Funny Embarrassing Bali Stories

[Norm]

:lol: Just thought I would try to bring a little humour to the forum and embarrass myself at the same time.

Our first trip to Bali was as a single day stop-over on the way to our daughters wedding in Timor. As we collected our bags from the airport carosel (how do you spell carousel?) these guys grabbed our bags then and started to take off. I chased and grabbed an arm when they stopped at a money changers both, a distance of just a few meters/metres/yards (depending on where you are from). Then ensued a shouting match, with mainly me shouting at them. It appears that a group of five Porters had "assisted" me with my two bags. Some guy in uniform tried to quiet the melee and told me I had to pay up. Since I am very law abiding I gave the nearest one five aussie dollars, but they demanded the same for each of the five of them, for two cases only. I stood my ground and refused. Grabbing both bags I hurriedly went outside, followed by these gesticulating porters, duly followed by the wife.

I asked this guy if there was left luggage office and he took me there. After checking the bags the same guy asked if we needed a lift. I said 'great if you are going to Kuta Square"; he said he was. When we got to his car it was a taxi. Oh Oh! I smelled a scam. Having read the Lonely Planet I said "How much?" He gave me a figure and knowing all about bartering :wink: I started hammering him down. All the while the wife kept trying to interupt, but unsuccessfully. We settled on a price. The short drive to Kuta was silent; wife grim faced; me feeling proud of my bartering skills.

Got out and paid him then wife let go. She had seen the notice board at the airport advising that a reasonable fare to Kuta was I think 20,000Rp. Meanwhile I have "negotiated" a price down from his 100,000Rp to my 80,000Rp. What skill! :shock:

As all you people would realise the total cost was only some $11-$12 Au but it was the let down of feeling I had done so well, then realising I had been ripped off.

to be continued:

 

[Norm]

Part 2

Not humorous - but strange

We met with daughter and friends at Denpasar airport for flight to Kupang and all 10 of us checked in at the same time. On the plane 8 of us were seated at the very back of the plane then there were a few empty rows of seats, then all the front section was full. A big gap between us and the locals. Except that Daughter and Son-in-law - with Indonesian names!!! - were sitting with the locals.

No-one noticed, but me, and when I commented they all thought I was paranoid, which is fair enogh.

BUT exactly the same thing happened on the return flight. :roll:

But wait! There's more to follow

 

[Guest]

Norm,
The porters will do that to you if you are not quick. You paid the taxi driver a rediculous amount of money for a ride to Kuta. Those kinds of things are bound to happen in a country like Indonesia. If were in certain countries in Africa (I am not naming names) you would be so lucky because your chances of getting in a non registered taxi and not getting either ripped off or mugged would have been very slim. You were lucky that you were in a safe part of Indonesia like Bali and not in Nigeria or Angola. You and your wife sure would have been taken for the ride of your life. Shite happens mate!

 

[Roy]

Given my awesome skills at being able to put my foot deep in my mouth, I have more than any man’s fair share of embarrassing and funny moments acquired during my life here in Bali.

A notable one also comes from my first trip to Bali as a tourist. Prior to my arrival, I had done a little reading up on proper greetings...just the basic stuff like giving an Om with your hands folded, Om Swastiastu, etc.

Anyway, shortly after my arrival, I was introduced to a gorgeous young Balinese lady whose name was Ketut. Most all forum readers are aware that for Sudra (or common) caste Balinese, their names generally begin by designations of their gender, “I” for male, “Ni” for female, followed by another name which designates the order of their birth, Wayan, first or fifth, Made, second or sixth, Nyoman, third or seventh, and Ketut, fourth or eighth, repeating as necessary for large families.

Wanting to make a good impression on this gorgeous young lady, I folded my hands, bowed slightly and pronounced, “Om Swastiastu, very nice to meet you Kentut.”

Kentut, as I quickly learned, is Indonesian for fart...thus my attempt to impress became, as Shakespeare would say, a casualty of “the best laid plans of mice and men.”

 

[Guest]

hahaha... That is classic! Im sure you impressed her with that one roy. What was the look on her face? Thats classic though. Bravo!

 

[Roy]

Another funny story also involves Balinese names. This story also involves three distinct cultures. In Bali, names are often shortened, especially within family and friends. For example, Ketut is often addressed simply as “Tut.” Nyoman, which is my wife’s name, is often shorted to “Man” and pronounced in a sort of African-American manner, a deep “Maaan.”

Not long ago, while out dining with my wife at our favorite restaurant in Ubud, Café Lotus, two African-American couples were seated next to our table. They couldn’t help but hear me constantly addressing my wife as “Man” as is usual. Finally, one of the men at the next table couldn’t resist any longer.

“Yo, why do you keep calling the lady “Man?”

Quickly understanding the crux of the question, I replied,

“Because that’s her name...Nyoman.”

Unwittingly having caused more confusion, the man rebutted,

“Ya, right, that’s what I mean...she’s no man!”

Eri and I just looked at each other, and burst out laughing. Our host, Pak Hans overheard the whole exchange and also broke out in laughter. He bought their table a round of drinks, and Eri proceeded to explain Balinese names to our table neighbors. It was one of those classic funny moments that comedy writers love to replicate.

