After a lovely, warm afternoon spent at Cheung Sha beach yesterday, I woke this morning to a sudden and bitter cold tearing through the apartment at breakneck speed. Outside the window I could see the surface of the ocean moving rapidly from the strong wind. Walking to the station, people were shivering in surprise at the sudden cold front that has hit Hong Kong.
 
Early winter, perhaps?
 
Not quite.
 
The front page of the paper today explained that China’s Weather Modification Office went trigger happy in its artificial precipitation campaign to end a drought, firing 186 doses of silver iodide into the clouds to force the rain to fall. Seems like they might have gone a bit too far — the campaign resulted in a snowstorm in Beijing which cancelled dozens of flights and caused havoc on the streets at the city’s residents were unprepared for this drastic change in weather.
 
Sounds a bit Truman Show-ish to me — press a button and the sun comes up, turn a dial and the rain comes down. While weather modification is nothing new, and China is certainly not the first country to practice it, I find this event more than a bit scary. Beijing is almost 2000 kilometres away from Hong Kong, and even here we are being affected. The weather agency here is advising people to bundle up tomorrow as they expect the temperature to drop to 17′C. That’s a good 10 degree difference, literally overnight.
 
How can it be that a handful of people almost 2,000 kilometres away have the power to push some buttons and affect millions and millions of people in the surrounding areas without their consent or consultation?
 
While here in Hong Kong we just have to deal with a small cold snap, in many areas of mainland China the snowstorm caused a suspension of shipping, a shutdown of roads due to trees falling onto the streets under the weight of snow, and thousands of acres of crops destroyed. How much money did all these people and companies lose? And what are the chances of them getting any compensation from the government for this weather experiment gone wrong?
 
It also raises the question of what if something went wrong, and instead of snow, for example, it become a rain storm that turned into a lethal flood? Obviously if they can accidentally cause a blizzard, they can accidentally cause a flood too. And of course, surely there is also the potential to use this technology against other countries, if they were so inclined?
 
While we humans can do amazing things to change our landscape and control the environment to improve the quality of life for millions of people, I have to say that the perhaps the power to control the weather is something that I do not want any government to have!

During the year that I was in Tokyo, I only met one Trini, and only got together with him once for drinks. The rest of that time, I never came across a single person from T&T. Strangely enough, in Hong Kong, there are quite a few Trinis, and more and more seem to be coming out of the woodwork.

Last weekend I decided to have a little gathering in the name of Curry Tabanca, and invite my Trini friends over for a huge dinner. I had a lot of spices and chutneys that I had brought back with me from my last trip to Trinidad, so I spent the afternoon cooking a huge pot of curry chicken, along with pumpkin and melongene, cauliflower and tomato, spicy channa, and topped it off with a whole lot of paratha (frozen, bought from the supermarket, but surprisingly good!). Needless to say, it was a feast, and everyone dug in until it was almost all gone.

All the Trinis I know here are incredibly successful, and have really done good. They all work for large multinational companies, some of the most prestigious jobs in Hong Kong, and are obviously very good at what they do. The nice thing is that all of us have come from different backgrounds — one from Tobago, one from Belmont, one from Laventille, and one from San Juan. It is nice to have these friends here in Hong Kong, and to get together for a good lime, and to be able to ole talk with people who know exactly what you mean.

Seiji was quite enthralled by the evening, as it was his first time to be in a room with so many Trinis, all talking at the same time. But perhaps it was good practice for him since he’ll be going to Trinidad for the first time in December. Maybe getting to know more Trinis here will help him prepare for the culture shock he is no doubt going to experience!

Next weekend is our wedding party, and with so many guests and friends coming in from Japan, Thailand, the US and Canada, I doubt I will be online very much. So, expect the next post to be wedding pictures from our junk party!

Many people may not know this, but Hong Kong is the fourth most densely populated area on earth, led only by Macau (also in China), Monaco, and Singapore.

In a place which is 70% mountain and surrounded by sea, absolutely everything is crammed into one place, and with half the population working in the urban areas, everyone has to go out and fight for a place to eat at lunch time. And by fight, I mean that in a very literal sense.

Today I was in Quarry Bay teaching a Business English class, and arranged to meet some colleagues for lunch. However, it was pouring with rain, so everyone who worked in the surrounding office buildings (and there are MANY of them) all had to compete for a table in the nearby restaurants and eateries so they would not have to walk far in the rain.

