iss u e
01 INDONESIA
BARONG BELAS-BELASAN BY RIO HELMI
contents Dec /Jan/Feb 2009
Kabar returns...
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Yes, it’s been a long time coming...this issue of Kabar has taken most of 2008 to come to fruition. We’ve been occupied with many other projects over the year, but Kabar was always on our mind, and now it’s back with a new look, new timing (it’s now quarterly), and a new companion – the Expat Jakarta. Expat focuses on the positive, seeking to offer constructive advice on the most pleasant ways to survive Indonesia’s capital city. Kabar, on the other hand, continues to explore beyond Jakarta, discovering the fascinating people and places of the archipelago. Kabar has always been a labour of love that would never have been possible without the generosity of our contributors, the enthusiasm of our readers, and the support of our sponsors and advertisers. To all of these, and to anyone who has ever nagged us, gently or otherwise, about when the next issue would come out – thank you for the encouragement! You’ll be seeing a lot more of us from now on.
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Enjoy the issue, The Kabar team
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BANTEN BEACH HUNT Oliver Green continues his quest for the perfect West Java beach. A SCHOOL FOR LIFE The Green School in Bali is an exciting experiment in education. LIVING WITH BAMBOO New York novelist Charlotte Bacon discovers a new way of life in Bali. RIO HELMI’S BALI Powerful images from Bali’s favourite photographer.
issue 01 *Bali Spirit 24 32 36
BALI STAYS Select retreats, from private villas to restful resorts. FINDING MICHI An undiscovered (well, until now) gem just south of Ubud. PUTU WIJAYA The legendary son of Bali on the abiding influence of his island.
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PAUL ROPP New York toughened him up; Bali inspired him. INDONESIAN ARTS & CRAFTS Joop Avé launches a new homage to Indonesia’s creative industries. HELLO DOLLY Tim Hannigan takes a trip to Surabaya’s most ‘interesting’ quarter.
*contributors
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Charlotte Bacon (Kabar p. 14)
Charlotte Bacon is the author of four books, most recently the novel “Split Estate,” published in February 2008 by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. She lives in Sibang Kaja, Bali, with her children and her husband, Brad Choyt, who is the director of Green School at the Kul Kul Campus. For more information, see www.greenschool.org and page 8 of Kabar.
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Tim Hannigan (Kabar p. 40)
Tim Hannigan was born on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean in Cornwall. After leaving school he fell into an accidental career as a chef and alternated summers of sweaty kitchen work with long winters wandering in Asia and the Middle East, eventually coming to a temporary halt in Surabaya, East Java.. He is now in the UK completing a long-neglected journalism degree, but he plans to return permanently to Indonesia next year. He can be contacted at tahannigan@yahoo.co.uk. Tim was a winner of the 2007 Panin Bank / KABAR writing competition, ‘Inspired by Indonesia’.
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03 Jacky Hicks (Expat p.12)
Having grown up on the mean streets of Dunfermline, Jacqueline’s journey from small town Scotland to the genteel suburbs of Menteng has been long and winding. Her interest in other cultures began when she discovered how far her schoolgirl French could go towards deciphering Parisian life. Her desire to become a do-gooder led her to study developing countries, eventually gaining a PhD in Indonesian politics. For the past ten years, she has been fascinated by the raw relationship between power and money here, and the no-nonsense spirit of ordinary Indonesians as they cope with living in its shadow. She now lives in Jakarta, working as a political analyst and journalist.
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04 Oliver Green (Kabar p.5)
Based in Jakarta since 1984, Oliver finds time in between extensive holidays to travel to places like Kosovo and Iraq, for which he once received a thank-you note from Kofi Annan. He surfs, sails, grows flowers and feeds cats. The fictional character he most identifies with is Captain Haddock.
05 Rebecca Henschke (Kabar p.30)
Rebecca Henschke is the Editor of Asia Calling, a regional current affairs program from Indonesia’s largest news network KBR68H. She also works as an Indonesian correspondent for SBS Radio Australia, Public Radio International and the BBC World Service. Rebecca received the Alliance of Independent Journalists radio award for her work in 2007 and 2008. She is passionate about environmental issues and social justice and loves dancing, acting and travelling.
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The Great Banten Beach Hunt Oliver Green resumes his quest for the perfect stretch of West Java sand. Follow the obscure clues, and you may find it too...
Somewhere in Java’s westernmost province, warm crystal water is lapping against cool cream sands. There are almost five hundred kilometres of coastline between Merak and Pelabuhan Ratu, all within weekending distance of Jakarta. A lot of it is rocky and uninviting but some of it is truly breathtaking- witness Sambolo beach, only three hours’ drive from central Macetland. There are other places, too. More secluded places... Imagine, within three and a half hours of leaving Jakarta, taking an outrigger canoe up a jungled river on an offshore island, and emerging into a lake of clean unruffled water. From the lake it’s only a fifteen minute walk to your beach- a stunning strip of footprintless sand kissed by shades of clear blue water and flanked by two soaring crags of rock. It exists. If you find this place, you’ll have to camp. The only thing that can be bought on the island is coconuts. The locals (there are about fifty families on the island) are friendly and chatty enough, and there’s sufficient acreage on the island to be assured of privacy and security. Tommy Soeharto planned a resort here but his funds were frozen before he could make any impact. Enjoy it now before some other developer discovers it. If you’re a savvy enough traveller, you will know where this place is from the photos. But if you need another clue, brush up on your haggling and call a fisherman named Pak Suhara on 0818 0899 6810. But don’t tell anyone. *
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“ There is a miracle about Bali,” said Sir David Attenborough. Bali’s beauty is accompanied by something else, an otherworldly quality that has made the island Muse to so many. This spirit shines through in the pages that follow.
The Remains by Rio Helmi “ This was the last shot I took of the royal cremation of the father of a friend, Gung Mirah, in Karangasem several years ago, the royal bull sarcophagus burning against the sky.”
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A School For Life Bali’s new Green School aims to inspire a love of learning, a connection with the environment, and an entrepreneurial mindset that will equip its students to deal with whatever challenges their futures may hold.
