HECTOR'S BALI TIMES DIARY [for Apr. 24]

The Bali Times is at www.thebalitimes.com and on Facebook








MOVE inside and age a little: Tattler magazine in its March issue featured Investment Coordination Board chief Muhammad Lutfi as its cover story. On the magazine cover (top) he’s a youthful fellow. Inside (right) he seems to have turned into his older brother.


Garuda Flops Out,
Where Others Fly In
GARUDA’S decision to drop out of Darwin is unwelcome. It demonstrates the continued inability of the national airline to capitalize on its natural advantage. Announcing suspension of the Darwin service from April 24 on the route it has flown for 28 years, it cited the difficulty it faces as a “full service airline” competing with low-cost carriers.

Those difficulties are understandable, but ceding the field to the competition seems a strange way of expanding business. In fact, it sounds like another lame excuse for non-performance. The Qantas offshoot Jetstar has been gifted the route as solo operator – unless the Darwin-based Air North returns to the sector with its Brazilian compact jets, which we hear is a possibility – and Indonesia’s flag-carrier disappears from view.

Indonesia’s national airline – although “notional” again seems more appropriate in the context – will however make two post-suspension flights to and from Darwin, on May 8 and May 18, to accommodate traffic generated by the Arafura Games.

There’s no doubt that the era of low-fare flying presents full service airlines with a significant challenge. Qantas has met this in part by creating its own low-fare airline (Jetstar). But Garuda, which has official benefits no longer available to Qantas (such as government ownership) and a lower cost structure, should critically examine its own performance when asked to justify precisely why it has to pull out of a destination immediately in our neighbourhood and which it has served continuously for more than enough time to have created a sustainable market presence.

One relative newcomer to the challenge of providing air services that people actually want on the Australia-Bali route – Pacific Blue, the energetic Virgin regional international brand that flies from Australia to Bali from capital cities from Brisbane to Perth, though not from Darwin – is hardly looking backwards either.

Spokesman Colin Lippiatt told The Diary this week: “In recent times we have increased capacity on existing routes and we will soon be adding new direct services to Denpasar from both Sydney and Melbourne. This in itself speaks to the strength of demand we are seeing for air travel between Australia and Bali right now and the confidence we have in the popularity of the destination for Australian travellers.”



Heartthrob Alert
JULIA Roberts, who has parlayed her EQ (eye quotient) into Hollywood über-bankability over an extended screen career, is going round again in the naïf-turns-seer role she plays so well – and this time in Bali. According to the Hollywood newssheet Variety, she and actor Richard Jenkins have signed to film Elizabeth Gilbert's international bestseller, Eat, Pray, Love.

The Paramount movie, to be directed by Ryan Murphy and produced by Brad Pitt, will put into visual form the story of the recently divorced author's search for self-discovery during a journey that takes her to Italy and India and finally (best of all) to Bali. Roberts will portray Gilbert, while Jenkins will appear as a Texan spiritual seeker Roberts/Gilbert meets in an Indian ashram. The Bali portion of the story takes place in Ubud – surely the epicentre of the seeking-guru set – where Roberts/Gilbert finds love, healing and the mentoring of an aging Balinese guru.

We hear filming is scheduled to begin later this year. But the real question is: Who will get the role of leg-double for the lovely Julia this time?

Away With the Fairies
JUST a reminder that the Bali Spirit Festival – in Ubud (of course) – offers the chance for a six-day communion involving music, dance, yoga and a whole lot else to anyone with nothing better to do between April 28 and May 3.

The Festival schedule and everything else you could possibly want for a fulfilling experience is available at www.balispiritfestival.com. Do have fun, now. Sadly, there’s no word whether Julia Roberts will be flying in for some pre-movie fieldwork.

Nasty Case of Gastro
THE Diary, on Seminyak-bound trips up Sunset Road, has frequently chuckled when passing the big sign marking the commercial outlet of Gastro kitchen equipment. It’s a visual double-entendre – unintended of course – that temporarily lightens the brain overload you get when driving in Bali, if out of a need for self-preservation you concentrate the mind fully on the fact that for most drivers here the brain is the last gear engaged.

In similar vein, a giggle was forthcoming when we heard that Foul-Mouth Former Celeb Chef Gordon Ramsay's London “gastropubs” have been accused of serving up readymade, delivered, cheap dishes – and whacking massive mark-ups on them while claiming they are largely cooked in-house. We hear he is also selling his prized Ferrari in a bid to raise cash.

Our joy at this intelligence is spoiled a little by the fact that it appeared in the London Sun newspaper, the Rupert Murdoch blot on the landscape that found commercial success by ignoring the sentient and pandering to the insensate requirements of the Dumkopfs.

In the Firing Line
SEAN Dorney, the veteran Australian correspondent who got thrown out of Fiji by Commodore Tinpot Dictator recently, is no stranger to conflict. He is a veteran also of Papua New Guinea, which once expelled him and once, also, gave him a gong for services rendered – an imperial MBE, since PNG is about the last place left, other than the homeland of Queen Elizabeth II (Happy Birthday for April 21, Ma’am), that still hands out these relics of empire.

Given that April 25 is ANZAC Day – Australia and New Zealand’s national day of remembrance – it seems appropriate to relay a lovely story about Dorney told by one of The Diary’s affable mates from Australian military circles. It was during the Bougainville “troubles”. Dorney was sent to the island from Port Moresby by the ABC and our mate was the Aussie escorting officer. A stand-up to camera in front of something burning at the abandoned copper mine on the island was called for. While this was in progress, two shots whistled overhead, unheard by Dorney. His escort officer (and we think the camera man, who had some prior experience of shots whistling overhead elsewhere) kept silent.

Dorney, told later, asked his escort why he hadn’t told him (“Didn’t want to put you off”), then laid into the ale at the Aussie-run hotel he was staying at. Later – much later – the phone rang and it was the ABC seeking a live cross with their man on the spot. Uh-oh, thought our military chap. But what a trouper Dorney was! Up he sprang, from full sprawl position, and gave a first-class, no glitches, on air report. Call over, he resumed full sprawl.

Dorney’s father, by the way, won a DSO as a World War II medical officer.



Sun Sets on a Personal EmpireTHE British writer J.G. Ballard is most famous for his novel Empire of the Sun, in which he vividly portrayed his childhood in a Japanese internment camp in Shanghai during World War II. It was a novel that brought the East Asian element of that gigantic conflict into new light and helped underline the crucial importance of children’s memories of great events in the complex process of defining narrative history.

In these days of facile and often self-serving analysis, too many writers are described as giants on the world’s literary scene. But Ballard deserves the accolade. And it is therefore doubly sad to record his passing on Sunday last at his quiet riverside home in the country west of London, where he had lived since the 1960s. He was 78 and had been suffering prostate cancer.

In a career spanning for than half a century, Ballard became a cult figure for a series of dystopian science fiction novels such as The Drowned World. One of his most controversial works was Crash, a novel about people who are sexually aroused by car accidents. It was later turned into a film directed by David Cronenberg.

His agent, Margaret Hanbury, said of him: “His acute and visionary observation of contemporary life was distilled into a number of brilliant, powerful novels.” Empire of the Sun, which Steven Spielberg adapted into a Hollywood film, was by most accounts the best. It was based on his privileged childhood with his expatriate parents in China and, following the entry of Japan into the global conflict in 1941 and the Japanese occupation of the international concession in Shanghai, his experiences as an internee.

Japan’s militarism and expansionary imperialism brought misery to millions and is a dark spot on that nation’s record. But history will one day record – with a measure of equanimity brought by time and perspective – that it was the single most important factor in ending the age of European imperialism, certainly in Asia and most likely globally.

Ballard wrote in his memoirs that his early, often violent, experiences – “I remember a lot of the casual brutality and beatings-up that went on, but at the same time we children were playing a hundred and one games” – that in many ways his entire fiction was the dissection of a deep pathology that he had witnessed in Shanghai and later in the post-World War II world that had been irrevocably changed by that conflict.

His youthful experience, revealed in fictional form in Empire of the Sun, showed an understanding of the Japanese and Chinese that until recent times was sadly absent in the Caucasian cultures of the west. For that alone we owe him thanks.

Don’t Torture Us, Jeff
CNN, the once ubiquitous 24-hour satellite news channel now challenged by both reality and competition, continues to surprise. A reader tells us he heard leading network talking head Jeff Tubin tell viewers (well, we know there was at least one, don’t we?) on April 17 that “the US does not engage in water-boarding, unlike some countries, like Indonesia...”

