And then there was one

 A couple of years ago we found three orphaned dogs at the side of the road and decided to adopt them. One ran off not long after we had him neutered. I lost the second one today.He had been hit by a car and terribly injured. The vet said he was in a lot of pain and that he might never recover so I asked that he be put down. Its a sad thing. Bobi loved to chew on patio funiture, and sandals were never safe left outdoors in his company. A terror to cats and frogs he would try to catch the former and dig up half the garden pursuing the latter. He could always tell the sound of my bike and tended to race alongside whenever I approached the house. He would rarely bark and always let my tukangs daughter pull his ears with never a yelp nor growl. He liked to stay clean unlike my other dog who,in spite of our best efforts, remains something of a tick factory. He wasn't the smartest of dogs but he knew how to take a snack from my hand without snatching it.  I'm going to miss him. If there is such a thing as doggie afterlife I hope its filled with neckermans and sun beds - Bobi will appreciate it.

A brief update

Bali  has a new bus system. It appears to be working in spite of  its many problems. A  critique can be found here. Despite the pessimism a working bus system is inevitable if the Island is to avoid choking on its own success.

Property prices in Bali are going up up up. Its unbelievable what people are willing to pay for a chunk of swamp without sewage, electricity or water. 300 million rupiah /are now seems to be the going rate in some parts of semminyak. Some very average villas here are now going for 15 million rupiah/month. At these prices its tempting to move and rent out my house but the next question would be to move where?

The beachfront in Kuta is finally resembling something other than a collection of abandoned buildings. There are a lot of new shiny hotels all across the street from the beach. Access to Kuta is still hopelessly snarled amidst the narrow convoluted streets, the surfeit of taxis and the  interminable "proyek galian" (excavations) tearing up the roadways.

The massive developments in south Bali (and they are massive) are serviced by a tiny 2-lane road from Jimbaran to Bukit. Traffic along here can only get worse as these developments fill in. As it is now you are totally screwed going uphill at 4:30 pm and downhill at 7:00 PM (tour buses to Uluwatu).

I'm not sure of the reasoning but the developers in Pecatu placed a large water park in the middle of a luxury housing development and golf course. Perhaps they should have sold the houses first but I find it difficult to imagine some wealthy pensioner buying a house with 100 decibel bass pumping out some techno beat at 10:00  AM overdubbed with some idiot presenter screaming into a microphone. Just what I like with my morning coffee and porridge.

The little golf driving range in Tuban is gone - victim to the ever expanding Ngurah Rai Airport. I think that it has been gone for some time but I'm only now getting around to mentioning it. Pity. It was the cheapest and best kept secret in Bali.

Finally I have to say that I lost one dog while I was away and a new one seems to be hanging around in its place. The lost one was a bit touched from the day we found him so I'm not totally surprised. The new dog is a friendly type with an unfortunate habit of digging up the lawn. Not sure how to cure him of that.

Having a heck of a time organising my next work trip abroad. More on that later.

Connections

An open question.

Why is it so difficult to find F connector wall plates? You know, the kind you need for satellite TV. Is there some law about importing them or is the case (as it is often) that I just haven't found the one shop in all of Nusantara that sells this animal?

Allow me to explain. A while back I decided to renovate the house. Part of the renovation involved installing cable outlets in all of the rooms so I could enjoy TV in any room without  without having a bunch of unsightly cables lying about or having holes drilled in my window frame. A noble plan. I also have a mother-in-law suite on the property, that I may decide to rent out in some alternative future. Its nice to have the connections in place so that all the tenant needs to do is buy the decoder. I'm happy to say that the cables are now where they need to be. The issue is the connections. The only available wall sockets here are whats known as a Belling-Lee type. The satelite provider (Indovision) uses F connectors. The two don't mix. Moreover I've been unable to find an adaptor. Its been grimly amusing visiting upteen hardware stores, electrical suppliers, stereo and home entertainment shops and getting various versions of the blank stare. Reminds me of the great toilet adventure of a few years back.

The only workaround at the moment is to build my own "PJ" cables which have F connectors at one end and Belling-Lee connectors on the other. Tedious but I don't know what else to do.

The Pack

Its not the easiest life to be a dog in Bali. You start out as a cute little puppy. After a few weeks the cuteness wears off as the skin diseases cause you hair to fall out and your owners reject you. Eventually you find yourself homeless, starving, and pathetically trying to shelter under a shrub during the rainy season. And so it was for 3 little puppies that my gardener happened to notice on his way home the other day. These guys were terrified of people but too weak to run away. Being a kind sort Nengah(my gardener) brought them into our neighborhood and they have since taken up semi-permanent accomodation in my carport. The pups have been accepted by Mallie, the alpha male in the neighborhood as well as Badi, the other dog that hangs out next door.