On the Kul-Kul Campus in Sibang Kaja, a small village in Mambal that lies southwest of Ubud and northwest of Denpasar, what was until recently eight hectares of untouched lush jungle valley has been transformed into a school that feels truly alive.
has a clue...what the world will look like in five years time, and yet we’re meant to be educating them for it…My contention is that creativity now is as important in education as literacy, and we should treat it with the same status.”
The Green School, which opened its doors to over 100 students from sixteen countries in September 2008, was founded by Balibased entrepreneurs John and Cynthia Hardy, who were partly motivated by their dissatisfaction with the educational options on offer in Bali for their own daughters, as well as conscious of an opportunity to “give something back” to Bali, having sold their share of the luxury jewellery brand that they built together on theisland, and which still bears the John Hardy name.
Enter the Green School, probably the biggest, bravest experiment in education ever undertaken in Indonesia. “The Green School aims to produce graduates who can confidently try different ways of solving problems,” says Ronald Stones, OBE, member of the Board of Directors. “It offers an education which holds onto certain conventions of schooling in a stunning setting that inspires creative thinking and problem solving.”
Their ambitious goal for this novel enterprise is “to create a new paradigm for learning.” At a time when the future seems less within the grasp of our imaginative capabilities than ever before, it has become necessary to find ways of preparing children to cope with whatever circumstances will await them as they enter adulthood. This calls for a flexibility and an adaptive approach that perhaps does not naturally develop within the confines of our traditional understanding of what constitutes a ‘good’ education. It is a time to be bold. Sir Ken Robinson, an internationally renowned expert in the field of creativity and innovation in education, said at the 2006 TE D conference in California: “Nobody
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Mr. Stones is one of the international education experts from whose experience the school management benefits. Having served as headmaster at several British international schools, his familiarity with more traditional educational structures is profound. So too, however, is his recognition of the need for an evolution. “We are in a fast-changing world and as educationalists, our role is to prepare young people for their adult world,” he told Kabar recently. “There will be careers in ten years’ time that we cannot even conceive today. Young adults of tomorrow are going to have to be flexible, adaptable people who can look at the world differently.” The curriculum of the Green School is Steiner-inspired, within an IB (International Baccalaureate) framework, taught through a holistic approach that seeks to develop the intellect while also nurturing each child’s emotional, spiritual and social progress.
“ an on-campus Learning Village will offer students the chance to gain hands-on experience of how businesses function, in a variety of enterprises that will range from chocolate-making to ceramics”
Pictured right: gardens, happy kids, and the stunning bamboo bridge over the Ayung river.
Apart from classroom work, an on-campus Learning Village will offer students the chance to gain hands-on experience of how businesses function, under the supervision of professionals, in a variety of enterprises that will range from chocolate-making to ceramics to publishing. The school’s environmental focus is a natural fit with its location in an area of rural Bali still untouched by tourism. Creating the campus was a process that in itself involved a lot of experimentation and learning, undertaken to create a site that is sustainable and resourceful in the fullest sense. The school is happy to share the results of this process with others, whether these stem from exploring of the possibilities of bamboo architecture, or creating hydropower through a nine-metre vortex driven by the water of the Ayung river. Bamboo, alang-alang and traditional mud walls form the structures of the buildings. The openair classrooms are designed to catch passing breezes, which, combined with fans, a more natural ventilation while providing shelter on rainy days. Even the blackboards are made from bamboo. Fast growing and versatile, when treated with borax salt bamboo is immune from the attentions of bugs and termites and thus very durable. But rarely has the material seemed so glorious as it does here; the stunning bamboo bridge has an iconic quality, and to stand on it listening to the rush of water from the Ayung river below is a meditation.
For a tour of the Green School campus, or to get further information, call +62 361 469875 or visit www.greenschool.org
The campus is also home to goats, buffalo, rabbits, shrimp, fish and many other creatures. Balinese tiang hidup, or living fences, mark the campus boundaries, the leaves of which feed
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animals, while the plants replenish the nitrogen content of the soil. The beautiful Bali cow plays her part too: methane produced creates bio gas to fuel stoves, while the remaining manure is used as fertilizer. Solar-powered electric fences enclose the pigs on campus, and are moved in rotation so that the pigs can act as natural land cultivators. A variety of organic permaculture gardens throughout the campus supply fresh fruit and vegetables, and rice. Through planting and harvesting, students will learn about natural life cycles and fully experience a connection with the environment. Tuition fees are comparable to those of the established international schools in Bali and in fact less expensive than some. But as distinct from these, 20% of the places at the Green School are reserved for Indonesian scholarship students, giving them the opportunity to benefit from a unique style of international education while staying close to their own communities, and empowering them to play a part in the environmental leadership that could prove vital for the preservation of Bali’s natural beauty. It is envisioned that within a few years the whole campus will be a year-round community of summer camps and symposia, exposing students to new ideas and learning from around the world, while in 2009 the Green School is set to become Bali’s first boarding school. “I believe that deep, meaningful change has to start with learning that will cultivate a respect for the environment and give students the tools they will need to become stewards of the natural world,” says Director Brad Choyt. “I hope that we can do this here at Green School and that these ideas will catch and grow well beyond Indonesia.” *
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Living with Bamboo In 2008, novelist Charlotte Bacon left New York for Bali and a dramatically different way of life, within a bamboo home in a tropical jungle, where her relationships with the humans and creatures that surround her are closer than ever before. My house was born from the jungle that surrounds it, three tiers of bamboo, grass, cotton and stone. Wind runs through it like floodwater through a riverbed. Night and day, it sways, a shaded, living hammock as envisioned by Modernists. It shelters two kids, a man, a woman. But my sense of family’s grown since we moved to Bali from New York, my notions of what’s human, too. I claim now, because my house has asked me to, the armored beetles who arrive at dusk. The dogs sleeping on the gravel below the first floor. The geckos that cling to the central beams. Our house has room for them and more. Because we have no outside doors that lock, no walls that barricade our view, we see and know our neighbors on the path that curves beyond the garden. The women on their way to temple, the children off to school. We wave and say hello and have the favor returned. Since our house is at the center of a new campus, students visit us, as well as architects and journalists. Westerners and Indonesians. Parents, children, scheduled guests and spontaneous ones. We plan and host open houses, events at which everyone’s welcome to see and learn about Green School, which as its name implies, will be a haven for sustainability. But I’m willing to take the metaphor even further: we are actually living the idea of “open house,” and it’s provoked a cascade