We went to this little place near to the office, and in typical Hong Kong style, had to stand up next to some poor group sitting at a table, stalking them, literally waiting for them to leave. I was stalking one table, Juliana was stalking another, Annie was stalking a table on the other side of the room, and Silvia was stalking another table nearby. We were communicating with each other by signals — these guys are almost done! I truly felt like a vulture, just waiting to pounce.

Then, I don’t know what happened, but suddenly I just sort of snapped. I couldn’t stand there anymore, hovering over people trying to eat their lunch, keeping track of which table was about to finish eating, deciding which table would get up first and leave, just watching like a hawk, waiting for their prey to die for us to move in. Not to mention the fact that after hunting down a table, we’d have to then go and stand up in a massive line and wait to order. There were people all around, moving aroud like the living dead, monitoring how fast tables were eating. Then two women came and stood next to me as though making moves on the table I was stalking and I started preparing myself for a stand-off if they tried to claim the table once the current occupants stood up.

It just hit me — I can’t do this anymore. Call it claustrophobia, call it a panic attack, but I simply cannot handle the sheer density of Hong Kong anymore. I got so nervous and uncomfortable that I told my friends I had to go and take care of something work related. And I ran out of the restaurant and got the hell out of there.

I think this ultra-density is really starting to get to me.

Ironic, considering I spent a very happy year in Tokyo, and although I often suffered the squeeze on the Chuo line, it was NOTHING compared to Hong Kong. Tokyo is massive, spread out as far as the eye can see. Hong Kong is fighting for space, everyone is fighting for a place, and it’s not their fault. Either you stand up next to someone eating their lunch and wait for them to wipe their mouth with their napkin and stand up, or you simply don’t get a table and therefore you don’t eat lunch. It’s a dog eat dog world in Hong Kong when it comes to eating, and it is really, really starting to get to me.

The other day while meandering through Mong Kok I stumbled across a little old lady standing in a tiny alley selling a plastic hand-held dumpling maker that promised to make perfect dumplings every time. And it being only HK $10, I just couldn’t resist buying it and taking it home to try out.

First step — you take her out and treat her like a lady. Just kidding. Season lean pork and shrimp (all chopped) with finely chopped onion, garlic and ginger, with a bit of salt and pepper, and chopped water chestnuts. Season with Chinese cooking wine.

Second step — grab the dumpling maker, and one of the dumpling skins.

Third step — spoon some of the meat into the middle of the skin….

… and squeeze it together as hard as you can.

And finally — ta-daaaa! A perfect little dumpling!

Frying method — heat up some sesame oil in a pan (sesame oil is crucial — do NOT use olive oil for goodness sake) but not too hot because it burns quickly. Put the little suckers in, and cover. When they start to get a bit crisp on one side, add in a little bit of water. This will steam them. After about a minute, turn them over and let them crisp on the other side.

Alternative method — you could also make them into a soup. Just need some basic stock and some veggies. In this case we used whatever was available: onion and brussel sprouts.

Final product — what do you think? Do these babies look perfect or what?

The verdict — No self-respecting Chinese person would use the dumpling maker tool because it is I suppose the easy way out. But for me, that $10 was well spent.

perfect.

I haven’t written in weeks, which is terrible. Every few days I think, ‘I should write something on my blog’, but to be frank, sadly I don’t seem to have much in particular to report about. So much for the exciting jet setter’s life!

With no more time off scheduled until next month and no upcoming trips, daily life continues as normal, work is same same, I lime with my friends, and keep working out to try in vain to prevent the spreading of my waistline. Not exactly blog-worthy activities.

Well, there is one thing that has been happening a bit lately. I’ve noticed a lot of my female friends are quitting their jobs and becoming what is known in Cantonese as ‘tai-tais’.

I found this handy definition, for those of you who don’t speak Cantonese:

According to website Hello Tai Tai.com, a ‘tai tai’ is defined as  “noun: A term used in Chinese circles for supreme wife (implying situation where a man is  wealthy enough to have several “wives’)  but no longer strictly interpreted. … A Tai Tai is a privileged lady of means.”

The website Stuff Asian People Like simply defines them as ‘Ladies who Lunch’ and enjoy buying expensive brand names, such as Louis Vouitton.

In Hong Kong where people without a doubt work far too hard, people tend to label women as tai-tais with a hint of jealousy, as in, ‘Man check out those tai-tais having high tea in the Peninsula,’ or ‘The only people who can afford to shop in The Landmark are the tai-tais’.