So for the last week or two I've been learning about kampung dogs. These pups are doing much better after getting stuffed with food from all the generous folks nearby. These guys can eat. I've never seen a dog until now that's able to eat rice until he can't physically get any more down his throat. They are reasonably clever too. It didn't take long to teach them how to take food sitting down and not to try and snap it from my fingers. They are still very traumatized by whatever experience they had earlier and don't really like to be handled, at least not at first. Progress in socializing these guys has been slow. Unfortunately I don't see much future for them if they can't get used to being around people.

Hopefully someone will come around to take 1 or 2 of these little guys in. It would seem a shame to rescue these dogs only to put them down later for lack of an owner.

Addendum: How not to solve your dog problem

The Gala Dinner

note: The event occured in late september. I am only just getting round to putting it to paper now. Apologies


I'm really not a social critter. I don't get out much. But there I was slurping lycee daiquiris with  the hoi polloi of Bali the other night. You see I was at a dinner party. Not just any old dinner party but a Gala dinner, and here in Indonesia a gala dinner means pulling out all the stops.

New Kuta Golf was celebrating their third anniversary with a Tournament followed by a Gala dinner. I'm not sure exactly why  3 years is cause for a Gala dinner. Why not 5 years? Or 10 years? And I don't know why they were calling it a Halloween event when Halloween was still weeks away. I don't really care. Because any excuse for a Gala Dinner is a good excuse. Further, if you ever get the chance to go to attend an Indonesian Gala dinner you should, even if you have play in a golf tournament to do so.

To start with there is the greeting line. Most restaurants in the Bali tourist areas have a habit of  placing well groomed individuals at the entrance's to attract the customers. The club did the same thing although it was really unnecessary - the customers were all paying club members - Gala dinner remember? The greeting line consisted off all the PR and admin staff decked out in matching black cocktail dresses with lavender sashes. They looked fantastic. And how do they ever manage to remember each and every guest by name?

The dinner itself was tasty although unremarkable. It has to be said that the temporary insanity that prevails on the roads here also occurs in the buffet queue. I nearly lost a hand to some half starved woman armed with a fork who was trying (unsuccessfully) to do a reach around for chicken wing. Defending my spot in the queue took some doing - the secret (and this also could be applied to the roads here) is to exploit any opening and put aside foolish notions of personal space. Eventually appetites were sated and people settled down, drinks in hand, to await the evening's entertainment.

Given the current national paranoia over morality one might expect some sort of traditional music or dance group to occupy us between door prize giveaways. But this is a gala dinner.What we got was a group of "sensual" dancers (can't say sexy any more - pity) clad in supertight spandex who performed to wild applause from the mixed audience of men, women and children. Whoa! Besides the dance troupe there was a band, some fire baton-twirlers and and projector screen sized infomercial from one of the sponsors - a low point. Things took on a more surreal tone when the tournament winner performed, on request, a very credible version of Frank Sinatra's My Way. How? Why?

The dinner ended abruptly with the simultaneous announcement of the final door prize - some sort of people carrier - and the end of the free flow from the beer sponsor. As everyone bolted for the doors I hung back to avoid being trampled and reflectively nursed the last of my Heineken. To line up these events would take some doing. There are sponsors to find, menus to be organised, and a timetable flexible enough to accomodate the vagaries of the weather (rainy season now). The cost for a dinner and a round of golf was very reasonable if comparing other entertainment options around here. And where else on earth can you have a singing golf champ?

Only in Bali.

Only at a Gala Dinner.

Sinetron

Anyone who has ever watched Indonesian sinetron (soap opera) will appreciate the potential for an incredibly long drawn out story in the making. Goes something like this.

A friend of mine "A" has 2 kids, B and C. B is the child of her ex-husband D and C is the  adopted child of the ex-maid E. Problem now is to confirm the status of B and C (get identity cards). This is proving difficult  now as A also has identity status issues. Firstly although separated from D she has never received a divorce certificate. Additionally after separating from D she changed her name from F to A.
So what happens now? Simple really. A has to change name to F, divorce D, change name back to A. After that it should be a simple matter to clarify the status of B and C. The lawyers and judges are circling this case like piranhas. Could take years to sort out and that's only if nobody contests custody of B and C and the courts don't try to screw with A. There are indications that E may contest custody of C and the interests of D  towards B have been hitherto unknown. As to the courts... well there is an interesting post here on trying to resolve identity issues in Indonesia. Its hardly optimistic.

Just another day in paradise.

I wish I could make this stuff up. Could be a future in soap operas.

