Every Dog Has His Day

These are about as rare as hen's teeth. Tucked in amongst the slices,thin shots, duffs,windies and 4 putts I somehow managed to sink one from the teebox. I'm starting to think that golf is merely a series of disasters punctuated by just enough glorious moments to entice one to continue playing. Sort of like life in that regard.

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.

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 Tournament

For some reason I enjoy Golf. Maybe its the joy of tromping around in high heat and humidity. Maybe its the pert caddies. Maybe its for that one-in-a-thousand shot amongst all the slices, duffs, shanks, hooks, and missed putts. Take your pick. So although I am a serious duffer I quite welcome the opportunity to get out on the course for a few holes and into the clubhouse for a few beers post-play.

It was not too difficult to convince me therefore to enter into a charity tournament a few weeks back at New Kuta Golf. The tournament was held to benefit the R.O.L.E. Foundation. It could've been a benefit for the society of wayward oilfield expats for all I care - any excuse is a good reason to play.

So Sunday afternoon Buddy and I found ourselves on the Tee box with a cooler full of beer, waiting for the third member of our flight to show up. Now usually I recommend playing golf with strangers. Its a great way to meet people and its always surprising to find out who knows who. But this time was different. This time our stranger was Mr 18 handicap. I sure 18 handicap has a real name but I really don't care if he does. Anyone who introduces themselves by announcing their handicap is a social equivalent of the guy at the party who talks constantly about his Mercedes parked out front. Furthermore I have serious doubts about anyone wearing sweatbands on a golf course.

After making his presence known 18 handicap then proceeded to the tee box to make his drive. Buddy and I watched in anticipation. We waited while 18 handicap made a few cursory practice swings with his thousand dollar graphite driver. We waited some more while 18 handicap made impressive faux measurements of topography and wind velocity using only his driver - apparently now it was also a sextant, surveying device and anemometer. We waited while 18 handicap made minuscule adjustments to his stance while simultaneously moving his head up towards his target and back down towards the ball - perhaps he was concerned that either the fairway or the ball would disappear if he took his eyes off it - who knows. All I know it was taking way too long to make this shot. Jeez Louise I thought, just hit the damn ball already. Finally 18 handicap took his stroke and fired the ball 260 yards straight into a gully. What a putz! Now there is nothing in golf better than watching someone you don't like make a spectactular bad shot. Makes you feel warm all over. In our case it meant that 18 handicap had to go through his interminable routine all over again but in a way it was worth it. Buddy took advantage of the delay by burying himself in the beer cooler. Not a bad place to be.

Several hours (and beers) our little flight has the dubious distinction of being the last people on the golf course. Thanks to 18 handicap by the time we had finished everyone else had gone home. As the Marshall handed me my door prize he mentioned , "we had to put 18 handicap with you and buddy pj - no one else would play with him".

Now you tell me.