Er, Jeff ... mate ... Read anything out of the Guantanamo embarrassment lately?

Got Something to Tell Us?
WE’RE sure you have, and Hector would love to hear from you. To make this easier, we’ve set him up with his own email address: diary@thebalitimes.com. Feel free to tell tales there, or pass on useful little snippets of information that otherwise might not see the light of day.

HECTOR'S BALI TIMES DIARY [for Apr. 17]

The Bali Times is at www.thebalitimes and on Facebook

THE CORBY SISTERS: Schapelle evidently finds life a bit of a drag, but for Mercedes, there’s no cover-up at all.

Who Said Crime
Doesn’t Pay?
THE Corby sisters – Schapelle Behind-the-Wire and Mercedes On-the-Run – are back in the news. They just can’t keep out of the limelight however hard they try, poor things. Today, if you Google “Schapelle” you don’t get a friendly little query in response, asking “Did you mean Schlappers?” Oh no. You are instantly buried under an avalanche of cyber-guff that comes from everywhere, including from those twinks who are so convinced the moon is made of cheese (no sorry, that’s the wrong fairytale; we mean the one where Schapelle didn’t do it) that they’ve set up web sites to promote her cause and written songs about the injustice of jailing the dear, sweet girl. Ho bloody hum.

Cause of the latest outbreak of inventive publicity is that some dill-pickle Australian government lawyers weren’t quick enough to file suit and therefore serve the public interest by seizing the A$280, 000 Schapelle got from that book she had ghosted in which she claimed little green men from Mars abducted her boogie board bag in flight from Australia to Bali and that when it was examined by customs at Ngurah Rai it had been stuffed with significantly saleable quantities of that naughty weed Bob Marley used to sing about.

Because of this oversight and the place of precedent in Australian law, the courts there may now be disposed to order the hand-back of earlier proceeds of hard-luck stories. That could add up to an additional A$196, 000. It should all help make life (well, 20 years) in Kerobokan a little more bearable. Pay for a few hair-dos. Buy a nice lunch out now and then. Fund a few more get-out-of-jail breakdowns. That sort of thing.

Meanwhile, it is reported that Mercedes drove away with A$2 million from the Aussie tabloid TV current affairs show Today Tonight (she sued the Seven Network for broadcasting her former friend Jody Power saying her former friend Mercedes Corby was a manipulative liar), another A$100, 000 from various media outings, and A$50, 000 for appearing sans culottes and much else in Ralph, the magazine for sad little chaps who don’t get out much. We assume she showed the world her wares after she had spent a goodly proportion of her tittle-tattle-tale-telling take on a new set of boobs.

The Voters have Spoken. The Bastards!
ONE Bali candidate in last week’s legislative elections collapsed and died as the early results came in and she heard she had attracted only a handful of votes. It is not known whether this was a direct cause, but whatever the circumstances, it is a sad event.

Less sad – in fact, rather risibly not so – is the growing panic we hear is afflicting unsuccessful candidates who, having borrowed billions of rupiah to finance their way into plush legislative office, now face the task of paying their loans back without the assistance of the salaries and other perks they were expecting. Democracy’s a pain, sometimes.

Nice to See You, Minister
HASSAN Wirayuda, who might otherwise have been heavily engaged in summiteering in Pattaya, Thailand, enjoyed a pleasant lunch in Ubud last weekend. He was between engagements – not in the thespian sense, which is when you go and serve beers in a bar for dosh – and wearing batik.

Perhaps as our Foreign Minister dined quietly and peacefully he found time to reflect that in Ubud, which like everywhere else in Indonesia that his Australian counterpart, Stephen Smith, still advises people not to risk visiting, no one was actually shooting at anyone. They were in Bangkok, we think. Something to do with red shirts (perhaps the fashionistas are in insurrection?).

The Australians issued new advice for Thailand on April 12 (the last time we could be bothered checking). The advice does now suggest Aussies without compelling reasons to be in Bangkok and surrounding areas should reconsider why they are there. It maintains a “do not travel” status for southern Thailand (but not Phuket). But the overall level of advice for Thailand remains at a low-key “exercise caution” level. Just thought you should know that as you move about ultra-peaceful Bali.

‘Gloombusters’ Head for Bali
BACK in the days when the British had an empire – it’s just a blink in geological time but doesn’t it seem such a long time ago? – it used to be surmised by historians in their cups that the real driver of Cloudy Isles imperialism was the appalling weather you get there. In other words, the “British Diaspora” was the dispersal of people from their homelands because they wanted to see the sun and get a life.

It’s a nice thought and might go some way towards explaining why Australia’s official religion is Hedonism. It also puts into an interesting perspective present-day western perception of economic refugees – you know who we mean, all those guys and gals, many of them Indonesians, who do the heavy lifting at the bottom of the food chain in the economies of Europe and North America, the Gulf States and Saudi Arabia, and to a lesser extent Australia.

There seems to be a similar, though of course smaller, movement to Bali. We hear that platoons of Irish, English and Scots are heading for Bali escape the doom and gloom of the global economic downturn. That’s on the basis of a brisk trade in new enrolments at the Canggu Community School and – anecdotally – a surge in property acquisitions.

The big draw – apart from the weather, economic and climatologically – seems to be a less expensive lifestyle and education. What these people are doing here, as in earning a living, is unclear. But perhaps they are midlife refugees looking to kick back and enjoy some time on the remains of their formerly plush bank accounts.

They’re Looking For You
SHOULD any of the foregoing economic refugees be of a mind to earn a crust while resident here, they may find additional impediments in their way. The Department of Manpower and Transmigration has announced it will tighten up on permits for foreign workers in anticipation of a coming wave of foreigners seeking work during the GFC.

The Minister of Manpower and Transmigration, Erman Suparno, told the Indonesian language newspaper Bisnis Indonesia last week closer scrutiny of foreign workers was necessary to preserve local job opportunities, particularly in management positions.

Under the rules, foreigners on work permits can only hold “non-strategic” positions while they train Indonesians to take over their jobs. This accounts for the large number of people whose working permits, and frequently business cards, carry the legend T/A after their title (Technical Adviser). Pick up a spanner in anything other than an advisory fashion and you’re toast. Pick up a pencil and they’ll write you a summons.

This is sensible national policy, as long as it recognizes – and accommodates – exceptional circumstances. To achieve this, you need firm rules that are applied consistently. That’s a special skill for which, prima facie, a strong case exists for urgent further remedial training.

According to the Department of Manpower, there were 85,453 registered foreign workers in Indonesia at the end of 2008, an increase of 11.4 per cent over 2007.

Blurred Indovision
HOW’S your TV picture? (The Diary’s is generally blank by the way, by choice.) But if you’re with Indovision and you’ve got the wobbles, well, we hear this is because the satellite is running out of power (gosh, who switched off the sun?) and is wobbling in its orbit. That’s Indovision’s story anyway. They say the satellite needs replacing. Hang on! We’ll just shin up there with a new one, then, shall we?

Indovision’s solution for wobbling subscribers to the screen-obscuring multi-logoed programming they provide is to occasionally realign their receiver dishes.

Still, at least Indovision customers still get a picture. Astro subscribers are a bit in the dark at present, owing to a long-running argument over whether the Malaysian operators are legally entitled to broadcast within Indonesia.

It makes buying your own free-to-air satellite receiver set a much better prospect.

Celebrities Earn a Bad Rap
IT is not often that your Diarist finds himself agreeing with the editorial line of the leftist British weekly journal New Statesman – although this excellent magazine is required reading for its clear thinking and elegant English, as well as for the philosophical points of difference it illuminates. But praise where praise is due is always a good rule, and so it is with last week’s edition, which carried a small editorial on the musical achievements of Eminem, the rap musician.

It drew attention to his latest opus, Relapse, and commended it for the artist’s decision to have a go at a host of celebrities on the album. Eminem, real name Marshall Bruce Mathers III or otherwise Mr Shady (clearly he is a confused gentleman), won applause for his efforts to “deflate the froth of a culture that has elevated fame, earned or unearned, transient or enduring, to a virtue above all others.” The New Statesman, being nannyish, did note that his presentation might be considered as on the crude side – though this is surely no surprise: he could hardly be a rap artist otherwise – but pointed out that others of a more civil bent are joining him in this worthy cause. British journalist Marina Hyde, who writes for the Guardian (another lefty of the print world), has written a book titled Celebrity: How Entertainers Took Over the World and Why We Need an Exit Strategy.