Renovations

I'm planning a general spruce up of the property this year. Keeping up with the Wayans, Mades, Nyomans, Ketuts and the like. There has been  a something of a building boom  in the neighborhood lately and I'm feeling left behind. Its also a chance to fix up some of the more glaring problems of the old house. Anyways I've clipped a first draft of the reno. Trying to think of a name for the place. Ideas gratefully entertained...

Playing With Pros

What were you doing last week? If you had had any sense at all you would down in Pecatu, Bali for the first Indonesian Ladies Open Golf Tournament. I was. The event lasted 4 days and had particicipants from all over Asia and Europe. Here is how it went.

Day 1 was the PRO/AM tournament. For a modest fee you can pair up with a pro and play best ball. Its a nice chance to meet the players in an informal setting. My partner was a girl from France who, (along with her mother) was enjoying her first trip to Bali. It was a bit amusing as she spoke minimal Engish and my French is pretty rusty (years of inactivity). She did most of her talking with her 3-wood. That girl can hit. Unfortunately we did not come close to winning the pro/am but the consolation was that I picked up some colorful expressions as to what to say en francais when you hit your ball into the rough. The pro/am was followed up by a party at the kelapa klub  which was another opportunity to mix with the organisers, players and other members of the golf establishment here in Indonesia.

Days 2 and 3 were the qualifying rounds of the tournament proper. As a volunteer I had to be there at 6 AM for no apparent reason as things did not really begin happenning before 7. My job was stand out on the teebox with a little sign that says "Quiet Please" whenever the players are about to make their shot. This would have been fun except that there were no spectators where I was positioned way out on the 8th hole. The things I do for a free lunch and a golf shirt! My other job was to try to keep water in in the giant cooler boxes that were scattered throughout the course. This involved texting the F&B people and telling them to get their ass out to number 7 with 2 cases of water and 10 kilos of ice. On the upside being out in the hinterland  allowed me to get some photos though which I am happy to share with all of you today.

Second Shot on 1

Approach on 7. A scenic and difficult hole.

Letting it rip!

Finishing off on 1.

The third and final day involved about half the field being cut. Today I got a new job which was to to carry a signboard around the course displaying the scores of the top three players. Except that the board was not ready at tee time so I had to follow the players around and manualy keep score with a pen and paper. The scoreboard finally showed up about the 4th or 5th hole and so we got to pack around a large heavy metal and wood sign up and down hills for 7 kilos - talk about having crosses to bear - its hot out here! They also forgot to print us any 8's  so were were constantly concerned that the girl at plus 6 would double bogey and we would be be forced to take her score off the board for a lack of numbers. Luck prevailed and my little team were able to get through the round with all our numbers intact.

The tournament was won by a Korean gal by name of Solar Lee. She was living proof that this game is all about finesse and not about power. All in all it went off rather well for a first time thing. The course was in great shape and they was a lot of support from local players, sponsers and volunteers. The only thing missing was the spectators - well their loss I suppose.

PS - it wouldn't be an Indonesian tournament without at least one odd translation so here it is. In case you can't read the small print it goes  like "BE THE FIRST TO WATCH FARIES BATTLES ON THE ISLAND OF THE GODS". I'm tempted to offer a prize for the best reverse engineering - I'm would love to know what they were trying to say here.

The Road Warrior

5:00 AM

Three cups of strong black coffee.
 A bowl of oatmeal mixed with bananas and brown sugar.

I am probably more awake now then I will be all day. I need to be. Strap on some shoes and head down to where the Tiger is parked. A few turns of the starter and she comes alive, purring softly in anticipation. I feel a cool hardness transform my persona. As lower my helm my over my head mild mannered PJ no longer exists. I have become the Road Warrior.

As the Road Warrior I join thousands of like minded individuals who partake in the daily death race up the bypass from Kerobokan to Jimbaran. Their welcoming cacophony greets me as I join their fraternity: the hoover of the Mios and Varios, the purr of the Tigers and Vixions, and the occasional deep rumble of the Harleys.

As road warriors we share the same mission - to get ahead of the other guy by any means possible.

Bali is probably one of the few places on earth where motorists accelerate while approaching a red light. It’s important to remember that driving here is competitive, and you can still progress while the light is red by squeezing ahead of the other guy. Suspend any sort of altruistic notions that you may ever have entertained in you life. No gap is too narrow. If you can get your nose into it you are in. Signal lights? Use ‘em as decoys to confuse potential overtakers. Lanes? Mere references - not to be taken seriously – make your own. Cars? Think of them as moving hazards or as poles in a slalom course. The ends here justify any and all means and the ends here means the front of the queue.

Of course this type of temperament is not without cost. Accidents are common on the battlefield. Many a road warrior bears the scars of the asphalt’s tarry embrace. And today, like every day at one or two will join that big bypass in the sky, victims of their own or their neighbor’s recklessness. Still apart from a few signboards advising warriors to wear helmets and slow down little has been done to change the attitude of most warriors from that of indifference to their fate.