of changes in our lives, our ways of thinking. Without heavy walls or windows, we’re not just conscious of life cycles, we’re cycling through multiple layers of life. We’re connected with the people we live near, through sight, sound, contact. From my study on the third level, I once heard the intricate weave of five languages at once: Balinese; Javanese; Bahasa Indonesian; French and English. Add the chat of goats, cows, dogs and insects, frogs, a toddler, and myriad birds and it’s like living inside a singing dictionary of vast and humbling scope. Like the animals and people within our newly widened sense of home, the elements aren’t something we shield ourselves from, either. We’ve got to embrace them, from rain storms to gusts of wind, searing days to chilly ones. We’re having to shift our definitions of everything from privacy to comfort and that means opening ourselves to possibility, to risk. I don’t want to overemphasize that aspect of our life in this house— it’s solidly built, it perches firmly on its slope—but nonetheless, every day inside it has a whiff of adventure. Sometimes it can make you crazy, as when the largest of our resident geckos peed on the adapter to my computer and fried it to hell. Nor was I thrilled to find a scorpion lounging below the baby’s bath toys one night in the tub. Still, I’ve had dreams in this house about disaster, earthquake and fire. It’s my subconscious letting me know it thinks I’m at greater risk because we’re less visibly protected than we’ve ever been. The walls, when they exist, are made of slats of bamboo or canvas. Thunderstorms shake the structure from roof to floor. When visitors first see our place, they’re amazed at the soaring ceilings and its resemblance to Sydney Opera House, just roofed in alang alang. But then they glance around and say, ‘But you’re so exposed.’ At first it alarmed me, but now I think, so we’re exposed. And so what? Our bamboo nest has introduced me to a central fact of existence more beautifully and concretely than I would ever have expected. We are all, at this vulnerable juncture, exposed because of what’s happening to the planet’s atmosphere. We are all going to have to face that and make our adaptations or have them thrust upon us. We will need to develop more resilient, nuanced and, yes, more open relationships with the elements, animals, and people who surround us to withstand changes already in motion. This is difficult knowledge, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything and not only because I’m in slightly better alignment with the natural processes around me. It’s also partly because these experiences have enlarged the world of my stories. I lost the computer, but the expression on the
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repairman’s face as I told him what happened was priceless. My thumb received a welt, but I didn’t miss the fierce beauty in the curve of that scorpion’s raised tail. Yes, it’s easier to embrace something beautiful, like the traveling circus of bats careening through the house at twilight and the breath of wind around my ankles as I make my morning coffee. Still, this wild new notion of shelter is fostering in us all a suppleness of being. I think the secret lies within the fiber of the house itself. Mostly, it is built from bamboo, which was the only plant to survive the catastrophe of Hiroshima, a sad but elegant way to convey its stubborn adaptability. Unlike hardwood, bamboo’s exterior is soft and its core is firm. I like the imagery: be receptive to new influence and willing to bend; yet know your limits and maintain clarity about your deep self. Bamboo embodies a subtle blend of determination with malleability, a useful quality in a world that will more and more demand just that kind of intelligent flexibility. No one knows the origin of the word, but one explanation carries lovely, poetic resonance: when the plant is burned, it pops with a powerful crack, a bam, followed by another splinter of noise, a boo. My house, built of bamboo that’s been split, curved, smoked, and sliced, has definitively cracked wide my notion of what constitutes shelter, protection, and home. But it’s more than that, too: our house has brought me closer to people and creatures that have always surrounded me – I just feel more responsible for my neighbors now. What touches them touches me, a relationship of mutual influence. Say the words ‘global warming’ and watch despair rise like an ugly tide in a room. But what I’m feeling here in Bali, in a small patch of jungle bound by rice fields, river, and a large and busy road, is energized. When you’re lucky enough to watch blue butterflies travel the length of your living room, you’ll do almost anything to ensure the preservation of that gorgeous, fragile dance of dust and color. *
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Rio Helmi’s
Visiting Bali as a child had an intense effect on photographer Rio Helmi. “I’d first come here in ’63 with my father. It was a very powerful experience for me, it was very moving. So I always had this thing about Bali in my head, somewhere in the subconscious.”
His father, a dapper diplomat with an interest in film and photography, was intent on showing his children the best of their country, as they spent so much of their time living abroad. “Being in Bali and also the Borobudur – it was the same trip I think – there was a real sense of just dream, like being in a dream. Waking up in the morning in Sanur and seeing incredible sunrise and people on the beach…all these very classic images, all these sort of ‘morning of the world’ images.”
and was offered the position of editor. Needing some help, he recruited Made Wijaya, a fateful decision... “I’m not really sure how we didn’t get sued or murdered. Everybody we managed to insult…it was kind of fun, but it was tiring because every time we’d put the paper to bed, Made would sneak back after I’d left and pay the guys, bribe them to change the plate! He’s such a character. Looking back it’s very funny, but at the time I was always having a heart attack.”
Coming to Bali was “like going to a different planet”, but it wasn’t until much later that the island took on a special importance for Rio. After a spell as a professional hippy in Australia, the twin destinies of Bali and photography collided in 1978, when he moved to the island to pursue a career that has since brought him international recognition. “I had always been interested in photography, but I never really thought of it as a profession.”
The publication folded in 1980, after which he started working with Sinar Harapan. It was a role which gave him an enviable freedom – upon successfully pitching a story idea, he would typically be despatched to some remote part of Indonesia for a few weeks with 20 rolls of film. “I’d spend a month on the road and come back and write up a few stories and then go off again. It was my education in photography and reportage.”