The New Statesman’s view deserves wide exposure. It asks: “Is it too much to hope that such a strategy is already, miraculously, falling into place? And that the legions of those whose empty fame lasts barely 15 seconds, never mind 15 minutes, are beginning to be consigned to the margins? It has just been announced that Maxim, a magazine which mirrored the grotesque materialism that spawned celebrity culture, is to close its print edition.”

It is not a joy to record the passing of any print product – the free market in ideas is both advanced and protected by print, after all – but we might make an exception for Maxim. Depriving the in-your-face of even one opportunity to repeat their crude imposition of themselves on others is surely worthwhile?

Fancy a Little Chilean?
YOU betcha. Gracias, eso sería muy agradable. The Diary is very partial to the wines of Chile, thank you very much. They are a habit happily acquired many years ago when the chills of a Chilean winter, on a lengthy South American holiday, made it common sense to obtain frequent warming infusions. Besides, the reds are very palatable indeed. We’re sure the whites are too, but The Diary is a red drinker.

We are thus pleased to report that the Chilean night at the Laguna Resort and Spa at Nusa Dua last Saturday (April 11) seems to have gone off very well indeed, despite the fact that some of guests mistook “resort chic” on the invitation to mean “come in yer scuffs”. Goodness, it’s precisely that unthinking acceptance of No-No Couture that helped drive The Diary into exile from Australia. The Aussies vie with the Brits as clanger-dressers. We noticed the other night, while enjoying the gnocchi gorgonzola at Un’s restaurant in Kuta, an old favourite, that a female person of British persuasion had apparently decided it was fine to dine out in the sort of tiny little bra top that might (if you were really, really lucky) briefly find a place in a bedroom warm-up act.

But we digress (we do that). At Laguna’s gourmet night, the subject of this item, it was a shame that the accomplished pianist was accompanied by a somewhat less tutored singer. And one other discordant note reached our ears. A guest who had gone to the trouble of advising the hotel of specific dietary requirements, and had been given assurances that this was in hand, was served the wrong meal.

Luckily for everyone it wasn’t Kevin “Air Rage” Rudd.

Run Out of Bread? You Twit
TWITTERY – or is that Tweetery? – continues to expand its influence. Hector is a convert, if only because the internet messaging system Twitter reveals the minutiae of life in the cyber age in all its ungrammatical glory and, since he loves being outraged by the outré and irritated by the imbecilic, he gets off on that.

He is tired of trekking up to his local “supermarket” – and what a misleading word that is, given that in Bali supermarkets are never super and rarely markets – to find there is not a loaf of bread to be had. (He long ago gave up on the Thou and the jug of wine.) Thus his gimlet eye was caught by a story on a London bakery that has started using Twitter to tell customers when the latest batches of bread hit the shelves.

The updates are sent using BakerTweet, a small, white bakery-proof wireless device that sends messages to subscribers on the Internet, such as: “Lovely loaves just out of the oven. Hurry.”

Not Good Enough
IT is 10 years since Indonesia’s imperial misadventure in East Timor ended in bloodshed after the historic referendum that helped bring into being the independent state of Timor Leste. What remains of Indonesia’s quarter century in charge of the former Portuguese colony – and by the way, we should never forget that the Portuguese themselves created the conditions that led to Indonesian occupation by cravenly abandoning the place in 1974 when they couldn’t be bothered any longer – is mainly of a monumental nature. The crumbling concrete statue in Dili that still exhorts citizens to be loyal to Pancasila – the Five Principles – is a case in point.

More poignantly, and importantly, in the suburb of Balide the Indonesian military cemetery lies forlorn and overgrown by weeds. That is a disgrace. It would take relatively little to maintain the cemetery as a place of honour for soldiers of Indonesia who died away from home while serving their nation. Ten years after Timor Leste at last joined the community of free nations, and with trade, educational and social links binding the country to Indonesia far more effectively and profitably than was ever the case during the occupation, this can be fixed easily. An agreement could be made with the Timor Leste government and funds provided for rehabilitation and maintenance of the cemetery. Military misadventure may be an embarrassment, but the dead from such events are never so. They deserve a proper resting place.

HECTOR'S BALI TIMES DIARY [for Apr. 10]

The Bali Times is at www.thebalitimes.com and on FACEBOOK

First it was Obama cookies, now it’s the Obama Pizza. Is there no end to Indonesian inventiveness where favourite national stepson Barack Obama is concerned? The latest dish, seen being promoted in Jakarta, is the idea of a pizza chain.

Relax, This Train’s Not
Going to Armageddon
PERHAPS it was inevitable, though it is nonetheless dispiriting, that the Back to Ground Zero nuts came out in force while the G20 meeting was being held in London. This fractious and informal TWT collective – of Thinkers, Winkers and Twinkers – has been emboldened by fantasies of a world without finance and proclaims the end of capitalism and a whole lot more besides.

They need to get a grip on themselves (no, not like that!) and consider the facts. These are not clement. The dereliction of duty by governments everywhere – and, memo TWT, it really is everywhere and not just in the financial driving seats of the west – has been astonishing. The failure of American regulation and the criminal conduct of leading financiers on Wall Street and elsewhere is a rich indictment of the practice of politics and abandonment of social responsibility in the Land of the Free – let alone the principles of governance – and will result in pain for everyone. The supine nature of the much vaunted European Union (a “political” entity without political clout; an “economic” entity without a definably cohesive economy but with a defective common currency) is a warning to all who espouse the alleged benefits of enmeshed collaboration. Equal blame accrues to leading Asian economies which kept producing ever increasing quantities of consumer goods that could be sold only if credit kept expanding willy-nilly.

But this is not the end of the world. What went wrong with the development of credit markets was not that doing so would never work (the theory put forward by some who like to pretend that lending money should not be viewed as being advanced at an interest rate against an actuarial risk), but that its development was largely left unchecked in America and government there left a regulatory vacuum which the stupid and the criminal were only too happy to fill. Of course we need better regulation (that is the sensible position put forward consistently by Australia, for example, the “western” outpost in this part of the world). Of course we need careful coordination of necessarily disparate national policies to achieve this. Of course the Americans must understand that if they propose to remain the world’s chief financial clearing house, then they actually need to make it work, or at least help to do so. (There are hopeful signs that the Obama administration does understand this.)

Governor Kevin M. Warsh of the U.S. Federal Reserve, in a speech on April 5, set out the history of financial panics rather well, and offered lengthy advice as to where we go from here. In essence he said the panic would end before the recession did. Well, it will need to. But what he’s saying is that the next boom is rather a long way off.

That there will be pain for us all, for an extended period, as we all work through the wreckage and rebuild, is inevitable. But we are not seeing the end of capitalism – any more than we saw the “end of history” when the Soviet empire collapsed 20 years ago – and the sooner we start being sensible about this, the better. The bubble that has now deconstructed leaving such a nasty mess is but the latest in a lengthy list of financial implosions. It may be the most complex, but that’s less a function of its stature than of the necessary complexities of modern existence. Time out, people!

A Rose by Any Other Name
ROSES – lovely blooms – have been in the news lately. Michelle Obama was presented with a bouquet of Hillary roses in the Netherlands on her recent visit with Barack in tow. They were named after Hillary Clinton of course – when she was First Lady.

We await the Michelle with keen anticipation. But The Diary’s favorite rose quote of all time comes from Eleanor Roosevelt (there’s another name in the news at the moment, courtesy of FDR, who it is claimed drove a stake through the Dracula heart of an earlier result of excess). Mrs. Roosevelt once memorably stated: “I had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalog: “No good in a bed, but fine against a wall.”

Stephen’s Really Cunning Plan
STEPHEN Fry, who surprised us all the other week by turning up at Ngurah Rai International Airport, was here with a BBC film crew (he left again on Sunday, by the way, and, we hear, had not a wink of sleep on his 14-hour Singapore-London flight thereafter, poor chap). He did all sorts of things. He talked to the turtles at Serangan Island, went to Temple (a Hindu temple as he pointed out to his friends on Twitter, some of whom apparently thought he was off to the synagogue), saw a puppet show (he Tweeted to his friends: “Wayang Kulit – sounds like a Geordie trying to break up a fight”); got dressed up in Balinese gear for a lark; and then disappeared eastward for more fun and jollity around Komodo.