Easing into Udayana I can slowly relax and release the death grip on the handlebars. My pulse gradually drops below 300 as the adrenalin dissipates in my blood. The road is narrower here which means less traffic and less places for other warriors to surprise you with sudden turns, stops, and starts. The air is cooler as well and I cautiously raise my visor to get a taste of it. At that moment a truck pulls out in from of me engulfing all of us in black exhaust so heavy that I have to shower it off.

Damm

There will always be one last truck.

Caveat Emptor

An interesting piece on the Op/Ed page of the Jakarta Post. I can only advise anyone investing in real estate here not to bet the farm. Would love to know which of the gazillion villa projects currently underway this one is.

Letter: We find no justice



Wed, 11/25/2009 2:13 PM
Opinion

We are Dutch who live in Spain. My husband was born in Surabaya and lived in Bandung until he was 17 years old. He still speaks Indonesian. We met someone in Bali who had a project to build 28 villas, but he needed investors.

We had a real estate company in Spain for 13 years and a big network. We had the investors and using our money, we could start the project. We used our money and our partner from Bali brought nothing.

When all the money was in, he started attacking us. Our office manager told us he would never give back our or our investor's money. This saga has gone on for almost five years. My husband is partner, investor and president commissioner, but when he asked four questions of our Bali partner, he got back four pages of rebuttal and no answers.

This partner took money out of the bank and put it in a private safe. He already had two high salaries. The budget, made by him to draw in investors, became three times the first budget's total, meaning there was no money left for the investors.

My husband had very good contact with all our employees, but our partner forbade them to talk to my husband, their boss. However, we found out there were several potential employees to build the villa's kitchens and one was his friend from Java. The pay was 30 percent higher than other employees. His friend got the position. Our partner earned money through commissions.

The partner then fired the employees, because they liked my husband too much. He employed new workers and forbid them to communicate with my husband and kept him away from the office. My husband arranged to have a forensic audit done by an accounting firm from Jakarta four times, two of which involving the police, but they were sent away by our partner.

One accountant had to wait an hour and a half outside, while the police were inside talking with our partner. Again they had to go. What went under the table? My husband wrote to ministers, we informed the Dutch and Canadian Embassies and more. We have hearings, but even when the outcome is positive, our partner offers much money to the judge. We are paying lawyers much money, but we go on, because there must be some justice in Indonesia.

It cannot be that somebody, who lives in Bali, can rip off hardworking and honest investors from Europe when he did not bring in one penny and wants to be the sole owner of the project, helped by police, judges and lawyers. My husband began a criminal case two times, but nothing has happened.

Now our partner is attempting to get his hand on all the documents to put the project under his name. But we will fight this until the end. And we will inform the media not to invest in Indonesia, because you can be sure about one thing, you will be cheated. There is no justice in Indonesia.






Clarie Morks


Marbella, Spain

The Parking Spot

No system is foolproof as fools are ingenious
- Corollary to Murphy’s Law

This is a longish post. Better get a coffee.

Oh for the good old days of the Tukang Parkir. Back in the day the man with a whistle had an almost arcane power over all vehicles in his domain. It was always interesting to me how he could guide cars reversing back to the left, right, or straight with the exact same series of gestures. Maybe the cars could understand him? The Tukang Parkir lived on the tips of his clients and seemed to recognize whether you had paid him or not from memory. Nowadays the tukang parkir is slowly being phased out in the name of automated billing systems and toll booth attendants. This trend away from the human element may make sense from the business standpoint but there are some rather glaring disadvantages which occurred to me while using one of these newfangled parking systems.

A while ago I had occasion to head down to Tuban where there was a shop in a well known mall that carried exactly what I was looking for. Heading into Tuban is always a challenge. It’s a maze of one way streets that serve no particular purpose that I can fathom (probably deserves a post of its own). The mall is located on a single lane road that is shared with taxis, buses, motorbikes, horse drawn buggies and pull carts. The buses and taxis are forever stopping to pickup passengers and nothing moves faster than the horse carts. The motorbikes weave from side to side opportunistically looking for that momentary gap between 2 vehicles to slide in and past. All part of the fun in blistering heat.

Having finally reached the mall the next thing is to get a place to park. Now at this point some explanation to the byzantine parking process is required. First you get your parking ticket. The ticket has to be paid inside the mall where the clerk validates the ticket. The gate attendant then takes the ticket at the parkade exit gate. Having received my parking card dutifully time stamped by the gate attendant I made my way cautiously into the dark recesses of the parking lot - the space reserved exclusively for motorbikes. Nosing in I was shocked to see the degree of disorganization and chaos. There was not a space to be had. There were bikes everywhere! Bikes were even parked on the access ways, constricting the path to the point where I to edge my way around the corners as I desperately searched for a spot to park. Damm there is absolutely nothing here. With nowhere to park I headed towards the exit. My plan now was to park a few blocks away and hoof it back to the mall.