I can admit, I too am a little bit jealous of some ladies who, thanks to their husbands’ jobs, don’t need to work and have all the time in the world: play tennis on Mondays, go to yoga class on Tuesdays, attend a book meeting on Wednesday, try out cooking a new recipe on Thursday, and on Friday go out with their friends. I do sometimes wonder if it gets boring, but I suppose it’s all up to you. You can either sit at home and do nothing, or you can do everything you ever wanted to do.

What surprises me, though, is that all of my friends who are leaving their high-flying big-salary jobs and opting out of the working world are all highly educated and previously very hard working women. They all have degrees — many have their masters — so it kind of makes me wonder… why do so many women choose to be a tai-tai? Has the job lost meaning for them? Or perhaps the job never had meaning for them at all, and they had just been pressured by their families to go study accounting and work for a big company?

I also see the trend in women who have babies.  I know lots of ’successful’ women who, after giving birth, say, ‘To tell you the truth… I don’t particularly care if I ever go back to that job. It’s just a job. But this is my child. All I want to do is stay at home and raise my child the best I can.’

Now that hardly sounds like the words of someone who is lazy or self indulgent. The thing is,  they all say their confession with a hint of embarrassment, with a flush of shame, as though saying you want to be a stay at home mom means you are selfish, you are backwards, all you do is leech off your husband, you are a waste of all that money your family spent on years of university, you are a disgrace to working women everywhere. And it’s a fact — many women look down on women who don’t work. Thus the jealousy towards tai-tais.

The whole situation has got me wondering whether there might be some fundamental differences between what men and women consider to be ‘worthwhile work’. Or what the world considers to be ‘worthwhile work’. It often seems like today’s woman has been forced into a corner. You’re expected to go to school, get a big job, fight your way up the ladder, and somehow find the time to squeeze in a family and be a good mother and a good wife. How on earth is it all possible?

Is today’s woman trying to do two completely different — but two completely valuable — jobs at the same time? Is this why many women simply decide one day to drop out, and walk away from the supposed ‘big job’? And why is it that even today, women’s work at home is still not regarded as ‘real work’?

The reason I’m blogging about this is because I’ve been thinking a lot these days about work, why we work, and whether there are differences between men and women when it comes to work. Sometimes writing helps me sort out my thoughts. I’d be interested in hearing other’s peoples thoughts on the topic so please feel free to drop me a comment.

Weddings in Hong Kong are seriously big business. There is nothing — and I mean literally nothing — more important in a Chinese person’s life than a wedding. Forget about births and deaths and graduations. Weddings take the cake. Weddings ‘buss the bank’, as they might say in Trinidad. Weddings are the be-all and end-all of Hong Kong existence.

Today in The Standard, one of Hong Kong’s free newspapers, I read an interesting article about how the average cost of a wedding in Hong Kong is actually going down, due to the economic downturn.

According to the article:

“Average expenditure on nuptials has only dropped 3.3 percent to HK$226,352, from the HK$234,176 spent in 2008, according to the online Wedding Spending Survey 2009 by lifestyle website ESDlife.”
Now to put this in perspective — at least in Trini terms — HKD 234,000 translates to TTD 184,000, or over USD 30,000. Imagine spending that amount on a wedding, on average! The survey was not talking about the richest of the rich; they were talking about the average wedding in Hong Kong for average people with average jobs and average salaries.

How on earth do they do it?

<<You can read the full story here >>

I myself am planning a Hong Kong wedding, and have been getting a bit of flack about  certain aspects. To start, we’re not having any bridesmaids or groomsmen; no veil; no high heels; no church. Most importantly, there is no banquet.

The banquet is the most important part of a Chinese wedding. Expensive food, shark fin soup, special dishes. It costs a fortune and is meant to impress the guests. But the amazing thing about Chinese weddings is this — you invite everyone you’ve ever met, then don’t even speak to them for the whole night, and people leave immediately after dinner is served! That’s right! No fete, no dancing, no wining, no liming, no socialising. If you are lucky, you might get a bit of majhong. So how is $234,000 really justified?

Anyways, this is just one of the many cultural differences you have to try to comprehend when you live overseas. All I have to say is that I’m glad I have no obligation to spend all of my savings on one day of my life. I’d rather get married barefoot, and live like a king. I suppose there are the lucky few who can do both. In the meantime, I’ll stick with my cheapo small-assed wedding!