The Diary, being a Black Adder addict, has a theory. Fry may officially have been here to film Komodo dragons for the BBC series “Last Chance to See”, on endangered animals, but we conclude that what was really under way was the visible portion of a Really Cunning Plan. Of course, Baldrick didn’t come along – well, not that we know of, but he would never travel with Lord Melchett anyway – and that puts a bit of a dampener on cunning plans, but nonetheless, we suspect plots were afoot.

So Here’s The Diary’s take: Black Adder fans will recall the Elizabethan episode in which Edmund Blackadder, the craven coward who nevertheless sometimes comes to the party in moments of stress, sailed off with Lord Percy (and Baldrick of course; someone had to do the thinking) and a legless sea captain, having been directed by Queenie to do something amazing, or else.

Eventually, they returned, not knowing where they had been (or where they had arrived, until someone looked out of a window and saw Southampton docks). They were minus the sea captain, who had gone into the pot somewhere on a cannibal island.

They went post-haste to London to see the Queen, where Percy demonstrated the funny angular stick they had picked up from somewhere along their route. Edmund explained that it came back if you threw it away. Percy threw it away. Much later in the episode it returned and knocked him flat. It was Europe’s first experience of the boomerang (though not, we fancy, one of those now made on Lombok for the export trade – wonder if they ever come back?).

We believe that Fry/Melchett was actually here at Queenie’s command – she probably told him in one of her fits of pique that if he didn’t do something useful instead of just mooching around being boringly bombastic she’d cut off his head – with the job of filling in some of those appalling gaps on the Europeans’ dreadfully deficient Medieval maps. You know, the ones with “Here Be Dragons” inscribed on inconveniently vacant space.

We reckon there’s a secret new Black Adder episode in the works. In this, Melchett will return from his own voyage of discovery with a map carrying additional detail, including from the mysterious islands east of Java. This portion of the map will carry an amended advisory: “Here Be Dragons ... REALLY!”

Remember: You read it here first.



It’s So Important to Spell
HORSES need spelling (as presidential contender for the Greater Indonesia Movement – Gerindra – and patrician horse and goat farmer, ex-general and ex-Suharto son-in-law Prabowo Subianto can tell us). People need to be able to spell too, even in junior school. Here’s a classic effort by a young fellow – sent to us by an avid reader of The Bali Times in Australia by the way – that shows exactly why.

The Media and Cannonball Kev
AUSTRALIA’S Prime Minister Kevin Rudd makes many rods for his own back. He’s not alone there of course. Being rude to an air force cabin attendant on his VIP plane – will prime ministerial flights henceforth be call-signed Air Rage One? – is one thing. Doing so petulantly because his preferred meal wasn’t available (out of Port Moresby, where a lot isn’t available) was just plain thick.

Similarly, throwing taxpayers’ money back at them as a recession corrective may be good politics (though the point is moot and the economics of it are plainly stupid). And being granted space on the outer edge of great events such as the G20 Save the World conference in London must be galling for a chap whose intellect and argument got the whole thing rolling in the first place.

However, it is hard to disagree with veteran Australian pundit Mungo MacCallum, who in the online scandal sheet Crikey this week observed rather tartly that the travails of St Kevin are now being written up by the country’s media with the same zeal that they showed in creating his secular sainthood.

Just Answer the Question
PREDICTABLY for such anarchic occasions, quiz nights have an Irish origin. We think they preceded Guinness, so that can’t be the reason. They owe their existence, and indeed the word quiz owes its existence, to James Daley and Richard Brinsley Sheridan, some warming drinks, and a Dublin pub called The Bleeding Horse, more than 200 years ago. We assume the pub’s name describes the situation of the unfortunate animal and is not just a blindingly obvious pejorative.

On Saturday (Apr. 18) you have a chance to engage in this fine old Irish tradition at the inaugural 2009 Ubud Writers and Readers Festival Quiz Night. There are some really great raffle prizes, some surprise guests (we suspect they will probably read things, it being that sort of ambience), a tapas menu – no need to speak Spanish though – and a chance to shine if your team of up to six can run the literary race faster than the others in the field. These will be fairly mainstream questions, we gather: for literary buffs, not literary profs.

Entry to the affray, at Indus Restaurant in Ubud (6.30 for 7pm start), is free. Raffle tickets cost Rp 50,000 and since the main prize is two nights at a plush resort, and others involve food, spas and books, it could be a good investment. Details are available from UWRF at info@ubudwritersfestival.com or phone (0361) 7808932.

Stella Is Just Beside Herself
STELLA is beside herself. (Well, she just thought she was until someone told her she’d walked past a mirror. Now that’s not something a girl would normally do, she tells us, with a giggle.) Her little galaxy is in ferment. An opportunity to drink lots and lots of lovely wines including bubbly is about to come upon her. And there’s a chance to be disgusting. Oh no, sorry, that’s degustation. It’s something to do with it not being finger food, she thinks. It’s all courtesy of a three-day course (Hector thinks three-day benders are much more fun) being held at the St Regis Resort and Spa at Nusa Dua from April 16-18.

From Stella’s breathless reporting of this upcoming opportunity to flash the bling and bat the eyelids at passing prospects, it should be such fun. There are two and half hours for lunch each day, for starters. And you get to find out all about what it takes to be a sommelier. That’s a long French word for someone who really knows their wine. Stella thinks she could be a sommelier – she has a soft spot for French, after all – especially since you get to taste all that lovely wine and then pretend to spit it out. How good is that!
What’s more, the whole bash ends up with a fabulous party. That’s the disgusting, sorry, degustation thingy, where you get to eat all sorts of lovely nibbles and show off even more of your bling and bat your eyelids at even more talent. Plus it’s a snip at only Rp 4,950,000. Goodness, even if you do grossly overpay your housemaid, that’s still only about seven months’ salary for the poor dear thing.

Stella is slightly concerned at one of the premium wines listed on the invitation, however. It’s described as a Devil’s Liar chardonnay from that smart little Margaret River wine growing area in Western Australia. Stella doesn’t like people who tell fibbies; well, not unless they’re teeny-weeny fibbies, or unless it’s herself.

It’s a shame it would never occur to her that the Devil, although of course he’s such a big liar, might actually be making his wine in his lair. Hector’s personally preferred fermentation of the grape isn’t listed, by the way, surely a significant oversight. The Misprint red is nicely robust, comes in a handy cardboard cask that doesn’t dribble away to nothing – bar residue – after a couple of quaffs, and goes well with any disgusting menu.

By the way, the Laguna Resort and Spa – St Regis’ partner in the Jamie Cullum Starwood reward points programme – has also gone into the wine business. It had a Chilean experience scheduled for Saturday (Apr. 11) complete with gourmet food (what else?) and just a snip at Rp 990,000 a pop.

HECTOR'S BALI TIMES DIARY [for Apr. 3]

The Bali Times is at www.thebalitimes.com


NO, it’s not Lord Melchett. And there’s not a Black Adder in sight. It’s Stephen Fry, British actor and comedian, snapped on arrival at Ngurah Rai International Airport last Saturday. He was in pursuit of other reptiles – Bali’s famous turtles – to capture on film.
PHOTO: NEIL HEMPSEY

A Comic Turn With
Our Fine Turtles
STEPHEN Fry, the British actor and comedian, has been filming turtles in Bali, from a temporary base in Sanur, where he arrived on Saturday last. Good for him. A lot of foreign visitors film turtles while they’re enjoying Bali’s famous opportunities for relaxation. Fry was doing so professionally and doubtless the commercial result will grace various television screens in due course. We do hope that while under water he forswore any of those Lord Melchett skits with which he peppered the fabulous Black Adder series. It would be a shame to put the turtles off their laying.

He was, we understand, somewhat disconsolate on Monday, after Cambridge lost yet another boat race to Oxford in their historic annual rowing meet on the River Thames in London at the weekend. It’s just a lot of rollocks, really, but fun. Your Diarist is an Oxford man, however, and was thus somewhat more chipper at the start of the week. It all went downhill from there, of course; the week, that is, but isn’t that just typical?

Fry Tweets, by the way: as in, he’s on Twitter. It’s something else Hector shares with him, albeit vicariously, having but only recently succumbed to the fad himself. Unusually, Fry also tweets in person, unlike other celebrities – Demi Moore among them, we understand from other twittering – who employ ghosts to scribble for them. Moore did star in the 1990 movie “Ghost”. Perhaps that’s where she got the idea. Or maybe it’s because she was born in Roswell, New Mexico, where all those scary early Cold War-era intergalactic aliens were discovered. But we digress.