This cunning plan began to go pear shaped when I tried to get past the parking attendant.  Just between us I'm not sure what sort of qualifications is required to to be a parking attendant. From the outsiders view they appear very much like a failed immigration officer - someone with a tiny bit of power combined with narrow view of their own duties. They are not persuaded by commonsense arguments such as why should I pay for parking if there is none available nor possess the comprehension that to pay one's ticket, one needs to park - the cashier is inside remember? What they are capable of understanding is two things: first to take the ticket and open the gate and second; let security deal that those miscreants and shit disturbers (namely moi) who refuse to pay for the privilege of driving through a dark stuffy underground parkade. So when faced with my complaint you can surmise what happenned next.

It’s surprising how quickly security can turn up. Even more surprising is how many. Within a few moments of my discussion with the parking attendant a sea of blue uniforms surrounded me and my bike. I wondered if this was how General Custer felt riding over the hill to find all those Indians waiting for him. Where did these guys come from? Two goons put a firm grip on my bike, (to keep me from getting away I suppose) and the rest did their best tough guy imitation. You know the look: arms crossed, unsmiling, shoulders back - they must practice that in a mirror -waiting for me to make the next move. I had a brief hilarious vision of going all Chuck Norris on their assses but I simply repeated my claim to the senior security fellow that if I was sold a non-parking spot then I shouldn't have to pay. By now there were people lining up behind me patiently honking their horns and trying to drive over us to get to the gate. The head guard thought furiously for a few moments then hit on a solution.

"It’s useless to complain to us Pak" he intimated to me. "We are just the staff. The management office is just upstairs so why don't you head on up to complain to them. We will look after your bike for you." As there was no other real option a parking spot was allocated to me (next to the booth actually- sweet!) and off I went in search of the admin office. At this point I really had what I wanted in the first place but I decided to find out for myself how the complaint process was handled.

If this mall is anything to go by I strongly recommend that all customers in all malls complain as much as possible. The reason being that the PR staff at the mall is extremely well spoken and easy on the eyes. You might even get a free cup of tea out of the process - I did. The complaint form itself was pretty small – mayhap they couldn’t imagine that anyone could find something to complain about. There was however a space for name, telephone number and email address which I dutifully filled in. The PR girl assured me with her 1000 ship smile that I would be contacted soon by the senior management who would deal with my complaint.

Yeah Right....

Several months later I am still waiting.........hello....i'm here....anybody there?????

In the good old days the tukang parkir who would have had this sort of issue sorted out in no time. Using the modern method and filling out all that paperwork I have yet to receive even the acknowledgment from the mall management that a problem exists. Don't even get me started on the whole empowerment issue that there is not a single manager in a major shopping centre who has enough fiduciary authority to comp a 1000 Rp parking ticket . Apparently this can only be done in Jakarta. Some progress!

I want my tukang parkir back.



1000 Rp – about 10 cents. Its not about the money



Tukang Parkir – Parking can be a chore in Indonesia. The tukang parking is a guy that helps people get parked and unparked. Armed with a whistle and a 3 word vocabulary they are uniquely skilled and getting you in and out with a minimum of fuss.

The Quest

Or ...a potty post...or a guy thing



I think its safe to say that men have a strange affinity to toilets. There are few places on earth more peaceful and tranquil than the privacy of one's privy, enjoying a magazine, (or book as needs must) while allowing nature takes its course. Closing that door opens one to a new world where only the immediate is of concern. There is also the sense of security that one is able to proceed with one's business undisturbed as is not always the case in a public toilet or an airline toilet. Its these disturbances that really cause me to shun the public commode where possible - given the choice I will always wait till I get home to do my business.

You can imagine then, after arriving from a 24 hour plane ride I found myself urgently in need of relief. In my haste I neglected to follow the first rule of toiletry - make sure the damn thing works before getting on the pot. After seeing to my needs I went to push the little button on top of the tank. Unfortunately there was no sound of water running merrily into the bowl. In fact the little button resisted all attempts to be moved into the flush position. WTF? Opening the top cover I stared in consternation at the absence of water in the tank. WTF? When I left home everything was fine. What is going on? My toilet, my porcelain throne, my inner sanctum had been defiled by the the twin demons of time and high calcium content of the water. This situation required immediate action so, after flushing out the jet lag with a bucket I wrote down everything that resembled a brand or model number on my till-now-trusty-commode and the following morning set out to replace the calcified guts of my loo. Little did I know...

