants. Their Pinky Power, I think it's called, is a donut shaped like a little pink man with a long erection. Most intriguing! I tried I-Crave's strawberry popsicle, which was particularly tasty, but drew the line at the durian version. Their cheese-flavoured popsicle wasn't on my list of must-tries, either.
If you're going to live in Jakarta, it's best to be rich - the richer the better. I was gob-smacked at some of the homes I saw. Huge, palatial and overpoweringly flashy. I thought one particular home was a museum, but no, it was just a private residence, probably some tycoon's weekender. In Jakarta, luxury sits uncomfortably with the most incredible filth and squalor. Tumbledown huts; boxes tacked together to provide shelter; garbage; filth. The Black River, as it's fondly named by locals, is enough to turn the stomach. I expected to see a floating corpse or two (thankfully I didn't). The water is foul with garbage and pollution, and used by the poor to wash in.
I really wouldn't care to be a tourist in Jakarta. It's such a huge, sprawling city that I'd be lost from sunrise to sunset. But it's a great place to visit if you're lucky enough to have someone to look after you, and looked after we were. We shopped, we ate, and we finalised arrangements to launch the new business in Australia. Matahari at the Ciputra Mall was offering 20% off Martha Tilaar products, so I stocked up. I also bought a delightful party frock for Princess from the Donita shop (gorgeous fashions for the pre-teens. BTW, Matahari stocks a limited Donita range in Bali). Johnny Andreaan hairdressing salons are all over the place, so we had manicures, pedicures, cream baths - and a bruising neck and shoulder massage, from which I'm still recovering.
One last little thing I saw in Jakarta - and this is for you, Hillary, if you're reading this - was a local magazine that featured photos of ten prominent women on the cover. Along with Sukarno's daughter and a bunch of women I didn't recognise, was none other than Martha Tilaar herself!!!! Martha actually exists, and she's doing very well for herself, thank you very much...
Sadly, our fortnight was over all too soon, and Princess and I said farewell to our friends and made our way home via Sydney, with way too much luggage, and eyes pink from lack of sleep. I can't say it's good to be home, as Melbourne's weather is bleak and FREEZING. But there is a bright spot on the horizon. Our host's second son is getting married in December, and Dad and I are invited. It's not going to be a big function, I'm told ... only around 500 guests!
We've already bought Jetstar and Air Asia cheapies, and we're heading back to Indonesia at the end of November for five nights. Woo hoo, now there's an occasion to look forward to!
Cheers, everybody, and happy holidays. :-)))))