A lesser known side of the incomparable Fry, who is 51 and thus judged (by some uppity young proto-adults) as too old to Tweet, is that he has been a manic-depressive for years. This aspect of his character – and his courageous fight against the condition – has just featured in a compelling two-part series on Australia Network, the Aussie satellite television service presented through the national broadcaster, the ABC, that is required viewing in Bali (and other places) for people who can’t cope with CNN, don’t want to be badgered by Bloomberg, and are bored by the Beeb.

Sultana Wars: Latest
WHILE in Sanur last Sunday – no, we were not catching up with Stephen Fry – a visit to The Pantry, the upmarket deli across the road from Hardy’s in fashionable Jalan Danau Tamblingan, brought forth the discovery of sultanas.

These were not purchased, however. The little packets were on sale for Rp 37, 000 (let’s just say that’s a very generous mark-up on retail prices at most other outlets, unless you’re in Ubud, where the market is even more captive) and moreover were labeled “per kilo”. This was queried, since the packets weighed in at around 250 grams. The explanation: So sorry, our machine can only label per kilo. That, to be polite, is bovine manure. Or if it is true, they should buy a better computer system and labeler. And at the prices they charge, they could afford both.

Vote 1 for Road Hog
AN interesting take on electioneering, Indonesian style: On the Kusamba bypass on Sunday, in a crowded little section of the highway (the usual cause: two yellow trucks in close convoy and occasionally tandem, struggling through clouds of black exhaust fumes up gentle inclines at 20kmh), chaos was caused and accidents nearly created by a PDI candidate’s plush people-mover and escort pick-up truck, when the people-mover set off its flashing roof lights and let’s-play-policemen siren and pushed past the traffic.

On the wrong side of the road, in the face of oncoming vehicles, and hotly pursued by its escort that looked as if it was manned by a party of pirates rushing off to a fortuitous and unexpected rape and pillage opportunity.

It may be that the van driver couldn’t see. The vehicle was so heavily plastered with PDI symbols and slogans that the windscreen – along with everything else, including the candidate if he was on board – was probably completely obscured. In other democracies, all this would be illegal: the bumf, the scary lights, and the get-out-of-the-way-we’re-important siren.

The mysterious ways of Indonesian voting patterns have long shone a strange light on politics in the archipelago. But in most ballot boxes, that sort of bugger off, I’m the boss behavior would lose you votes, not gain them.


PHOTO: PETER DUNCAN
Speaking of Bumf
IT’S not only in Bali that election material is blotting out sections of the landscape – and indeed in several places totally obscuring it. On Lombok next door – next rock to the right, you might say – they’re also doing things in style. As in, lack of style. Here’s a photo snapped by a Lombok correspondent anxious to alert the world to the polluting potential of legislative contests. The display is matched by many in Bali, and doubtless elsewhere, but it’s good to see that we’re not alone in our predicament and that the electoral plague is upon us all. Sharing a great distemper provides some kind of consolation.

Incidentally, as campaigning peaks ahead of the elections on April 9, party flags are spreading like an uncontrolled infestation of noxious weeds. One chap we know, who had been away from home for four days, was driving back to his Des Res on the Bukit this week and almost got lost at his local this-is-an-intersection-let’s-ignore-the-traffic-lights fun spot. He says he couldn’t see it for the forest of flags that had sprouted there since he left.

My Emails are Read!
NEWS that the Chinese are spying on everyone’s emails – well, and their websites and all the other guff that goes around – is actually cheering intelligence. It means that someone is reading our emails and may even be reacting to them. This can only be a good thing. It leaves us feeling less lonely for a start; and certainly much less ignored. And there’s an additional bonus. It might finally convince the Chinese that absolutely no one is a threat to them in any way at all other than in terms of cyber-babble overload.

There might be a further benefit. Perhaps Beijing’s gigabyte boffins can tell The Diary why its private email addresses have been penetrated by people who appear to have formed the wholly erroneous view that we are even remotely interested in things dumb blondes allegedly do with animals (or in dumb blondes for that matter).

Governments are always alarmed at allegations of spying, of course, cyber or otherwise. It’s a great chance to appear important. And they must “be” something, we guess. Alarmed is at least indicative of a greater application to duty than silence. We note that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Jakarta bravely claims its computer network is safe from hackers. Such touching faith deserves applause, in much the same way as General Custer won praise from the foolhardy for rejecting those Gatling guns when he was going off to get butchered by Crazy Horse.

For our part, we are sure that the Chinese, if they really are spying on governments and private organizations in 103countries, including Indonesia, as the honest toilers at the Internet based research group Information Warfare Monitor assert, will have found a Bahasa speaker or two to sort out the terigu from the ampas gergaji (that’s the wheat from the chaff, except Bahasa doesn’t really do chaff in the natural product sense; ampas gergaji is sawdust).

According to foreign ministry spokesman Teuku Faizasyah, however, the ministry’s official network is designed to quickly monitor intrusions. Presumably, if an intrusion is monitored, all sorts of people in the ministry’s employ then run around shouting “Intruder! Intruder!” Well, it would liven up the lunch break.

It is in fact very doubtful that any Indonesian government IT system is as secure as is claimed. A Culture and Tourism Ministry official recently told The Bali Times to email him on his Yahoo address since the ministry email system, like its IT network, was never operational. On the other hand, that’s a protective measure in itself. After all, if it’s mati (dead), it won’t be telling any tales at all.

Travel Warning
HERE’S something we’ve seen around recently. It’s a really useful sticker that puts the Aussie travel warning in its proper perspective. It was on the back of a motorcyclist’s helmet. It showed a map of Indonesia with “Travel Warning” above it and “Dangerously Beautiful” underneath.

Perhaps Stephen Smith, who as Australia’s Foreign Minister has ultimate political responsibility for his country’s continued travel advisory suggesting Australians, unlike Americans and Canadians, still need to reconsider their need to travel here, should have a look at it.

Maybe he could arrange for it to be issued to all the official travelers he keeps sending here, apparently after reading and rejecting his own advice.

Stella’s All-A-Fluster
HAVING introduced our new ephemeral contributor Stella Kloster to you last week, we didn’t expect to hear from her again quite so soon. Her motto is Ennui Forever. But she got back on to us this week, all of a fluster over the fact that those beastly people at The Onion (that essential non-dietary cerebral supplement obtainable on the web at www.theonion.com) have listed the six Most Popular Barbies. In a horrendous oversight, the list does not include Media Star Barbie.

But putting aside such pettiness, she says, she believes readers of The Diary should know that in order of precedence – Stella goes weak at the knees just at the mention of the word – the most popular Barbies are: High Holidays Barbie (30 per cent of the vote – it’s so good to see Barbie still has reality firmly in her sights); Former Child Star Barbie (25 per cent – well, a girl’s gotta dream); Obsessive-Compulsive Outfit-Changing Barbie (15 per cent – but décolleté is just so difficult, isn’t it?); Whatever Responsible View of Women Currently Exists Barbie (11 per cent); Reece Witherspoon (10 per cent); and Employable Barbie (9 per cent – but we think this voting figure has been grossly inflated).

The Diary’s most popular Barbie comes with a Bintang, steak, sausages and a nice salad, by the way. Oh, and onion rings.

THE BALI TIMES DIARY (for Mar. 27)

The Bali Times is at www.thebalitimes.com

Our Week for the Sounds of Silence
BALI offers many things to a tired and jaded world. One of these is Nyepi, the annual Hindu “Silent Day” when everything shuts up. Even the airport closes down, disrupting schedules everywhere. The day is designed for Hindu reflection and also to persuade bad spirits that since there is obviously no one on Bali, they should take themselves off elsewhere and find other people to bother.

This is a lovely idea, if somewhat impractical in terms of today’s world. But Bali’s charm lies in its affection for the spiritual and its happy knack of keeping itself fairly well informed about the world while not being overly desirous of actually joining it.

Nyepi this year was on Thursday (March 26). The “silence” runs from 6am to 6am next day. During this 24-hour period the only people about are the Pecalang, the neighbourhood police, who will leap at the chance to fine you fiercely if you’re caught with a light on, or entertaining yourself in any visible or audible way. The tradition varies – there’s one village in the rural area of Tabanan regency The Diary knows of where Nyepi simply means you stay within the village limits; and there may be others who have adopted this more liberal interpretation of what observance of the day demands – but generally speaking, anywhere in Bali is a no-go zone that day.