A little background. I'll have you know I happen to be an engineer. Years of re-inventing the wheel has given me the conceit that, with enough time and money I can figure anything out. Toilets are not exactly high tech - should be a snap right? Well the first cracks in that little fantasy when I arrived at the first toko bahan bangunan (building supplies store). For the next 6-7 hours and several shops later I had several interesting variations of the following conversation.

Staff: Good morning sir. How can we help you?

Me: Good morning. I'm looking for some spare parts to fix my toilet.

Staff: Of course sir. May I know the brand of toilet you have.

Me: Of course! Its brand x.

Staff: ooooooooooooh! brand xxxxxxx....


Now when you get the oooooh delivered in a singsong it can mean one of two things. First that the staff you are talking to has no idea what the hell you are talking about. You may as well been asking for parts to a titan missile. Second, that he remembers brand x vaguely, as it was something he saw once in his youth, in a neighbors house somewhere in Java. "Sorry sir we don't have that brand here....have you tried my friends shop down road...perhaps he can help you." And so my first toiletless day passed in Futile quest through Denpasar going from building supply store to building supply store. Eventually I came to the realisation that brand x was one of those items like print cartridges. Here today gone tomorrow.

That evening I reasoned to myself that toilets should not be too different on the inside. I should be able to find some generic parts somewhere that I could use. A small voice inside was saying to me "PJ...replace the pot...it'll be easier" but I steadfastly ignored it. I was after all an engineer. I had worked on multi million dollar projects, a mere toilet was no match for my cunning. Putting the failings of the day behind me I slept the dreamless sleep of the man with a plan.

Bright and early the next day I was back at the the toko bahan bangunan. As it turned out I was partially correct in my theory of the evening before. But choosing the right generic parts proved in itself to be something of a challenge. As I can now tell you there are more permutations on the inner workings of a toilet than there are types of women's shoes. In all its sort of a testament to the ingenuity of the mundane or the number of different ways to skin a cat. Quite simply I was amazed at the length that people will go to to ensure the perfect, most reliable, flush. After studying a number of different contraptions I choose an assembly that I thought might work and hurried home to do my best imitation of Tim Allen .

Arriving home I immediately set to work. Everything was going fine until I noticed that the flush mechanism was 2 inches longer than the tank. Damm its too big! The little voice in my my head was decidedly sarcastic at this point:" toldya to buy a new one PJ". Firmly ignoring that voice I studied the flusher more carefully. It looked to be modular and sure enough, with the help of my trusty Swiss army knife could be shortened. "Ha! I am getting somewhere" I thought as I was putting the top back on the tank. Filling the tank needed only a slight adjustment and pushing the button resulted in a most satisfying sploosh which was only partially mitigated by the fact that I had forgotten the replace the seal between tank and bowl and had just flooded the bathroom. D'oh!

Eventually I replaced that seal and my toilet is now good as new. Better actually. If there is a lesson here I suppose its sometimes better to let the professionals do things that you can do yourself. Equally though its important to do things yourself just so you can say you have done them. I don't think I have much of a future as a toilet repair man but at least I will know what the next one is talking about when it comes time to fix the loo.

Now about that flickering lamp at the gate. Should be a cinch to fix....

The Open Road

Every now and then you just have to escape the daily chaos that is Kuta and get out on the road. I can't think of a better way to to do this than hopping on my bike and heading into the hills. Imagine, only 50 km from my front door you can sit by the lake and contemplate the effects of mass tourism on Bali. Welcome to Puraluhur Beratan, in Bedugul!

Its nice and cool here.

There is even a beringan (banyan) tree to sit under. This tree has to be the mother of all beringan. According to the temple guards it is about 150 years old. I'm sure there are lots here that are older but this one was easiest to get a photo of. These trees are huge!

You can get boat rides on the lake but this runs a bit on the pricey side - the outriggers look OK but the powerboats look a little dodgy to me. The restaurant was another shock. 24,000 Rp for the warmest orange juice in Bali. Glad I didn't try the food. There are plenty of restaurants on the way back to Kuta that offer good food at much more reasonable prices. Most come with rice terrace views.

A roadside warung just past Mengwi. Lunch here will run you 3000-5000 Rp.

After a few hours driving here I needed a break.

Finally just a note on driving here. The idea of defensive driving has yet to be fully embraced by the Balinese. Expect to be cut off, to see oncoming traffic in your lane, to see vehicles without brake lights, to see vehicles turning without signalling, to see vehicles entering the carriageway without checking for traffic, and so on. Use of the Bali Brake (the horn) is mandatory at intersections, approaching traffic, and passing. This can be stressful at first, but you will either to learn to live with it or stay off the roads. I try to take my time and usually try to stay either well ahead or well behind other vehicles. Night driving should be avoided as much as possible. If you have the patience for it, driving yourself is a much easier and cheaper way to see this island.

