I decided to go to Bali to buy furniture after meeting a friend who told me what a great deal one can get on teak. A great deal that is, if you can buy enough to load a huge shipment container, pay the costs of trip, hotel, and guide. All in all, I think we broke even, but what a great way to furnish the house.
After an arduous 34 hours of traveling, we arrived in Denpasar Airport and were accosted with heat and humidity that is like Alabama in August after a rain. On the never ending plane ride, I read two complete books about Bali and it’s customs. This is a great description: “Bali is a magnet for the most consistently overused clichés to be found in any bibliography of travel writing. Exquisite, seductive, mesmerizing, enchanting, magical — these normally expressive adjectives lose their power to convince after a while. It is a writer’s dilemma, this island of Bali, for these words are accurate and to the point. Anything less seems inadequate.”
The airport itself is a work of art. Everything is sculpted and carved. Many of the women and men are dressed in the traditional wrapped skirts made of Batik (which is imported) or Songket. Although we have not been to a temple yet, it has been explained that men will have to cover their long pants with a skirt to enter. The majority of Balinese are Hindu and this means that everywhere you walk, there are offerings to the Gods. Outside every shop, hut and building, there is an offering on the ground consisting of flowers, incense, and food. It is placed there in morning, afternoon and evening to thank the Gods for prosperity and good health.
The Four Seasons Hotel is absolutely fabulous. All private villas have their own infinity relaxing pool that overlook the ocean and all the gorgeous foliage. Everything here seems to have a bloom on it — even what looks like ivy seems to bloom. Each villa has high walls around it for privacy. There is a thatched roof pavilion that contains the bedroom with the huge bathroom area with large tube and 5 foot by 5-foot shower. Outside is the outdoor shower in it’s own little garden. Across from the bedroom pavilion is another thatch roof open-air gazebo with the dining area, table and sleeping couch. To the side is the pool and a whole area with lounge chairs. You could just stay in your room and order room service for a week and be happy in your own beautiful compound.
In the early morning you can smell the incense burning from all the temples just in this resort. I asked the manager and he explained that they have 200 “sacred altars” — actual statues with a place for offerings and then 2400 offering places. Imagine, that means 2600 places to burn incense, 3 times per day in this hotel compound alone! In our villa, they place offerings in 5 different areas. Incredible!
Today is Saturday here and except for the one day, all we have done is look at the furniture stores. I actually feel more exhausted than when we arrived. We have been up and out each morning by 8 am and have been wandering and looking till 7 or 8 at night. The first day we ventured on our own to the town of Kuta, which is like Daytona or Panama City Beach on steroids. Frantic people hustling you to buy things, wonderful ticky-tacky crap everywhere. Of course, much was purchased!! It is exhausting, however, to constantly have to be rude to people who are hawking their wares (and they all have the same stuff) and are very friendly about it.
The Balinese are very nice people. They smile and touch you and thank you for looking and beg you to buy. It takes a lot to have to say — no — no thank you — a couple of hundred times an hour. Unfortunately, many times you have to be rude. I always remember being in Jamaica with my brother and realizing that to stop people, I had to become a bitch, which is a shame. I also always keep in mind how I observed that they don’t bother the Germans. I think from now on when they ask me where I am from, I will say Germany. If they find out you are from the US, you are a sitting duck. Germans seem to scare them.
We have been very lucky. We were asking at the Four Seasons about renting a car and driver, etc., and they suggested using their former manager, a Balinese named KoKo. KoKo (short for coconut tree — he is 6 foot 6 inches, which is unheard of over here — most men are 5 foot 5 inches) is wonderful. He now operates an antique furniture store and knows about everything in the area. Since he was the manager of the Four Seasons here for many years, he is fluent in English. He also opened the Tokyo Four Seasons and speaks fluent Japanese.
Anyway, this has turned out to be the best thing ever. Koko has escorted us to all the furniture stores, advised us on quality and will act as our shipping agent and arrange everything. We will pay him 15% of the total cost of the furniture we buy. It has been strenuous for me however, because I still feel like I am at home making all the decisions. These are some pretty big decisions, too. We are buying about 150 pieces to use in the house. Therefore, I am walking around in this heat with house plans and diagrams. Figuring colors, sizes, where we need chairs, tables, etc. The biggest problem is the choices. There are literally hundreds of vendors and thousands of different qualities and prices. We came over here to get the teak cheap, but are starting to realize that you get what you pay for. I am constantly under high “decision stress” and overall it has been unpleasant and tiring. I cannot even get to sleep for worrying about my decisions and am getting up at 6 every morning.
I think we arrived at a final breaking point and I gave a list that I had been up all night making to one of the furniture makers. He has come back with a price and now we just have to decide if we are willing to pay it. His work is beautiful, but costly. In one way it is a relief, in another it is even more pressure worrying if I have made the right choice. DAMN!!!!!
We are also buying a spectacular chair by a man named Alex here in Bali. He is a Dutch born designer that makes furniture out of “old teak” that he creates himself. The piece I picked out is fantastic, but then I found out that Clinton bought the same piece – hmmmm! But we will probably get it, because it is so different and very modern and exquisitely made.
One night we had the pleasure of going to KoKo’s home and having a fabulous home cooked meal. KoKo’s wife is a model, ex-TV announcer turned shoemaker. Her designs are shipped all over Italy and France. I look forward to seeing her shoes and probably will get her to make me some. KoKo has met Manolo when he was at the Four Seasons and says his wife’s’ designs are a lot like his.
We have been eating at all the street vendor stands, with KoKo’s guidance. We have sampled much of the food that all the guide books warn you against. So far, so good, no sickness – yet.
One night we went to local fish “restaurant.” Turns out there are 500 stalls in a row on the beach. You walk down and sit in the sand on little tables and they bring the food. As you eat your plastic chair, suitable for small children, slowly sinks into the sand. You cannot see what you are eating because you are dining by starlight. It was delicious though and it was nice to eat with all the locals.
During those last couple of days, Koko took us high in the mountains, where, shockingly, his cell phone still worked. We were there to visit one of the most sacred temples during a “prayer” festival. As we drove in we passed bus after bus, car after car, truck after truck loaded, and I mean crammed, with people, mostly men. Each vehicle carried at least 10,20,50, 100 people, some sitting on the roof or hanging onto the windows from the outside. All this is done in skirts, mind you. Impressive.
Ten thousand people were gathering to come to the open-air huge temple, incense was almost to the choking point. And everywhere woman were balancing massive trays of food on top of their heads. More offerings to the Gods.
As we drove down the street in front of the temple, a loud speaker was blasting away, repeating the same chant-like phrase over and over. It was quite hypnotic. After we parked and were getting ready to walk towards the Temple, my curiosity reached its breaking point. I asked about the chanting, fully expecting some pearls of Balinese wisdom that I could cherish from my time here. Koko looked at me and laughed and said they were announcing “No parking in the front of the Temple. Keep Moving. More parking down the street. Keep Moving.”
No matter where you go … some things never change.