 

[Norm]

Part 3
Betelnuts in Timor

So at the welcoming meeting in the highlands of Timor there was a group of 15 or so adults sitting around very solemnly. My son-in-law trying to look after me and the wife.

One after another the guys kept walking around, bowing and offering nuts from their little pouchs. You have to follow the local custom so I took some and started chewing; all eyes on me; very little conversation.

After chewing politely on this rather unpleasant tasting nut, which did not seem to be shrinking at all, I swallowed it.

All conversation stopped. someone asked son-in-law a question. He asked if I had swallowed the nut, then nodded to the group.

Well it was like I had let off the Kentut to end all Kentut's (to steal Roy's words).

All eyes went wide, then the Bupati laughed, then another then all were laughing. They came around patting me on the back, smiling and laughing. Apparently it is not the done thing to swallow Betelnut, its like chewing tobacco.

But it broke the ice, ended all formality and got me into the family - well somebody had to look after this strange uneducated bule with no manners.

BTW I still find the thought of betelnuts turns my stomach, every time I see those little red blobs on the ground.

More to follow - but only if others embarrass themselves like Roy and I.

 

[Roy]

A third and final story for now, also involves our favorite restaurant, Café Lotus. My wife and I had gone out to lunch with my wife’s older sister, Made, and her oldest daughter, our niece, Sita.

To set the stage, Sita is a beautiful young 12 year old Balinese girl who due to her years of Legong dancing has a grace and elegance about her not often acquired in most women’s lifetimes.

After lunch was over, my wife and Made went across the street to do a little shopping, and I was left to tend to desert for Sita. During that same time, as Made and Eri left for a while, quite a few other diners also left, and a new batch was coming in...a whole group of older tourists from the states.

Sita decided on an ice cream cone, so I walked her over to the ice cream freezer located near the front of the restaurant to make her choice by having a look at the varieties available. Walking back to our table, Sita’s selection having been made, I got that weird feeling of eyes jabbing be in the back of my neck.

Once back at our table, which is always table number 13 in the back corner with a great view to the Pura Saraswati, I looked around the restaurant only to face innumerable pairs of glaring eyes of contempt. Finally grasping what was going on, I decided to end this once and for all. I rose to my feet and pronounced to the whole restaurant,

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present my niece, Sita, a famous Legong dancer from Kedewatan just outside of Ubud, who will be dancing tonight at 7pm at the Pura Dalem there.”

That seemed to get nods of understanding, (except from Sita, who was busy with her ice cream cone), and even a little applause. As far as I was concerned, the matter was closed. Not long after Sita had finished her ice cream cone, Eri and Made returned, and we left shortly after.

The following day, Made was over to our house for her daily chit chat with her sister. She had a story to tell about the previous night. It seems a whole bus load of tourists from America had shown up for the ceremony and dance at the Pura Dalem in Kedewatan that night. This was highly unusual, as that temple rarely draws tourists. It seemed, so she told her sister, that some American at Café Lotus had told them all about it.

All I could muster was a “Gee, I wonder who that was?” And I excused myself to go back to work.

 

[mungo]

Norm and Roy if it makes you feel any better.......

On my last visit to the great island (August) I thought I was prepared for the airport arrival procedures. And I did up to the part where you grab the suitcases. Two local lads offered their porterage services and I had some Rp in my pocket . The cases were moderately heavy and so why not let them earn a quid...after all we're on holidays and it wasn't a fortune that I had in my pocket (about 10k Rp)

After they carried the cases out to the front of the terminal I reached into my pocket and handed them the small bundle of Indo Rupiah and we all exchanged pleasantries and went on our merry ways.

I then proceeded to the taxi booth to get a taxi to take us to our hotel. It was here that I realised that the money I had organised to exchange and pay for the taxi had been mixed with the money I gave the porters ($50 aud). '' Oops!

Well what can you say? F..k It! Win some..lose sum. At least I made two people happy that night. ':lol:'

 

[SamD]

I was sitting at a bar having a drink with some locals. It was quite blowy and a gust of wind took a Rp1000 note out of my hand and it went fluttering away on the breeze. Being unfamiliar with the currency at that time, as well as being Scottish, of course I went barrelling after it, knocking over tables and chairs in my mad desire to remain financially secure. When my drinking partners could stop laughing they gave me a quick lesson in foreign exchange after I returned puffing and sweating with the treasure in my hand. But I'd probably still do the same today, it's an instinctive reaction for somebody brought up with the idea that paper money is worth hanging on to. I still feel "rich" with a wad of Rupiah in my pocket, I like the feel of it.

In a similar vein, though not related to Bali, I was working in a mining town in the Northern Territory and fell victim to a practical joke where a dollar coin was cemented into the ground outside the mess. Of course, I bent down to try to pick it up to be greeted by howls of laughter from inside. So I went to the back of my truck and retrieved some tools, chiselled it out of the ground, stuck it in my pocket and walked through the doors with a big grin. You win some, you lose some.