Hope you enjoyed the tour.

The House That Joko Built (an update)

The day hums sweetly when you have enough bees working for you - Baron Vladimir Harkonnen

Last February, the groundwork for a new villa across from my place was just getting underway. A fair bit of progress has occurred since then and it now seems like a good time to update.

Now we are getting somewhere. The foundation has been filled in and the walls are up. The beginnings of the swimming pool can be seen on the left. The Villa will three bedrooms along with a living area and kitchen. The pool is planned to be one of the overflow types with a waterfall - that should look nice.

Today's usual peace and quiet was broken by the noise of a cement mixer starting up and lots of shouting of instructions in Indonesian. Today was the day for pouring cement into the forms that would soon become the main support pillars for the house. A few extra helpers were called in especially for the occasion.

The bucket brigade is at the ready.

The bucket brigade in action. The whole time there were pouring cement they were singing a song - I suppose it makes the work go by more pleasantly. Their singing is what got me out of my house to see what was going on.

The best job of the day - mixing cement! I once watched a crew build a three story hotel using one tiny cement mixer along with a block and tackle to get the cement where it needed to go. Amazing!

Someone was planning ahead or maybe he just got lucky. The gravel arrived just-in-time to go into the mixer. Who says Indonesians are not abreast with the latest critical path management techniques?

The cement will take a few days to set and then the forms can be removed and the next stage of building started. Some of the workers have taken advantage of the lull to go home for a family visit.

It will still be some time before this house gets done so I may be able to milk 1 or 2 more postings from it.

pj

btw Just a little something on this whole villa thing.

Although there have been several villas going up in my neighborhood lately, there is still no sign of anything resembling infrastructure from the government. The access road is in terrible shape and some some of the residents of this street still prefer to dump their trash roadside as opposed to having it picked up(for a very reasonable fee). Electricity is at a minimum and the waiting list for power is at least a year (unless you want to pay extra and even that's no guarantee). Anyone thinking of buying a villa here should really apprise themselves of what they are getting. Prices are not cheap and the quality can be frighteningly poor. Caveat Emptor.

The House That Joko Built - Part 1

This is the farmer sowing the corn,
That kept the the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
- Nursery Rhyme



For the past few years I have enjoyed the view of the swamp/sawah across from my house. One of my neighbors has a water buffalo and its somehow reassuring to see him every morning, bellowing away while chest deep in the mud. But all that's about to change. A few days ago some folks turned up with survey stakes and some string and proceeded to mark out territory in what I've come to think of as my swamp. Apparently the land has been sold and someone is building a villa on it. I have no real objection to this - They will build something anyway and better a villa than a bengkel (motorcycle repair shop). The project could take a few months depending on the flow of materiels so I thought I would take some photos now, and some more a month or so and see how they get on.



Before any work can be started the accommodation of the staff must be considered. There are about 6 or 7 workers and they assembled this bamboo lean-to from scratch in a couple of hours. Haven't worked out where the water and err... toilet facilities are just yet. Not much in the way of lighting at nighttime either. The mosquitoes must be feasting. Apparently it's cheaper to bring in laborers from Java then it is to hire locals. The disadvantage of course of using imported labor is when you discover faults in the piping 2 months after the house is built these guys will be very difficult to track down.

The work proper. There is enough going on here to keep any critical path analyst busy. There will eventually be a wall where the trench is and the area inside the trench will be filled with crushed stone to make the foundation for the building to come. The limestone piled up next to the road will have to be spread by hand over the entire area - one shovelful at a time. Note the lack of anything resembling power tools. This is all done by hand - very impressive in this heat.

This man is assembling the rebar for the beton bertulang (reinforced concrete). These will be used in foundations to give the structure some earthquake resistance and tensile strength. Each of the cross members is attached to the stringers by means of baling wire.

More rebar. Note the safety footwear.

Eventually there will be a wall where this man is digging. The wall will support the crushed stone that is being dumped in. The guy dug this trench very quickly...about a day and a half from start to finish

Of course any project has its detractors. These bovine former residents look on in dismay at the of the loss of their playground.

As an engineer, I'm rather interested in this project. I was away when my house was being built. From a personal perspective my Father built a house from scratch back in the 80's. Mom and the kids were conscripted into his personal labor force; luckily I managed to avoid most of the draft by having 2 jobs at the time. Dad would have loved these guys.

Hope to update later this week.

My update - 12-feb-2009. Posted 25-feb-2009

I meant to get this in earlier but I had a plane to catch. The boys (and girls) have started on the foundation. These foundation walls are disconcertingly large.

They also started drilling a well. this part of town has yet to be hooked up to the city water supply. Usually they drill to 50 m.