It became one when he approached the Bali Post to sell some photographic work. He soon realised that the remuneration for photographers was not too impressive, but then discussion turned to the finer points of their English-language weekly. Launching into one of his now-famed ‘critiques’, Rio convinced management that he was the man for the job,
He is mindful of the impact that photography can have, the responsibility attached to creating an image that will be seen by others. “It’s kind of like being a magician in a way, you can produce something that touches people, affects people. People come up and ask me ‘what makes a good photo?’ I say I don’t know, look at it, does it touch you? Will you still have it on your wall six months later? Then ok, good image. How else are you going to define it?” *
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Annually all the sacred icons of the Balinese are taken down to the sea prior to Nyepi (a day of silence marking the end of the old year).
R IO H ELMI
FACING PAGE: Cremation The Balinese spend a lot of time and money on the death rites of their relatives, none more so than the royals. Weeks and weeks of work and creative inspiration goes up in flames within minutes. Here, a garuda figure on a princely cremation tower in Ubud catches fire. ABOVE: Barong Belas-Belasan At an annual gathering of barongs from the region of Apuan in West Bali, many different types of barongs are to be seen. The barong belas-belasan are carried by one man, and during the ritual season of Galungan they walk through the countryside until they all meet up for a final ceremony.
R IO H ELMI
ABOVE: Pendet Batukaru Temple priests in Batukaru dance the Pendet as a special ceremonial welcome to the gods who ‘attend’ the annual anniversary of the temple. BELOW: Perang Sampian-Sampian During the annual ceremony at Samuan Tiga, a commemoration of a historical pact between various warring parties takes place. At a certain point during the ritual the young men who participate burst into an exuburant ‘war of offerings’. FACING PAGE: Baris Gede Men of the Kintamani area offer a Baris Gede dance for the annual temple festival of Pura Batur, in the middle courtyard of this regionally significant temple . The dance represents a group of warriors.
R IO H ELMI
ali tays The Island of the Gods is home to some heavenly retreats. Infinity edge pools and jaw-dropping views have become de rigueur. So what are the added elements of s special stay in Bali? While there are no hard-and-fast rules, it does have a little to do with service, intimacy, and pleasant surprises...
Royal Pita Maha, Ubud.
Main picture: The 20-metre infinity edge pool drops off into a verdant valley. From left: One of the four king suites; path leading through the lush gardens at dusk; the setting for another spectacular meal; poolside by night .
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DEVATAS Looking for a Bali escape that is truly blissful, far from unwanted distractions, in total privacy, with discreet staff and mouthwatering food and drink? Perhaps you’re just about to discover it‌
Devatas in Hindu mythology are beings similar to guardian spirits, and it is true that the moment of arrival at Villa Devatas brings a comforting feeling of safe seclusion. This glorious tropical estate is under the management of Bali Luxury Villa Collection and the unmistakeable touch of BLVC founder Pamela Hayes. The property is tucked away in the midst of the lush jungle on the edge of a rural Bali village, only 20 minutes away from Seminyak by road, but a world away in terms of atmosphere. Set in beautifully landscaped lush tropical gardens, Villa Devatas is laid out in Balinese pavilion style with a number of separate buildings. The garden path leads to an imposing structure that houses the lobby area as well as the dining room, with its impressive table hewn from a massive tree trunk. Steps lead down to an outdoor Jacuzzi, set within a 20-metre lap pool, the edge of which appears to drop right off into the verdant valley. Next to the pool is an outdoor-indoor lounging area ideally suited to sipping afternoon cocktails, while on the other side, the library and games room offers a cool retreat, plus wireless internet and a television should you feel the need to reconnect with the outside world. Accommodation is within five magnificent guest suites, one of which is a master suite with its own pool. There is a gym and a spa, and a multitude of different spaces in which to savour the glorious grounds, a particularly special spot is to be found down by the river, where a wooden platform raised above the rushing water offers a tranquil meditation and yoga area in the midst of intense greenery. For all the grandeur of the surroundings, the really appealing aspect is that it does feel like a home. The flexible menu can be adjusted according to taste or diet, invariably resulting in exquisite feasts. We rediscover an old favourite from previous stay at Villa Sungai, another BLVC property: the divine chocolate samosas. Indulgence is absolutely encouraged here: the full a la carte breakfast is complimentary, while food for other meals is charged at market prices. Tea and coffee is freely available all day, accompanied by delicious biscotti, and alcohol is charged at wholesale prices, with complimentary snacks always at hand. Water is complimentary and always readily at hand. Staff can arrange a multitude of activities in-house, from spa treatments to yoga lessons and dance performances. In Villa Devatas, one can envision intimate weddings, reunions of family or friends or simply a quiet retreat in a splendid space: distinctly modern, yet very Balinese. *
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Villa Devatas, Br. Batan Duren, Cepaka, Kediri, Tabanan, Bali, Indonesia. For enquiries, e-mail info@bali-villadevatas.com or call +61 410 324535 (mobile) www.bali-villadevatas.com
Pure Gold
The exquisitely intimate Villa Sungai Gold is a romantic getaway perched on the edge of a jungle valley: more private than any hotel or resort, but with all the pleasures of personalised five-star service. Made, manager of Villa Sungai and the adjacent Sungai Gold, comes to pick us up, and it is like meeting an old friend. This is the essence of the charm of both ‘Sungai’ properties: the impeccable five-star service ultimately has a very personal, very human touch. The staff are not simply there to serve, they are here to understand you, to take care of you. Villa Sungai Gold is a purpose-built couples residence next to the very lovely Villa Sungai (previously explored by Kabar in 2006). Gold follows the theme of understated elegance espoused by its neighbouring villa, but with one bedroom instead of three. Natural colours of whitewashed wood and khaki furnishings set off the beauty of the valley on the side of which it perches and the dazzling celadon infinity-edge pool. Gold has its own entrance, which may be accessed separately from Villa Sungai or opened to connect the two in the case of a group booking. Once the door is closed, it is all yours: staff are available at the touch of a button, but otherwise will not disturb. Its exquisite privacy makes it a destination for romantic candlelit dinners, quiet cocktails, memorable moments. Villa Sungai Gold, Br. Batan Duren, Cepaka, Kediri, Tabanan, Bali, Indonesia. For enquiries, e-mail info@bali-villasungai.com or call +61 410 324535 (mobile) www.bali-villasungai.com
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Whether staying in or exploring the pleasures of the island, pretty much anything can be arranged. The mantra is: “if you want it, we can make it happen.” Desires are fulfilled by the eminenetly capable manager/concierge, a round-the-clock butler service and a chauffeured car that is on call at all times. But chances are you will never want to leave. *
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Maya Ubud Veteran hotelier Paul Blake came to Bali in 1972 to work at the only international hotel on the island at that time, the Hotel Bali Beach in Sanur, originally slated to be the tourist area in Bali. Since then he’s witnessed the development of the Nusa Dua enclave, the rise of Kuta, Legian, and Seminyak. Now the culture and quiet of Ubud attract visitors to the latest property under his stewardship, the Maya Ubud Resort and Spa.
