Finally, a follow-up to our continuing donuts adventure!

We returned to the Dunkin’ Donuts Denpasar branch last Saturday and the first thing we noticed was that the ‘offending’ sign in Bahasa Indonesia was removed. On top of that, the staff were entering orders in the computerised cash register and giving everyone a receipt.

We guess the outlet’s manager just gave up on people who walked off without paying for their purchases once they figured out how to beat the system.

Then when we sat down, we saw this sign diagonally opposite from the Dunkin’ Donuts outlet. How is that for a ’sign’?!

Later, when we passed the Sanur branch on the bike, I took a quick glance inside and saw that the offending sign was still present. Perhaps we should bring our little ‘donut crusade’ there too?

No matter which part of the island you are at, you will notice the perfect posture of Balinese females. The walk with their backs straight, shoulders back and head held up.

The upright posture of the Balinese female was developed not out of confidence, but out of necessity: since a young age, they have carried items in their head over walking distances. A straight back couple with an upright head ensures that the nothing falls off during the journey. This constant practical need has developed into a lovely posture for the ladies.

Although a common sight here, such good posture is sorely lacking among Singaporean females. Such a pity, for all females should walk upright and show off their shapely figures, slim neck and pretty faces. For sure this is something that Singapore can learn from the Balinese.

As you travel around Bali, you will notice that there is much construction work being carried out.

However, there is always a phenomena that I have noticed at different sites: usually a team of 10 men are present, but only four or five are working while the rest stand or squat idling.

This may come as surprising for Singaporeans, paying 10 men but only actually having 50 per-cent doing the work. If you bargain with them by saying you will only pay for four men, all 10 will say they will not do the job.

Indeed, I was taken aback in the days before our pond clean-up when a similar case happened: three men wanted Rp350,000 (approximately S$60 / €30 / US$38) for cleaning it up, while the normal rate was Rp30,000 (approximately S$5.10 / €2.55 / US$3.27) for one man to do the work. When the S.O. said he was willing to pay Rp50,000 for only one person to complete the task, all three decided not to do the work.

Thus, most contractors would rather end up paying for more hands that do less, than not having any hands do the work at all. This for me was, and still is, a new concept in hiring workmen.

In comparison, the S.O. was amazed at the sight of local women engaged in the same hard labour, required of construction work, alongside local men at these construction sites. Some of these women work even harder and more conscientiously than the men. He had never seen women engaged in hard labour when he lived in the States and in Italy.

However, I was not perturbed by this sight. As a young student in Singapore, we learned about the Samsui women who emigrated from China to Singapore and worked in construction (refer to Samsui women and the sction on Hakka dialect group in Chinese in Singapore. We learnt that these women chose independence over marrige, that they earned their own keep through decent work instead of peddling vices, and may have even taken a vow of celibacy. There were even Singapore-produced Chinese drama serials on these migrants from China that settled in Singapore.

Although now mainly men work onsite in the field in Singapore, there is no denying the contribution of these women in building the country. Who knows, in 100 years or more, there will be acknowledgement for these female labourers, acknowledgement that they deserve and have not yet received.

For additional pictures, check out my Multiply page.

Weeks of intense work and insensitive/ inconsiderate clients finally took their toll on the S.O. and myself. The stress was also beginning to show on our maid, whom we sensed had some uncomfortable moments when she had to navigate our swinging moods.

Thus the three of us bundled into a hired jeep and escaped from our electronically connected home on the hill. We drove into Ubud on the afternoon of Saturday Nov 11 and spent the remainder of the day lazing it away.

After a short window-shopping walk through some streets in the blistering sun, we placed ourselves at a quiet corner of the al fresco dining area at the Delicat for some refreshment. We unanimously voted for a warm Norwegian style apple pie accompanied with a scoop of vanilla ice cream for each person, and a pot of hot ginger tea. As we savoured our dessert, the warmth of the setting sun tickled our tired feet. Sounds of children playing on the adjacent field filled the air: cheers rang out from a group of girl and boy scouts involved in some games, while young buys engaged in an informal soccor match.

A few hours later, we found ourselves seated at Naughty Nuri’s for spare ribs. Although only six of us were expected at dinner, friends who knew our friends who knew their friends soon added to the crowd. Being Saturday night, the warung also saw visits from tourists and other expatriates who were not part of the usual crowd. After a few really noisy hours had passed, we brought our satiated tummies and tired bodies back for some rest at Asin’s Bungalows.

Sunday began early for all of us – we woke with excitement towards the day’s itinerary of visiting Mount Batur and Gitgit Waterfall. The majestic beauty of the mountain was marred only by the pesky touts hawking postcards and souvenirs to the S.O. After the slight harassment, we took a wrong turn into the city of Bangli. Turns out that the accidental detour happened so that we could locate a toilet in a fitness club for the relief of my stomach pains.