This will be all till I get back. Stay tuned!

Pj

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A (pseudo) message from the ministry of tourism

Dear Potential Visitor

Please come to Indonesia. Didn't you notice that we are having a special visit "Indonesia Year 2008"? You must have missed the 2 day advertising blitz. Whats so special you ask? For starters we will be hitting you up for an extra 25 bucks coming in and 15 bucks leaving. We really really really need the money and we figure that anyone coming here can certainly afford to be nickle and dimed. Besides, just because no other tourists spots in Asia have a VOA is no reason why we shouldn't. We're mavericks you know - who wants to run with the crowd? Moreover, as any accountant will tell you, its always best to get your money up front.

Hope you like our beer. Sorry about the lack of hard stuff. On the bright side even if we had it you probably couldn't afford it. Actually our lack of booze its your fault. Wasn't it you guys who told us to clean up corruption? Drinking is bad for you anyways.

By the way we have a new porn bill but don't worry - our panel of experts have determined that you will not in inconvenienced in any way - maybe - we don't plan to trot it out except for special cases.

See you soon!

Your buddy

Jero

PS
Helpful tip...come in an airplane. Don't sail your own boat or we just might confiscate it. You could be smuggling alcohol for all we know.

Somebody really should have told the rest of Indonesia about the Tourism Ministry's little promotion plan. Didn't they get the memo?

Travel Warnings For Indonesia

Pretty much everybody has issued travel warnings about Indonesia. Australia has the strongest. But what surprises me is the naivete of some people who have been living in Jakarta for less than a year and feel obliged to comment on the travel warnings as if their few months in Jakarta had given them some kind of mystical insight into the security situation of the entire country. Its irresponsible to fob off travel warnings as a racist rants; Indonesia just isn't that secure. It may feel secure in Jakarta but Jakarta is only a single patch on the whole mosaic that is Indonesia. Things may look a whole lot different in Kalimantan, Sumatra, and Bali.

There have been improvements. It is getting better security wise. However there are still unresolved issues in Aceh, Ambon, Timor, Kalimantan, Sulewesi, Papua, and Timor. The police have done a good job in tracking down terrorists but Noordin M. Top (one of the main characters and recruiters) has yet to be found. Who knows where he is. There is still a porous border between Indonesia and the Phillipines which is home to training camps for insurgents, as well as a supply house for weapons and materials. The large turnout for the Bali Bombers funerals indicate a level of grassroots support for their actions. Even Jakarta is not immune from unrest. Just a few months ago Jakarta's resident thugs were out in force to break up a pro-tolerance rally. Several people were injured and police waited until well after the event before making arrests. There is still lots of room for improvement.

Goverments will always err on the side of caution when composing travel warnings for their citizens. Its sort of a cover-your-ass thing looking to the worst case scenario. As long as nobody is forbidding travel to Indonesia I don't see a big problem in a travel advisory. I'm not saying that people should not come here. I'm here after all. People should however be fully aware of the risks involved in travelling to a foreign country before they go. It is their right as citizens and the obligation of their governments. To claim that Indonesia is perfectly safe just because you had a good evening in the clubs is just... well... irresponsible.

Travel Advisories for Indonesia can be found here, here, and here

finally...

Its done. Early this morning the 3 Bali Bombers were executed by firing squad. The slow, ineluctable legal process leading towards their eventual capture, trial, sentencing, and death has reached an ending. Now that they are gone I can only hope that all the free press their friends and supporters are receiving will wither and die along with them.

The memories of this bombing have somewhat faded from my mind. I can remember driving past both clubs on my bike, deciding it was too crowded to stop, and continued on to the hard rock cafe. When the bombs went off I had initially thought it was a gas bottle explosion. Only when people started streaming towards the beach did I realise that it was something much more serious and sinister. I made my way back back to my cafe which was a few hundred metres from the bombsite. It was empty- the staff and guests had panicked and fled when they heard the explosion. My next stop was my kost. This had filled up over the last hour or so with a mix of foreigners and locals. I think we were all in shock, some people were crying and some, like me, were just numb. Most people were trying to call anyone they knew, looking for loved ones, and to reassure others that they too, were ok. Some tried to return to the site, only to be turned away by police. Many would have done more if they'd known what to do and how to do it.

The next few days saw it raining glass from the shop windows. Benesari street was covered with the stuff. In my cafe it was busy for a couple of days with people trying to arrange their trips home. Nobody was talking. The cleanup on Jalan Legian took years to complete - now there is a small memorial where Paddys used to be. Many of the witnesses have moved on - Kuta is like that - few stay for a long time.

In the grand scheme of things this sad episode counts for little. But for those who were there I hope that in some way they can put the events of 2002 behind them and put the Bali 3 from their hearts.

Pj