Jl. Gunung Sari, Peliatan Ubud, 80571, Bali The Maya Ubud offers special rates for KITAS holders. For more information, contact +62 361 977888 www.mayaubud.com
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Perhaps Bali’s best resort in terms of value for money, quality of service, and its striking location, the Indonesian-owned Maya Ubud is situated on 10 hectares of hillside garden, stretching 780 metres along a peninsula set high above two river valleys. Reaching the end of this green neck of land, you can descend to the River Café and the award-winning riverside spa. The GM observed the beginnings of the spa culture in Bali back in the early 1990s, and notes that it has been in this century that spas have really become big business for Bali. Today, he believes that the Maya is right up there with the best of them. “Location-wise, I probably have the best spa, definitely in Ubud, perhaps in Bali,” Paul tells us, describing the “wows” that the spot elicits from guests “99 times out of 100.” The architecture of the resort as a whole incorporates Balinese principles of harmony and balance between old and new. The beautiful centrepiece of the lobby is a massive drum shape, fashioned out of bronze to resemble the “moon” of Pejeng, a sacred dongson kept in the temple there. Antique weaving platforms provide seating, while set within the floor are antique ceramics salvaged from a Chinese shipwreck. Superior and deluxe rooms are fresh and inviting, in modern Balinese style, but the real draw accommodation-wise are the garden or pool villas, spread across the property to offer each guest their own personal valley view. Two gorgeous pools and a complimentary activities programme twice a day; guests may also opt for tennis, cooking classes, and nature walks. For those who wish to venture out, village life can be explored by bicycle and painting lessons from local villagers are also an option. The centre of Ubud itself is just minutes away, accessible by regular shuttles. Perhaps the most ringing endorsement comes from a friend who, wanting a five star experience but uninclined to pay the exorbitant rates of the big hotel chains, chose the Maya instead. The verdict? She got an upgrade, stayed for 2 extra nights, was tearful upon departure and still speaks of the experience with some emotion. While the big brand names still wield a lot of clout, places like the Maya show that the best of Indonesian hospitality can really be exceptional. *
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Komaneka by Rebecca Henschke
Komaneka Tanggayuda is hidden away in a grove of trees along the Oos River on the outskirts of Ubud, the renowned artists and culture centre in Bali. Just twenty villas are set amongst palm trees and flowers. In the open garden courtyard wooden woven lateens hang from the trees, casting a spell on new arrivals. There is also a spa, gallery, gym and yoga studio on site. “We wanted to create an artist colony here, a place where artists could live and work side by side with curators and collectors,” explains Koman Wahyu Suteja Neka the founder of the resort, over breakfast. However , a more financially sensible decision to create a boutique hotel with his wife, architect Mansri Trisniawati, was made in 2000. The creative couple has had to make more concessions along the way. The major one was putting televisions in the villas. ‘We really didn’t want each room to have a TV. Instead we put one in the library to create a communal atmosphere. But customers kept demanding a TV in their room ,” explains Koman. “The request particularly came from married couples because they no longer talk to each other !” he laughs. Mansri Trisniawati joins in the joke; she tells me her friends are amazed that they are still married after building this place together. She was in charge of the interior decorating while Koman did the landscaping and lay-out of the resort. “Everything is inspired by, and revolves around, art ,” Mansri explains. “Every room has an original work of art by a Balinese artist.” Each villa also has a private plunge pool, veranda, garden and a bathroom almost as big as the bedroom. They are constructed with local materials, including ‘alang-alang ‘ thatch roofing, paras and other Indonesian stones and woods. There is also a small gallery in the resort’s garden that regularly changes its exhibitions. While we are there it’s showing a collection of young contemporary artists from Indonesia whose work deal s with the theme of ‘awareness’. The small gym has a huge postmodern canvas painting by
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Nyoman Masriadi that is particularly striking. Koman insists they made environmentally friendly decisions every step of the way during construction, that this was barren unfertile land before the resort was created. They are also trying to introduce a recycling system in the resort and building around existing trees. You can also join the carbon free campaign and borrow the resort’s very stylish push bikes. What perhaps best answers the environmental question though is that this boutique hotel is built, run and owned by Ubud cultural royalty, not a European chain. Koman is the son of art connoisseur pioneers Suteja Neka and Srimin, who founded the Neka gallery in 1966. The gallery houses some of Indonesia’s most famous paintings, including an incredible collection of works by renowned Javanese artist, Affandi. Koman has carried on his family’s passion and created the Komaneka contemporary art gallery at the sister resort in the centre of town. However, despite this family’s passion for Balinese art, they looked to the neighbouring island of Java for the centrepiece of Komaneka Tanggayuda resort; a teak wood open air dining room. Koman sits back and smiles; this is one of his favourite stories. “We found it in Kudus village; it was the local village chief’s house. It is more than one hundred years old but it was not being protected.” So they bought it and shipped it over in pieces and then reconstructed it as the dining room. It was then given a traditional Balinese welcoming ceremony called Melaspas. “Java and Bali coming together in harmony,” enthuses Mansri Trisniawati. Unlike in Bali, traditional architecture, such as Javanese teak open-air houses are nowadays very rarely built on Java. “It’s such a shame, a modern city like Jakarta should be the example of what we should never do architecturally, while Ubud must become the dream and the ideal example of the future design of Indonesia,” proclaims Mansri proudly. *
Komaneka Tanggayuda, Banjar Tanggayuda, Kadewatan, Ubud, Bali. T: +62 361.978123 (+62 361.976090 for Central Reservation). Special Rates availably for KITAS holders and Indonesian citizens.