Once that was settled, we went on with the journey. Coming out somewhere in Singaraja, we stopped at a tiny warung, identified only by a little sign that said ’siobak’, or roasted pork in the Chinese Fujian dialect, only because “it looked clean” for the delicate stomach of the S.O. It was one of a few warung’s in Singaraja selling the city’s specialty: fried and grilled pork meat, skin and parts drenched in a generous serving of brown spicey soy sauce. The entire meal for us three, including two packets of keropok or deep fried shrimp cracker (usually costing Rp1,000 / S$0.17 / US$0.11 per packet) and drinks was only Rp36,000 (S$6.15 / US$3.95).

Within 10 minutes drive of the eatery was the entrance of the slight walk to the waterfalls. We parked and braced ourselves for the 20 minute walk through a natural forest enclosure in the stifling heat. Along the way we said hello to the animals kept by the inhabitants of the forests. We also admired the variety of plants: papaya, rambutan, banana, bamboo and clove trees were in abundance.

At last, the waterfall greeted us with its cool cascading liquid. The S.O. enjoyed the relaxing sensation as the cold water poured over him, and our maid refreshed herself by dipping her hands and feet into the cool stream. As we sat and admired the awesome power of nature, I spotted something among a stone in the waterfall. See if you can spot it in this picture.

Half an hour later, it was time for a long drive back to Ubud, via Gianyar. We passed by the scenic rice terraces of Tirta Gangga, the busy fishing village of Amed and the quiet tourist trap of Candidasa on our long drive down the east coast of Bali. We also passed by Pura Goa Lawah, more commonly known as the Bat Cave Temple.

Dinner was at Arie’s warung, again by the soccor field of Ubud and just behind Tutmak’s. We shared the warung’s specialty smoked duck and nasi ayam pecel. Dinner ended slightly before 8.30pm, by which time we were entirely exhausted from the long drive of the day. So we bought brownies for breakfast at a minimart, and retired for the night.

After a leisurely breakfast on Monday morning, we packed our bags and departed Ubud at 10am. Our last vacation stop was the art market in Sukawati. We arrived empty handed and left with kitchen food covers; two cotton sling bags; pretty sandals for our maid; two cotton sleeveless tops and capris for me, and a cotton shirt for the S.O.

Delaying the journey back to reality just a little longer, we drove to Nusa Dua after lunch in Sanur. At the Sogo outlet in the mall, our maid met her best friend since elementary school and the two girls spent some time catching up. The stop in the mall also allowed the S.O. to make a significant purchase for a significant event.

Walking through the doors of home at 5pm, we felt drained of energy and also of finances from this short get-away. However, it was very welcomed food for the soul.

Now we return to the businesses and work at hand with renewed vigour and a clearer mind.

“Where are you from? Singapore?! You speak very good English for a Singaporean!” This is a line most often heard from westerners – Australians, Kiwis, Americans, Swiss etc. – visiting Bali, after they hear me speak.

It seems that the time has come for me to acknowledge that a majority of Singaporeans do not speak intelligible English, despite the fact that lessons in school are conducted in English, and that English is the busniess language of the country.

Some people will quickly point me in the direction of our adopted ‘lingua franca’ as the reason: “Singaporeans don’t speak English, but Singlish.”

Frankly, I do not see how Singlish can even be considered a language when its grammatical and vocabulary structures resemble a dialect more than a language.

Secondly, when people comment on my spoken English, they are comparing it to the ungrammatical English that they have heard from other Singaporeans on their previous visits to Singapore.

I explain that these Signaporean may not have had the opportunity of being educated from nursery school to university. Yet, these westerners say that my level of spoken English is better than any Singaporean they have met. Which leads me to question: where are all the speakers of good English, whom I know exist?

Perhaps it is not everyday when these westerners meet someone who has made grammatically correct English a must in her daily life: my mother insisted that I speak grammatical English and even put me through speech & drama lessons so that I could enunciate and pronounce words clearly; with the interest sparked, I read English language in university; I have been involved in English editorial work for the past nine years, and I pride myself in speaking to be understood.

My level of written and spoken English, it seemed, was never an issue. Except when it came to Americans who wanted to buy my writing services.

One American expatriate working and living in Bali wanted me to lower my rates even after the quote was 40 per-cent lower than what I charged in Singapore. Yet, when I gave these rates to a medium-size design agency based in Bali run by Balinese who have luxury hotel chains as their regular clients, the owners commented that I had offered them good rates.

What took the cake was an email exchange with an American company when my application for some freelance assignments was rejected with a simple: “We only accept first language English writers.”

Perhaps they have had previous bad experiences with Singaporeans, or they may not know that English is the business language of Singapore, or they may have jumped to conclusions on seeing my Chinese surname. Whatever the case, I clarified the issue and work should be coming in quite soon.

In the end, there is no escaping the issue of good English, whether I am in Singapore or Indonesia or anywhere else in the world.

This experience has taught me one important lesson: if you want your children to speak a language well, forget about hoping that the schools will achieve it; instead, plant the seed of interest in your children and encourage them whenever they make positive progress.