For tourists and most of the expatriate community, the Nyepi options are to stay in your hotel (if a tourist) or move into one (if a resident expatriate); or to escape to Lombok, where Nyepi is observed by members of the local Hindu minority only within their own homes. In Bali, designated tourist hotels are allowed to keep minimal lighting and services going for their guests. Some beachfront hotels nowadays even let guests use their bit of beach. The Diary would feel uncomfortable doing so, for fear of making a splash: but much less so – indeed not at all – in enjoying the minimalist service and facilities of a chosen establishment. The Diary traditionally favours Pondok Bambu at Candi Dasa. On a clear Nyepi night you can see the lights of Lombok. And nowadays you can use the wireless internet there too. If you can’t be on the street, at least you can be on line.

It’s nice of the bad spirits to agree not to notice the few lights that are on in Bali over Nyepi, however. It reminds Hector of his military days, when on numerous occasions he was able to order his driver to drive over bridges notionally destroyed by enemy action because, on that day’s mission, he had those lovely “OOE” – “Out of Exercise” – decals on the vehicle.


A Significant Footnote

AUSTRALIAN state elections are not normally things that excite much comment (often not even within the state concerned). Parochial politics is best left the parish pump. But last weekend in Queensland, a Significant Footnote in History occurred: Australia elected its first ever female head of government.

Labor, the party of Prime Minister Kevin Rudd who is also from Queensland but often looks and sounds as if he’s from Planet Wonk, was running for a fifth term in office. Anna Bligh, as Premier, had taken over mid-term from veteran Peter Beattie – he moved to the plum job of Queensland trade commissioner in Los Angeles – and was generally thought to be facing a tough task, even though her party had a more than comfortable majority in the state assembly.

It turned out it wasn’t a time for change after all, the pitch put forward by the Liberal National Party opposition. Labor lost a few seats, but remained comfortably in power. And the lady in red (seen in the photo having her triumph in the tally room on Saturday night) made history as the first woman in Australia to win election as a premier in her own right.

This was an event not before time – long delayed, in fact. Our Lombok mate Peter Duncan, someone else with a lengthy interest in Australian politics, noted on his Facebook that Bligh’s win proved that women are no longer unelectable as leaders in the great south land. There have been three female state premiers – Bligh among them – who got their jobs on succession. Neither of the others – Carmen Lawrence in Western Australia and Joan Kirner in Victoria – subsequently won elections.

The election was significant for few other reasons. But one pleasant outcome was the failure of Pauline Hanson – now thankfully just a faint echo of the great distemper of her recent past and reduced, we hear, to featuring her high heeled shoes as an electoral come-on – to win a rural seat.

One Hat, One (Dead?) Rabbit?
HOW very interesting it is that the US$600 million Lombok tourism development project that last week was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, not visibly breathing, has been locally declared “not yet dead”. Tidak sudah mati? Well we hope so.

According to “high-ranking Indonesian officials” – doubtless that’s code for the embarrassed crew of senior politicians and bureaucrats now running around trying to find the resuscitation equipment – they got the three month extension they needed to complete their homework (blast that dog, it always eats it!) and everything’s still in working order.

We’ll see. It would be great if the project actually did reach fruition. But the fact that the Dubai developer EMAAR has shut its Jakarta office and will administer its Lombok affairs from the UAE does not, on the face of things, look entirely positive. This is particularly so given the deep impact of the global economic crisis on Dubai.

Let’s all hope that rabbit is indeed alive when it’s pulled from the hat down the track.

It’s Tough Saying G’Day
KEVIN Rudd, who by now surely needs no introduction to the worldwide fan club he has attracted since shifting from leafy Norman Park in subtropical Brisbane to the well-heated ambience of The Lodge in frosty Canberra, has been off talking to The Bam. Well, we hope so. He so often talks at you.

In Australia, where RDS (relevance deprivation syndrome) is itself a constant issue, such that they like to think that all manner of things are “an issue”, there was much pre-trip speculation about whether Prime Minister Rudd would talk straight with the new man in the White House. He said he would (of course). But we wondered what the alternatives were. Could he perhaps be thinking of talking discursively? Or elliptically? (That’s fun.) Or on a nudge-nudge, wink-wink basis? Something like: “I know this great pole-dancing place in New York. Fancy some action?”

The real issue for serious world-watchers, and observers of the Land of Oz, where things are usually wizard but aren’t so great just at the present, because of Bernie Madoff and John Howard if you believe Mr. Rudd, is whether President Obama’s renowned language skills extend to understanding Strine, the lingo in the land down under. Actually, it’s easy. Just swallow all the consonants and insert a glottal stop or two, an’ she’ll be roit, mite. We’re sure The Bam, who after all can ask for nasi goreng in passable Bahasa and be perfectly pleasant in several other languages as long as you don’t ask him what he’s going to do about Iran, will have found no trouble in translating Kevvie’s happy “G’Day.”

This issue reminds The Diary of a lovely tale of World War I vintage – it’s probably apocryphal, but who cares – concerning a new Australian battalion moved up to the battle line on the Western Front. The local British blimp in charge thought he’d better go along and give the colonials a bit of a boost with a stirring speech. “Have you come here to die?” he asked, with blimpish aplomb. A voice from the ranks shot back: “Nah. We come ‘ere yesterdie.”

A Meet and Greet with a Difference
NEW Australian Consul-General Lex Bartlem and his boss, Ambassador Bill Farmer, put on a nice little do at the consulate in Denpasar last Friday evening. A real treat was the Australian wine and the catering by The Conrad.

The Diary was present and ran into two old friends – Bartlem himself, from days long ago in Queensland, and another mate, Wayan, who was in charge of Conrad’s catering that night. What a splendid affair.

It doubled as a meet-and-greet and as an occasion to publicly honor two Indonesian members of the Australian Alumni, people who have made a real difference in our community. Dr I Made Nitis and Ms Fanina Yulianthi were recognized with the presentation of certificates as outstanding individuals.

Ambassador Farmer said: “I am delighted to present these awards to two remarkable people who are making significant contributions to the development of Indonesia and to the strong people-to-people links between our two countries.” Hear, Hear to that.

Dr Nitis received the Distinguished Alumni Award for his lifelong achievements and contribution to land farming with innovative research in Bali and eastern Indonesia. His close links with Australia include his work with the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research.

Ms Yulianthi was awarded the Inspirational Alumni Award for her outstanding work with small businesses in Indonesia who strive to enter and operate in the international arena. Ms Yulianthi helps businesses to develop strong networks and conducts entrepreneurship training in remote areas to improve human resources.

Australian Alumni Award ceremonies also took place in Jakarta last month to recognise other outstanding Indonesians who have worked tirelessly in their community or made lifelong achievements and contributions to Indonesia. Nominations for the awards are made by alumni through the Australian Alumni Network, Ozmate, and the finalists are decided by an independent judging panel made up of alumni.

Stella Kloster Joins our Team

THE Diary has a new friend. She is Stella Kloster, of Villa Bolly, Jalan Beling, Banyakvankas (it’s that new area in the green belt just a cork-pop from all the action, she tells us). Stella is a star in her own firmament. This galactic über-zeitgeist is essential in these difficult times, especially when all you’ve got to play with is monopoly money (preferably someone else’s). She’s friends with everyone who has more bling than she does, or more bolly. She’s seen at the scene, wherever that is. Or, indeed, whatever that is. And if she looks a little like Barbie, well, that’s just because. That hair: Fake. That tan: Bottle. That body: Manufactured. That smile: Plastic.

But Stella just loves to yak and has agreed to keep Hector informed of what’s going down in her little bling and bolly world, that bit of Bali she and her friends live in that is wholly unconnected with the actual island, its culture and its ethos. It will be essential reading. Watch for her bubbly reports, from time to time, as the fancy takes her, in future editions of The Diary.

HECTOR'S BALI TIMES DIARY [for Mar. 20]

The Bali Times is at www.thebalitimes.com


PHOTO: ABC ONLINE/AAP

HE’S GOT WHAT IT TAKES: Australia’s Environment Minister, former Midnight Oil front-man Peter Garrett, swallows the mike at last weekend’s big Australian rock concert to raise money for the country’s bushfire and flood victims. The Melbourne concert – there was one in Sydney too, held simultaneously – had been hit by torrential rain, but this stopped for Garrett’s performance. No word on whether he also sang the Australian national anthem, though it would have been appropriate: It’s all about a land of drought and flooding rains...

