Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Kopi Luwak at Last

Finally had the opportunity to sample Kopi Luwak this weekend. At a usual price of Rp. 300.000 per cup (30+ USD) it's a coffee generally experienced only by the rich and and priviledged. But at Bali Pulina, in the uplands near Ubud, this 'exquisite' treat is offered, by the extra small cup, for only Rp. 50.000.

Kopi Luwak, for those who do not know, is made from coffee beans harvested from the droppings of the civet -- a ferret-like creature with a wolf-like face which roams the jungle thereabouts. Sound appetizing? Well, most truly special things are like that. Monkey brains, for instance. Eels. Snails -- sorry, escargot. Caviar. Beetles.

Happily (as I think, anyway), I have the tastbuds of a pauper, saving me from strange affections such as these (and saving my pocketbook as well). In short, I was unimpressed with the civet droppings. Tasted no different from Kopi Bali to me, which comes straight from the plant and not the intestine and bowel. But there's no harm in trying (I hope), and one should always expand his knowledge of such things where possible -- so that he can speak from experience rather than simple prejudice.

Friday, November 9, 2012


A friend tells me of having read a story today in the Sanur Rag about a Balinese man having intercourse with a chicken. I should note that he killed the chicken first, though I will not hazard an opinion at this juncture on whether this renders the act in essential any better or worse, except to say that it was probably better for the chicken. But this is only a guess. Who can fathom such matters?

It's not an unheard of sort of incident in paradise, although the animal involved is usually of a more substantial nature -- a cow or a pig being considered more attractive matches. Or at least as far as practicability goes.

It must also be noted that in most documented cases these animals have been guilty of turning into beautiful young women -- at the critical moment anyway -- and thus luring their unsuspecting prey to the dishonorable act. Wouldn't you know it? It's always the woman's fault, even when she is a cow or a pig. Or a chicken.

We know that the chicken is dead (God rest its soul), but what must become of the man is not yet known. Some action will need to be taken of course -- a ceremony and a general cleansing of the village in question. It may also be necessary to eradite further chiekens if those are found suspected of similar transformations.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012


Okay, so this is significantly hotter than hot today. I don't know what to call it. The end of the world? Hell on earth? Basically all I can do is sit in the bedroom where the air-conditioning is and marvel at being hot anyway. Sweating profusely, so that all my hair is wet -- and I don't even have any hair. On my head, anyway.  The hair in my ears is wet. The hair in my nose is wet. I've taken off all my wet clothes and now I'm getting the bedsheets wet.  Beautiful Bali, practically paradise.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Cop Stop

So get this, folks -- I'm driving up the highway this morning, headed for Hypermart to grocery shop for the week, and along comes this policeman on a motorbike.  He points mem over to the side of the road, just on the siding by the police post.

Following orders, I take a quick inventory.  Helmet: Check.  License: Check. Registration: Check. Following road rules:  Check.

"So what's up?" I ask.

"Where are you going?"


"Left or straight."


"Ohhhhh.  Why you in the left lane then?  Left lane must turn left."

"I wasn't in the left lane."

"Oh yes."


"Hmm.  Let me see license."

He takes a good long look at my license, taps it with his finger.

"Hmm, not good."

"Oh yes, good, very good. Just fine."

"Oh ya?"


"Where you get those sunglasses."


"I try yes?"


He tries on the glasses. Looks around.

"You give to me."

"No, cannot do."

"Yes, you give."

"No, was present from my wife. No can give.  She be very angry.  She is a terrible bitch."

"Oh ya!"


"You must simply fuck her hard then."

"Oh ya?"


"Okay, I'll try. But you still can't have the glasses."

"You must give."

"I no give."

And so on and so forth.  Where are you from. Wherre is your wife from.  How long have you been here. Where do you live.  How much you pay for these glasses.

Realizing at this point that he will get no money from me, nor will he get my glasses, he returns the glasses and asks if I have a second pair.

"You bring those next time, yes.  I meet you here.  You bring more glasses."

And so it goes.  Life on the island of Bali, practically paradise.