FINDING
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Just when you think you know Bali, another hidden gem is revealed... Michi Retreat is an experience unlike any other on the island, and it owes its charm to the life of a remarkable personality.
Main image: the Nausicaa suite. Smaller images, clockwise from top left: the main pool; the dining room by night; Wayang suite; another view of Nausicaa; Wos suite; the villas and dance studio, as seen from the restaurant Facing page: Only Yesterday suite.
One suite is inspired by the story of Odysseus, the rest by the Founder’s own lifetime of wandering. It starts out as an aimless drive, undertaken purely for the pleasure of being out and about on rural Bali roads on a clear blue afternoon. One glimpse of the sign, however, and the day has a new sense of purpose. It is discreet, simple, a smallish slab of wood engraved with a Kanji character that, we later discover, represents Michi: a Taoist word denoting ‘the Journey and ultimately the Way towards one’s Great Integrity.’
The Founder approaches us, then listens appreciatively to our story of how we were inexplicably drawn along the path to Michi. “You’re not staying here? You can’t afford it,” he surmises, with some sympathy, before we have a chance to respond. His sympathy is sincere: we are treated to lunch. The meticulous care taken over every detail here soon becomes apparent - every item of cutlery and tableware is unique, and beautiful. The chilled water is delicately flavoured with hints of fresh mint and lemon. And, as we discover from this and future meals, the food is divine. “Food is my obsession,” the Founder remarks. So much so that he has sent his chef, Ayu, for training abroad: she has had the opportunity to enhance her culinary skills in Italy, France and Japan.
Little knowing what awaits, but happily idle and intrigued, we look at each other, reverse, and take the turn that will lead us through Jukut Paku village, past a magnificent banyan tree and down to the Michi Retreat. Once there, we are confronted by a mosaic marvel. Gaudi in Bali? The restaurant dazzles with its playful mobiles and claw-footed, mirrorstudded pillars. Across the valley, distant figures are discernable in the lush padi, where a terrace of intense green drops down to the rushing river below.
Michi is a cooperative, built and run by the people of Jukut Paku, under the guidance of the Founder. It has now been almost ten years in the making, a process of design, training, construction and reconstruction. The workers will share in any profits of the retreat and, ultimately, it belongs to them. “I found my heart in harmony with the local people,” says the Founder. “I want to leave something good here.”
The Founder – who, with a combination of modesty and mystique, does not wish to be named – appears shortly after our arrival. A former professor of cultural anthropology, he is in his late seventies and walks with the aid of a silver-capped stick, his canine companion Bubu by his side. While he consults with staff, someone presents a brochure.
Each room or villa is different to the last detail (and of details there are many). One suite is inspired by the story of Odysseus, the rest by the Founder’s own lifetime of wandering, taking in the friends he met along the way (one suite is dedicated to Man Ray), his passions (coffee and Coco Chanel), and the good old days (the glittering Only Yesterday is replete with old cameras, typewriters, contemporary art and jazz memorabilia). There is a temple, a meditation hall, a library dedicated to Gandhi and Tagore, and a dance studio dedicated to celebrated Indian classical dancer Mrinalini Sarabhai.
Towards the back of the booklet is a page entitled ‘The Tale of a Nomad:
Freedom from the Spurious and the Specious.’ The tale reads as follows: Japan’s invasion of Manchuria in 1931 was a thunderclap to an infant living near the Russian border of inner Mongolia. After seven decades of a peripatetic existence, the founder was able to unearth a strip of the land in Ubud, an art & craft center of Bali. The place was a providential “Canaan” for him…
While guests have been visiting the retreat for some time now, it has most often been by chance or invitation – “the longest soft opening in history,” as the Founder would have it. Now, however, the time has come for Michi to be discovered. *
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To find Michi, visit www.michiretreat.com or call +62 361 973432.
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putu wijaya “ When I was in Bali, I wasn’t that interested in what Bali possesses… When I was in Bali, I wasn’t that proud. Then after I had left Bali, I realized that I began to come closer to my background. And it was involuntary, it came just like that. I don’t write a lot about Bali. But what I write, when I think about it, is very ‘Bali’. For instance, my writings can be compared to Balinese traditional painting, where all the canvas is full with no empty space at all. This doesn’t mean that there’s no focus, but rather that there are many. All parts of the painting are in focus. Moreover, in my writings, I unintentionally fuse dreams and reality. Dreams and reality blend into one concrete fact. Just like Balinese traditional paintings. There, even dreams are painted together with reality, and there’s no perspective. It’s the same in my writings. I believe that it is the muse of Bali’s local sensibility: what existed in the past also exists today. Everything has to be adjusted within the circumstances. In Bali, people believe in karma. You will get what you give. This makes the Balinese afraid of doing anything bad or irresponsible. Karma, along with the desa kala patra (place, time, and circumstances), guides their actions. Wherever one dwells, one should always adapt oneself in accordance with the time and circumstances.
From an interview with Teraya Paramehta. Putu Wijaya, whose full name is I Gusti Ngurah Putu Wijaya, is one of Indonesia’s foremost writers and directors and was born in Tabanan, Bali on 11 April 1944. He has earned 19 national and international awards and his literary works include 40 scripts and novels, 1000 short stories, 18 screenplays, 3 film screenplays and 200 episodes of TV serials. A number of his works have been translated into Dutch, English, French, Russian, Japanese, Thai, German and Arabic. In 1971, he founded Teater Mandiri in Jakarta.
In the Balinese play about Calon Arang for instance, the Barong and Rande are endlessly fighting each other. This is a fight between good (Barong) and evil (Rande). However, the good does not always win, sometimes the evil wins. All depends on the desa kala patra.
