Revenge is Mine

When I lost my Macbook in KL I had to visit an internet café to do travel plans and work. I made good friends with the nice and kind sales attendant at my favorite internet café in JL Bukit Bintang. We exchange pleasantries,  small talk and tell her she’s the first Burmese person I met. Once, on my visit she warned me about a big burly man who just about asked EVERY woman inside the internet café to go out with him. The kind of man who would hit on a post as long it’s wearing a skirt.

True to my Burmese’ friends’ warning, the man approached me then hilarity ensues:

Big Surly Guy: Excuse me. Are you from the Philippines or Thailand?

Me: Uhm. Manila

Big Surly Guy: Do you know how to travel fo Baguio or Manila?

Me: Uhm. You take a bus.

Big Surly Guy: Is there a plane that flies to Baguio from Manila.

Me: I dunno. Just take the bus.

Big Surly Guy: No planes?

Me: (annoyed) Yeah, there are an antiquated few.

Big Surly Guy: Do you think Filipinas would date outside of their race? What’s your opinion on this?

Me: ( I was really uncomforatable at this point. Go away, I’m trying to work!) I dunno. But we don’t like annoying foreigners in general.

Big Surly Guy: What would you say if I ask you to go out with me?

Me: Oh. I am sorry. I am taken.

Big Surly Guy: I’m sorry. He is a lucky guy. He should marry you.

Me: Really? Are you sure? How can you be so sure? Here! *I pound the goddamn table* (I was half agitated, annoyed and sarcastic.) Go talk to him in Yahoo! Voice, maybe he will listen to you! (This time I really raise my voice and began mimicking a cry) I mean good god! I didn’t mean to kill his Siamese cat! I swear to god it was a drowning accident!

The guy was surprised and weirded out since everybody in the internet café was looking at us. He left, to the relief of the women in the internet café.

There was no guy on the other end of the chat. I was talking to my 8 year old nephew in Facebook chat about how I think he looks like Justin Bieber.

My acting and drama lessons in elementary school paid off well. 

Mr. Pogi

I have a Balinese admirer. He is some random 20++ year old guy who offered to take me with his motorbike to my friend’s bungalow for the measly sum of 10,000 rupiah or about 1 US dollar. I found out that was twice the price I should have paid for. He began telling me that I should go out with him in some bar in JL Raya. Really, now? The gall of him to rip me off and then ask me out.

My courteous reply to men I do not fancy dating is “I’m taken. My significant other is crazy and whacko.”  -- which is a total lie but it does work all the time.

Two days ago I had lunch somewhere in JL Monkey Forrest . Someone screamed “Hey, heyyyy you!” I do not turn my back because how the hell I’m supposed to know that he was yelling at me. Then he screams again…”Hey. You Filipina!” I still do not turn my head. Certainly I am not the only Filipina in this tourist lane. He finally shouts my friend’s name and then I turn around. He asks how is Theresa? “Oh, she’s probably at work” and then I went on about my business.

On my way home today, I saw Mr. Balinese again (Ubud is not a good place to hide). He was on a motorbike and his eyes lit up and he smiled at me “Hellooo.” He almost hit the gutter.  I laughed and it did make me blush.

It’s good to be admired. Now if only if the one who’s admiring me now is Mr. ____________ . *Sigh*

Hippie Town

I picked up a free local magazine in one of the chi-chi cafes in JL Raya Ubud. This magazine is probably the most circulated publication in Ubud.

There was a 3 page article on the path to enlighten or something about your inner voice written by some expert. It was the weirdest bullshit I’ve ever read. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for finding enlightenment and all about “finding yourself”. I am no grammar Nazi for I, make a lot of mistakes in my random blogging. This was one was so bad it deserved to be photocopied and sent out to my editor friends. The article used a lot of “….” , italicized words, bold words and capitalized words. The thing that bothered me the most is like it was written while the author was smoking pot. No, he wasn’t smoking pot. He was probably on acid. It was the kind of essay that would earn a scribbled note from your teacher --- “And your point is?”

 In the same magazine it was advertised that you can have your own Eat, Pray & Love retreat with the help of some mystical jewelry set. Sounds like an ad straight from the home TV shopping network. It was also done in poor taste since this “healer” is using someone else’s work to promote her products and services.

Ubud is no doubt the center of arts in Bali or Indonesia, even. Just about every Balinese is a painter, musician, sculptor or artist. Even the guy who tries to sell you tickets for the show, the satay street vendor or motorbike driver is an artist.  God bless the true artists but sometimes you gotta weed out the hippies and “gurus” who descended in Ubud after Woodstock was over. Some of them are just here trying to make a quick buck from gullible tourists.

Denpasar (Bali) Airport Customs Adventure

I landed in Bali three days ago. Because I’m an ASEAN passport holder I didn’t have to through the long visa-on arrival line queue. Everything went well and I even met a cheerful Indonesian-Australian lady who has giving me tips on where to go.

Custom declarations came and submitted my non-declaration form. It was my lucky day. One of the custom officers decided to do a random check on me. This was fine and dandy because that’s their job. Although, I did feel a bit being singled out or you may say “racially profiled”.  I was the only little brown Asian amongst a sea of Caucasian holiday makers.

Anyhoo, the customs started going through my bags. This time my fears were confirmed, the custom officer is a douchebag. He kept going through my stuff and asking me “what is this for?” when the items he has been looking at are so goddamn OBVIOUS and self explanatory. Like the cotton balls, and then my toiletries such as shampoo, moisturizers, lotions etc. When dealing with the customs and immigration one must be cool, calm and collected.

Then I was swabbed. Fun times. Swabbing is a method they use for detecting tiny traces of drugs in your hands or luggage. All my lovely little tiny fingers were swabbed and my 3 luggages of kikay stuff, of course resulted to a negative. I thought I was getting a free manicure. Free manicure! What a country!

The most annoying thing that he did was, take out the clear plastic bag of my underwear and had the tenacity to ask me and grin: “what is this?”. I just smiled and chuckled but my thought bubbles were saying “You haven’t seen a freakin’ bra before?”

Mr. X suddenly picked up this retractable ballpoint pen keychain from one of my bags. He was intrigued. He snapped the pen and hooked it in his pocket shirt and smiling like “this-looks-good-on-my-pocket-isn’t-it.”. So like I have no choice really but to give him the pen. I was lovely and polite (damn Asians why do you have to be always polite!) and said ‘if you want it, it’s yours.” 

You know of all the stupidest crimes one can commit it is trying to transport drugs thorough an airport. There is an 80% chance probability you will get caught. Unless of course, you are a certain congressman from the Philippines.  How many security checks you have to go through in an airport?  The canine sniffing dogs and several x-rays?  It doesn’t make sense. Well drug trafficking doesn’t make sense in itself!

Anyway, I know customs is only doing their job. It’s their job to be suspicious. But this people need to learn how to respect genuine tourists. There was no absolute need to wave my clear bag of underwear in the air, noh?