Wanted: An Act to Get Together
THE saddest comment so far in the collapse of the US$600 million tourism development project on Lombok – from which Dubai’s state-owned developer in chief, Emaar, withdrew last week – comes from Sumaryanto Widayatin, a special advisor to the Public Works Ministry, who blamed unprofessionalism for the tangled negotiations.
“I think it’s because the Ministry of Finance was worried about selling the land cheaply to Emaar,” he said, noting that every large project in Indonesia attracted officials who had their hands out. He added this stinging question: “Where in Indonesia do we not have the problem of corruption?”

Emaar’s Indonesian operation is said to have closed its Jakarta office. The Jakarta Globe newspaper reported the corporation’s Indonesian human resources manager, Elly Savitri, as saying: “Emaar has pulled out of its operations in Indonesia because the government cannot comply with the terms of the agreement with our joint venture company. There have been too many delays on the realization of the project and the company just could not wait any more.”

Here is an object lesson in just how important it is for Indonesian officialdom to get its act together. The first task is to sort out jurisdictional issues. Big overseas developers want to talk to one principal – not a mendicant collective of competing minor administrators as is mandated under the fire-and-forget method of regionalism employed here for political reasons. If they can’t get a straight answer – or at the very least, one centralized bribe point – they’ll take their money elsewhere.

Cancellation of the project is an enormous setback for Lombok and a black mark against Indonesia. The project was announced with a fanfare – Indonesia does fanfares very well – by Vice President Jusuf Kalla in May 2007. Emaar has since spent US$4.2 million on consultancy fees on master plans. That’s a drop in the bucket, of course, but it’s still money down the drain. Kalla is reported to have tried to shut the stable door after the horse had bolted – another Indonesian key performance indicator, sadly – by calling a meeting of ministries on Wednesday this week in a bid to save the project.

Equally sourly, there is a Bali connection (or perhaps that should read “disconnection”). The joint venture was between Emaar and the state-owned Bali Tourism Development Corporation. It envisioned development of 1,200 hectares along seven kilometres of natural beachfront that would have transformed Lombok’s famed Kuta and Tanjung An Indian Ocean beaches over the next 12 years into a world-class resort and residential community consisting of thousands of luxury villas, eight hotels and two 18-hole golf courses.

Elly said the agreement stipulated that the government would provide a detailed master plan by last November to support infrastructure including an international airport, an access road to the property and finalizations of land acquisitions. The finalizations, however, never materialized.

A raft of government agencies failed to complete their part of the bargain and asked for an extension until this month. When Indonesian officials asked for another extension until June, Emaar called off its investment.

It should be noted that the decision came at an opportune moment for Emaar. Dubai is in a mess as a result of the global economic crisis and Emaar’s 2008 profit, announced last month, was 15 per cent down on the previous year. But that’s not an excuse for local failure. It should be instructive for the Indonesian side and the people of Lombok who now have no jobs to look forward to. If that act had been got together earlier, foreclosure by Emaar might not have been an option.

We’re Very Well Read
ON to happier things. The conventional wisdom from the cyber side of the information industry is that newspapers are either dead or dying. That’s not the case. The New York Times may have massive debts (US$1 billion at the latest call and US$50 million in repayments due in November) and “big media” everywhere may be under pressure, but the nimble minded (like The Bali Times) not only go with the flow but build on that advantage. For example, our website records a quarter of a million hits every month (the number is growing) and much of this interest comes from foreign places. We’ve even got our own Facebook page to make it easy for readers to keep in touch. You can find it on The Bali Times website or through Facebook.

We look forward to seeing you there.

Elsewhere in this week’s paper is a selection of comments we’ve received on our feedback site. They’re worth reading, both as an example of what interests our wider readership and as a pointer to the authorities over what needs to be done with, for example, filthy beaches. Hector’s pick of the week is more down market (he has a curious mind). He likes the comment posted by Edi, responding to a story reporting that police had broken up a prostitution ring (that particular one was in Sanur, which has always seemed to your Diarist to be somewhere rather less than a den of iniquity): “No problem! There’s 200 others still going.”

Well, as they say, it’s a business doing pleasure with you. You just can’t beat private enterprise.


Another Ramsay Brush with the Law
HERE in Bali we are (mostly, unless we tune into vacuous TV shows) mercifully saved the painful business of watching and listening to celebrity chefs, such as for example Britain’s Gordon [expletive deleted] Ramsay. We did host his younger brother Ron in 2007 (photo), when he spent 10 months as a guest of the state in Kerobokan – Hi Schapelle! How’s it going? – after being found in possession of 100 grams of heroin.

No doubt like many miscreants here – Hi again Schapelle – he forgot he had the stuff on him, or had forgotten it’s actually illegal to possess drugs. Funny old world, isn’t it? Why can’t the law just apply to everyone other than me?

This time however it’s Brother Gordon who’s in trouble, though thankfully not here. He’s in court in Britain over unpaid debts said to flow partly from the sharp dive in discretionary spending forced upon his customers by the embarrassingly inclement financial climate. Well, that and the cuisine apparently. François Simon, the feared food critic of the French national newspaper Le Figaro, did rather memorably describe Ramsay’s Trianon restaurant (at Versailles, where haut couture goes for couture) as “boring, pompous and very expensive.” He added: “Quite frankly, if I go to Versailles, I’d prefer to go to a local bistro.” Expletive deleted.

Ramsay is busy disposing of some of his signature restaurants. It’s a sign of the times. Yesterday caviar and foie gras; today corned beef and lumpit pudding.

Well, What an Idea!
WHEN you’re out driving on Bali’s roads, you see amazing things. A wobbly motorbike is probably not wobbling because the rider can’t ride – although, of course, the rider can’t actually ride – but because he or she is busy texting on a mobile phone. Similarly a more than usually wayward car will likely have a driver similarly engaged.

What then would our police authorities make of a new blitz on phone-driving in New York, where police have just issued a whopping 9,016 tickets during a 24-hour crackdown on phoning-while-driving. The normal daily tally is around 500, which at US$120 a pop creates useful revenue for the city. (It does all go into official coffers there, of course, another vital difference.)

New York’s taxi drivers are held to an even higher standard. They can receive a US$200 summons from the Taxi and Limousine Commission for using even a hands-free phone while driving.

More on Sultanas
LAST week’s little bleat about sultanas – as in absence of – needs to be put into perspective: an opportunistic wander through the new Casa delicatessen at Seminyak (it was on the way to afternoon tea at The Legian) brought forth a packet of same that retailed at Rp 22,000. They are being doled out on a strict ration basis by the lovely Ungasan lass who looks after Hector’s breakfasts.

The item did bring forth an inquiry from an Ubud reader, who tells us the Bintang supermarket there sells them at Rp 52,000 a pop. Transport costs over the 45 kilometres from Sultana Central to Ubud must be amazing.

Another Old Bird Going Strong
WE heard this week some cheerful news of Pinky the Cockatoo, the bright bird who entertained British wartime leader Winston Churchill during his long sojourn in Florida after the war and his rejection at the polls by the British people.

Pinky is now 67 (she has three years on Hector), but is still entertaining the crowds at the bird sanctuary, since renamed. The operators have no plans to retire this avian veteran, who may live to be 100, like many clean-living cockatoos, and say one reason for her extreme good health is the fact that she rides a bicycle every morning. (Hector: Hrrmph!)

It was while he was taking his electorally enforced sabbatical in America that Churchill wrote and gave his famous “Iron Curtain” speech at the beginning of the Cold War. It would not surprise us to hear that Pinky had a hand in that too.

It Must be Those Lion Ayes
PERHAPS it was just for PR? The Indonesian aviation authorities last week ordered Lion Air’s MD-90 twin jet aircraft to stay on the ground following a series of mishaps. It’s embarrassing when you’re trying to convince the Europeans to lift their ban on Indonesian airlines flying in European airspace, after all.

But a Diary spy reports seeing two rear-engine twin-jets that looked suspiciously like MD-90s – operated only by Lion in Indonesia – in the air near Ngurah Rai International Airport over the weekend.