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In Bali, everything has two sides, just like a two-sided coin. It is based on the Balinese principle of puyung maisi which literally means ‘filled - unfilled’. The unfilled is actually filled and vice versa. Existence is inexistence; inexistence is existence! I often see people use Bali merely as an accessory, especially in terms of tourism. In other words, people ‘sell’ Balinese culture like products. For me, Bali is the wealth of my soul and cannot be seen just as an accessory.” *
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“Cutting fabric and cutting umbilical cords, there’s not much difference! I helped deliver a couple before and I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed Bali, I thought it was the free-est place I’d ever been. I was at that time asked to come to do a collection for a major US company that was producing wrap skirts with Diane von Furstenberg and the first five-pocket blue indigo jeans with Calvin Klein’s name on it. They asked me to do shirts under my name, so I came to Solo to work with Batik Keris to make that collection. I lived on the factory premises in Solo for a while and would come to Bali on the weekends. I felt that the Balinese were by far the most creative per capita race of people I’d ever had
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The Bali-ba sed master of casual e he’s not in legan th e fashion b t usiness; rath ce insists that clothing fo r “people w ho would ra er, he designs journey he ther be nak re from Ne ed.” His w York was had started v ia India, wh living in 19 e re he 7 1. Then cam help delive r a baby in e the invita Bali… tion to
the pleasure of working with. So it became a very comfortable environment. I met my wife here who was an Italian doing a shoot for Vogue and we got married here, our two children were born here. Unfortunately, those of us who helped to make Bali more westernised lost a lot of our freedom, because with the western concept came jealousies and the ‘haves and have-nots’. As long as we were respectful with the local people, no one bothered you at all. They were glad to have you part of the community because they were amused by these foreigners who simply did not have it together! In reality I think what’s given this island so much to expand and to move its creativity
is the mélange of the western coming here and working with the creativity of the local. It typifies the best of what society can do in exchange and collaboration. One day when you want to do a story on what’s really interesting in Bali, you come to me and I’ll give you an interview about children raising their parents. The children evolve here at such a phenomenal pace because of their exposure, they end up by the time they’re five speaking five languages and dealing with people from all over the planet, it’s quite spectacular. In general, if you get past the hormones kicking in, the kids that come out of here are some of the most qualified, world-conscious, global-thinking children that I’ve ever encountered anywhere and it doesn’t happen without these children really affecting their parents. We create a product that is manufactured by Muslims up north in the Bay of Bengal, sent for printing to Hindus in Jaipur and Marawatis, and then comes to the world’s largest Muslim country, Indonesia, to a factory where we have Catholics, Muslims, and Buddhists working together, and then is exported to fourteen countries, by a New York Jew! Growing up in New York, if you were a Jew, you had to be a good fighter, or you had to be a fast runner, or you had to be a quick thinker. Survival is the greatest motivator of all. Life gives us the arena to practise our kata. How efficient we become depends on how focused we are, how disciplined we are, and how determined we are, how flexible we are and how capable we are to deal with disappointments. I’m also lucky because if you grew up the way I grew up I shouldn’t be doing what I am doing, because I never had a formal education and I didn’t know how to read until I was 21, 22 years old. I enjoy reading now, because reading affords you a frame of reference that sometimes verifies concepts you believe in, or gives you an opportunity to look at things that you didn’t even know existed…a great way to expand one’s consciousness is through getting the views of other people, and reading is a wonderful vehicle for that.” *
Celebrating Craftsmanship
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Preface by Joop Avé
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TRADITIONS
Launched recently at Alun Alun in Grand Indonesia, the 30 RITUALS latest coffee table tome from BAB Publishing Indonesia was 50 ELEMENTS developed from a concept that originated with the charismatic 52 founder Joop Avé, former Minister of Tourism, Post and earth 64 Telecommunications. cloth 88
Indonesian Arts and Crafts is available at Periplus bookstores in Indonesia. For further information contact BAB Publishing on +62 21 3907441 or support@babpublishing.com.
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This handsome volume, Indonesian Arts and Crafts, explores a subject close to Pak Joop’s grass and reed heart. As he mentions within the book, his time working and travelling with President Sukarno 104 “heightened his appreciation for everything Indonesian and ever since he has lived surrounded metal by Indonesian arts and crafts in his residence.” The book embodies a celebration of “the creative 128 genius of the Indonesian people.” wood Presenting the book with his customary panache, Pak Joop assured those gathered that his 162 book was just a taster, and encouraged them to delve further into the world of Indonesian handDESIGN crafts themselves, in particular with a view to supporting the preservation of this beautiful legacy. An estimated 20 million people in Indonesia live from the manufacture of handcrafts, mak-218 Toward Bright Future ing a vital contribution to Indonesia’s creative industries. “What makes this phenomenon all athe more extraordinary is that the makers of these astounding artefacts, objects of great intrinsic 220 Crafts Guide beauty, are among some of the poorest.” Pak Joop told the story of a woman he had met while Bibliography travelling in a poor and remote part of the archipelago, the mud floor of her home in stark conPicture Credits trast with the exquisite beauty of the fabric that she was creating. Helping these artisans by raising awareness of and promoting their craft is a cause in which this book will play a role, both here and internationally. *
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Hello Dolly Saturday, midnight; most of Surabaya is sleeping. The skeleton crew, the handful of people who stay awake all night – becak drivers, petty hustlers, traders in the Keputran vegetable market – have settled into their bleary-eyed rhythm of endless kretek cigarettes. by Tim Hannigan
Somewhere past the towering outline of the Shangri-La hotel I turn my motorbike onto a narrow, rising street. The upmarket shops of the main road fall away; alleyways lead off into working-class kampungs and thin men with high cheekbones sit smoking in the light of hissing kerosene lamps. I lose my way in the tangle of roads and find myself in the heavy darkness of a sprawling graveyard. Figures move furtively between white gravestones in the insect-clouded gloom. Stories of ghosts and jins aside, the graveyards are the place of the night’s lowest and most sordid commerce, and I am glad when I come amongst the houses again. I stop at a crooked junction, peering left and right. A man in a grimy vest raises his head from a roadside bench. At this time of night, in this part of town, I could only be looking for one place: before I ask, he raises his hand and points towards the distant rumble of dangdut music. “That way Mister, Dolly.” Dolly. Tell Indonesians anywhere from Kupang to Banda Aceh that you live in Surabaya and there’s a fair chance that they’ll nod suggestively and say, “Dolly, Mister, I bet you go to Dolly every night.” And no level of protest will convince them otherwise. People say that Dolly is Asia’s biggest red light district. It’s not (the largest lies in Bombay’s vast Kamathipura slum); it’s not even the biggest in Southeast Asia – according to connoisseurs of the Bangkok night. But for better or for worse, in popular myth Surabaya takes the title. A hunchback dwarf waves me into a grimy parking space beneath a crooked concrete building. “Looking for a girl, mister?” he leers at me, but I shake my head and walk out onto the crowded street. The air is trembling with the grumbling bass-lines of bad karaoke. The rumours and notoriety create an image of Dolly as a vast, glowing palace of illicit pleasures, a place to boggle the eyes and weaken
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the knees. But really it’s just two scruffy streets – Jarak and Dolly – among the graveyards on the high ground above the Banyu Urip canal. The daily life of the working class kampungs goes on oblivious around them in the markets and corner warungs, the schools and Muslim prayer halls. A small man appears at my side. “Mister…” he nervously struggles to muster some spoken English. “Mister… I… English… you – girl?” He seems relieved when I reply in Indonesian and tell him that I just want to take a walk and perhaps a beer. Surprisingly, it seems quite normal to come to Dolly “just for a beer and a walk”. This is not a place of coercive street side solicitation. There are no scantily-clad hookers lining the pavements; the women lounge passively on the sofas behind the windows of the “guesthouses”. It seems that Dolly is not all about sex – not entirely anyway - for this is the only place for after-hours drinking in Surabaya. Jalan Jarak is grimy and rough-edged, but there’s no air of violence, and little sense of sleaze. The bars are dimly-lit and noisy, and the crowds on the street are cheerful young men – people who could never afford to drink in the over-priced and pretentious nightclubs back in the heart of the city. There are shops and stalls selling peanuts and cigarettes, and food stalls with sizzling woks. Dolly is Indonesia’s most famous example of an official tolerance zone, known as lokalisasi: a government-sanctioned ghetto of sex industry. Between 1500 and 2000 women work in the brothels here, and the wider service industry of the district employs hundreds more. Rumour has it that the police take an enormous nightly cut of the profits from each brothel, but business goes on, unabated. The Oldest Profession has a long history in Indonesia, particularly in port cities like Surabaya. The first official tolerance zones – with the women given weekly medical
A hunchback dwarf waves me into a grimy parking space beneath a crooked concrete building. “Looking for a girl, mister?” he leers at me, but I shake my head and walkout onto the crowded street. The air is trembling with the grumbling bass-lines of bad karaoke.
examinations - were created by the Dutch during the 19th Century in an attempt to curb rampant venereal disease among the military. Stern Christian morals saw the sex trade pushed into darker shadows in the early 20th Century (with a consequent surge in levels of syphilis), but lokalisasi policy was reinstated by the government of independent Indonesia in the 1950s. Dolly was officially sanctioned in the 60s, but there had been an informal brothel kampung in the area since the turn of the century, and the nearby graveyards had long been a place for latenight assignations. The quarter is named after one of the first madams of the area. I step into the sticky gloom of one of the bars. Light is kept to a minimum in here, but the torn fittings and redraw eyes of the drinkers still show. An aging woman with a hard face and too-tight jeans is leading a ragged band through dangdut classics while a gaggle of outrageously drunk men stumble on the greasy dance floor. I take a seat and a man sitting at the next table leans over to me in a cloud of boozy good-nature. He presses a bottle of over-chilled Guinness on me and tries to teach me to swear authentically in Javanese. He tells me that he lives nearby and comes to Dolly most nights – “Sometimes for a girl, sometimes just to get drunk.” He explains the way the quarter works: Jalan Jarak is mostly for drinking. There are brothels here, but they are second-rate, with older, cheaper girls. Jalan Dolly itself, a narrow alley at right angles to the main street, is all about business. “The girls on Jarak are cheap,” he slurs, raising his beer, “but they’re ugly! On Dolly – beautiful, but expensive!” Once he’s happy with my pronunciation of the “J-word” I take me leave. Jalan Dolly itself is different. Here the brothels are tightly packed and small men tug at my arm and hiss in my ear all the way down the street. Sickly strip lights blaze behind the windows and girls with bored, unhappy faces sit with folded arms, waiting. I see one girl sitting cross-legged on the floor eating rice from brown paper. She looks troublingly young. I had been becoming quite endeared to the cheerful atmosphere of the place, but when I see her I remember what Dolly is really about. The women here do well by the standards of sex workers in Indonesia,
with regulations and fixed periods of annual leave, and more time off when the whole quarter piously shuts down during Ramadan. But they all come from backgrounds of grinding poverty and there are plenty of reports of under-age girls and trafficked women. HIV is an ugly presence – one report says that 8% of the women in Dolly are infected. Walking back towards Jarak I glance to the left and see another foreigner slumped on the sofa of one of the brothels. A girl with blond-streaked hair is sitting picking her nails, ignoring him. He is too drunk to raise his head and I hurry on, not wanting to recognise him as someone I know. The hunchback dwarf takes the parking fee from me and grins. “Happy, mister? Happy in Dolly?” “Happy enough,” I say and ride homewards. Dolly is an odd place, its reputation and notoriety far outstripping reality. The quarter itself is like some famed lady of the night, renowned for her beauty and prowess. When you finally track her down among the kampungs and graveyards she’s just a ropey old hooker, well past her prime, but with a cheerful laugh and an earthy sense of humour. I’m glad I visited, and next time I’m in Medan, or Makassar or wherever it may be, and someone says, “You’re from Surabaya, mister? So you must have been to Dolly,” I’ll be able to say yes, though I don’t suppose they’ll believe me for a moment when I say, “But only for a walk and a beer…”*