HECTOR'S BALI TIMES DIARY [for Mar. 13]

The Bali Times is at www.thebalitimes.com

WHAT’S THIS? Had someone forgotten to brief the US Secretary of State on what she might be required to eat at that big Brussels NATO banquet last week? British Foreign Secretary David Miliband (on Clinton’s right) and his Turkish counterpart don’t seem worried though. (Photo AFP/Getty Images)

The War of Hector’s Sultanas
HISTORY buffs among the Diary’s readership will know all about the War of Jenkins’ Ear. It was an unnecessary little 18th century spat between the British and the Spanish with the ostensible cause being the barbarous fate of the aural equipment of a British sea captain whose ship was boarded by Spanish coastguards and whose ear was then sliced off.

A far greater threat to peace exists in the continued inexplicable absence of sultanas on Bali, at least anywhere Hector can find them. The poor fellow has been reduced to putting dried raisins in his morning oatmeal. It’s just not the same.

We know, of course, that the world is about to fall in a screaming heap. Or at least, that’s what we’re being told by all those guys who were on road traffic duty and claim they didn’t see or hear the bus until it ran them over. Should we, necessarily, feel that it is safe to believe them now they claim they can both see and hear and make elementary deductions?

We know that the laws of Indonesian supply and demand are not really laws at all, but simply a theory (though even that is questionable, since a theory must possess some form and result from cerebral activity). But exactly what is so difficult about organizing a regular resupply, in line with retail demand, of sultanas for the few of us here who actually eat the things? It’s not as if Lotus and all those other importers have to charter fleets of supersized freighters to bring them in. It’s just a few packets, guys, on a regular basis, in accordance with your stock ordering processes.

You do have a stock ordering process? It does work on an inventory basis? It factors in supply time? Someone notices when the pile’s getting a bit low?

No, didn’t think so.

Beam Me Up, Scotto!
SCOTLAND, ancestral home of the ancient McSquawky clan of which your Diarist is a proud member, has always been left off the map when it comes to its central role in world affairs. And rugby, but we won’t go there.

It was thus with great interest that we spotted, the other day, a report citing a Spanish historian’s view that Christopher Columbus was not who we think he was. He was in fact Pedro Scotto, scion of a family of Genovese shopkeepers whose ancestral roots were in Scotland.

According to Alfonso Ensenat de Villalonga (who, poor fellow, clearly does not have Scottish antecedents, at least on the paternal side), Scotto wished to hide his origins and stole his now popularized name from a pirate when he sailed off into the sunset in 1492 to find Cipango (Japan) and ran into America instead. He was apparently blond with blue eyes. Nothing is said about whether he wore a kilt, but then that’s somewhere else you wouldn’t want to go.

It may all just be stale porridge, of course, and we should not forget that the single solo effort at colonizing that the Scots made was their spectacularly unsuccessful attempt to take the benefits of an oatmeal diet to the Spanish and Amerindians at Darien in modern day Panama. Those of the colonists who didn’t die of the pox (or the porridge) quickly breathed their last from Spanish antipathy or yellow fever.

But there are numerous rivers and other geographical entities, several cities, one Canadian province and even one country in the Americas which could find themselves seriously embarrassed if as a result of historical revisionism they need to change their names.

Scotto, Ohio, doesn’t have quite the same ring – or the literary or cinematic appeal for that matter – as Columbus. Would you rush out to buy a book titled Goodbye Scotto? Or bother seeing the movie? And what about Washington, seat of Good King Barack? It would look a little odd as Washington DS. Some unkind souls might even want to make that D a B.

The Bam’s Cookies Crumble

AT the risk of turning this week’s Diary into a solely culinary feast, we must mention one more consumable that’s under fire. It’s a gimmicky snack bearing a caricature of President Barack Obama making a peace sign (always good to remember to get the fingers the right way round). The Indonesian Consumer Foundation wants them banned because they are defamatory (do they taste any good?) and, since they come with a small plastic object loosely labelled a toy, because children might incautiously eat them.

“Obamas” first hit the streets in Bandung. They sell for Rp 500 a pack.

Trying to Beat a Raw Deal
LION Air, the Indonesian budget carrier, is selling a one-way trip from Singapore to Bali for only US$5.80 for travel between Jun. 1 and Sept. 30, according to its website. What they don’t tell you is that a whole host of “fees” is added to your transaction that rather dramatically increases the price.

But that’s not the point. What is the point is that Asian low-cost airlines are offering dirt-cheap tickets to boost travel during the northern hemisphere summer holidays amid the global economic downturn. In short, it is desperation time.

They’re all at it. Singapore-based Tiger Airways, which flies to destinations in Southeast Asia, Australia and China, announced summer fares starting at about US$16 including taxes. The carrier, which is 49 per cent owned by Singapore Airlines, said it would offer its “biggest ever network of seats” and was adding new destinations for its summer schedule from Mar. 29 to Oct. 24. Jetstar Asia, the Qantas even-less-service affiliate that also flies out of Singapore, has extended to Aug. 16 a promotion to beat the cheapest price offered by rivals. Malaysian budget airline AirAsia’s “take me away” promotion offers among other deals a one-way flight from Singapore to Bangkok from US$43 dollars, inclusive of taxes, for travel from Mar. 23 to Sept. 11. (A return flight to Bangkok on Singapore Airlines costs US$337.) AirAsia is also offering a number of tickets starting from US26c for travel within Malaysia.

Good deals, of course, for anyone who can spare the time. But however you dress them up, they’re desperation deals.

Come On! Get Offended!

IT SEEMS the trend towards being gratuitously offended by others who do not share your beliefs or moral or social precepts – something at which Islamic activists have become very good in recent years – has spread to the normally quiescent world of Buddhism.

Surely it’s calmer to think of Karma? But apparently not, since Buddhists in Jakarta have demonstrated against the Buddha Bar there (photo). It’s one of a number worldwide: The Diary vaguely remembers a riotous night at the original one in Paris many, many hangovers ago. They want the Jakarta outlet closed.

It’s quite crass, of course, like a lot of places where wannabes gather to primp and preen and deconstruct decorum. Like all its copies around the world it has a statue of The Buddha that hovers over its big-spending customers. It may be that this presence exerts some moral force on them not to duck out the back door when they get the bill. That is surely a good thing.

But crass or not, it’s harmless. It’s also elective. If you don’t like the concept (or the prices) you can decide not to go there. The Jakarta outfit, which apparently is owned by daughters of former president Megawati Sukarnoputri and former Jakarta governor Sutiyoso, attracts clientele from the city’s Muslim majority. Not unreasonably, since they are reasonable people, these customers seem to have no particular problem partying in their Jilbabs under the watchful eye of an image of someone else’s god.

We’ll just have to hope the self-appointed Battlers for Buddha in Jakarta don’t hear about Bali, where the image of The Buddha is widely used for commercial purposes by, among many others, the pricey Bali Buddha health food stores at Ubud and Kerobokan and Buddha’s Belly restaurant on Sunset Road at Kuta.

It Could be Worse
THE Diary likes to read David Rothkopf, who blogs at foreignpolicy.com. He is always good for a giggle. In a lengthy post at the weekend on the list of woes facing the world and the uncoordinated response to them currently in vogue, and specifically the amazing capacity of the American media to miss the point of the stories it is covering, he added this little gem:

Similarly, Britney Spears relaunches her career with her ‘Circus’ tour, opening in Louisiana. The press focuses on the fact that the entire extravaganza is lip-synced. But it could be worse. It might not have been lip-synced. And it could have been in a town closer to where you live.

What Twit had THAT Bright Idea?
WHILE on the subject of twittery, we were interested to see the other days that Twitter cofounder and CEO Ev Williams was part of the group-think gabfest by “young business leaders” on the economic crisis gathered at the White House at the request of President Obama.

Williams – Ev, as he likes to be known in the chummy first-name world of young bizwizardry – noted on his Twitter: “[This] must mean they're really out of ideas.” His advice on how to turn a profit in America would have been invaluable. With six million members and 700 percent-plus growth, Twitter makes no money in the U.S.

Happy Birthday to Us
THE Bali Times is four years old today. So we’ll forget all about how Friday the 13th is supposed to be unlucky because that’s the day a more seriously conflicted than usual Medieval Pope rounded up and tortured the crusading Knights Templar, who had deeply offended the Church by making all the money, and we’ll have a party instead. The Diary is much younger, having been with you only since the middle of last year. But it plans to be around for a little while too. Unless the sultana drought turns out to be permanent, that is.