We recently moved to a spanking new apartment in a very futuristic looking area of Hong Kong. Because all the buildings are very new (practically the whole town is new), they are extremely tall. We are on the 51st floor, and that isn’t even the highest. Some friends of ours who live close by in another block are on the 58th floor. When you take the elevator your ears pop. Quite a strange sensation. But, at least those elevators are fast. Got to be when you’ve got thousands of people on dozens of floors, I suppose.

The strange thing (or perhaps not strange at all in Chinese culture) is that the elevator does not include any floors that end with the number ‘4′. Which mean it jumps 13-15, then 23-25, then 33-35, and so forth. I guess it is okay to start the floor number with four, meaning there are of course floors 41-49, but there is no floor 44.  That’s because the number ‘4′ also is pronounced the same as the word for ‘death’. This design must be good feng shui or something.

Anyway usually the view from the 51st floor is fantastic, with clear horizons, a sight of the Tsing Ma bridge which connects Lantau with Kowloon, and lovely mountains in the distance.

bird's eye view? we don't see ANY birds on the 51st floor!

Then, on days of bad pollution, which we have been having a lot of these days, absolutely everything disappears into a grey cloud of smog and other nasty things I’d rather not be breathing.

But the truth remains you're GONE....

That is probably the saddest part of life in Hong Kong — days when the air is just terrible. If it wasn’t so bad, I’m sure a lot of expats who come here to work would stay longer, because when the air is clear, it is truly a beautiful place.

Hong Kong must be a terrible place for vegetarians. After all, there is an old Chinese saying that says ‘if it’s back faces heaven, it’s good to eat’. So meat is in damn near everything. In fact, even vegetarian things have meat in them. Only in Hong Kong will fish siu mai (that’s little steamed dumplings) have pork in them!

The next few pictures are totally unrelated to pork, fish, vegetarians or dumplings, but I wanted to share them with you anyways.

The amazing thing about living in this part of Asia is that each place is so quintissentially unique. Singapore looks nothing like Hong Kong, Thailand looks nothing like Malaysia. And when you are flipping through the TV and see a scene, you can say, ‘Hey, that’s Bali’, or ‘Hey, that’s Tokyo!’

Well these are some quintissential Hong Kong street scenes.

Street scene in Sheung Wan -- a plumbing shop full to the brim of merchandise

In the wet market -- the umbrellas are protection against the rain and the sun (and dripping air conditioners)

In a place where tiny alleys are the arteries of the city, everthing gets transported on foot, the old fashioned way

I love the bushy facial hair. Amazing eyebrows.

This shop is so full to the brim there is exactly room for two adults, no more

Something to make those ISO people blanche -- the ever present bamboo scaffolding that can cover an entire building, regardless of the height. And you KNOW those workers are not using harnesses or safety equipment! But, the bamboo seems to work... and if it ain't broke, why go messing with tradition?

Old juxtaposed with new, at the Aberdeen harbour

I think these are the types of scenes that you won’t find anywhere else in the world. I’ve been to mainland China three times and although Hong Kong is Chinese it’s still different to the mainland. These little street scenes may not be significant, but they are definitely the fabric of quintessential Hong Kong, and these are the types of images I will always remember.

All right, so that is a bit of an exaggeration — Hong Kong direct to New York is not the longest flight in the world, literally, but it sure felt like it. (Actually, the longest flight in the world is from Singapore to Newark.) But anything more than 12 hours on a plane starts to feel like the longest flight ever.

I awoke the other day to hear the very shocking news that my uncle had suddenly passed away. Although my family hemmed and hawwed and said that I shouldn’t worry to make such a long journey — especially since I have to do it all over again in December — I immediately got myself on a plane to head all the way to Trinidad. It’s more than a 24 hour journey, which my mother said ‘would be enough to kill someone’. All I have to say is thank goodness for Cathay Pacific, where even the ‘cattle’  (that’s airline slang for economy passengers) get good treatment, good food, unlimited drinks, and comfortable chairs.

So what do you do for a journey of over 24 hours?

On the way there, I took two sleeping pills, drank three glasses of red wine, and went into a 5-hour coma. That was helpful. But that still left another 10 hours on the plane. Those hours were killed by watching movies and documentaries (again, thank goodness for Cathay Pacific!), and reading.

Once I arrived in JFK, I only had a few hours to kill before the connecting flight on Caribbean Airlines. It was strange to suddenly be in New York and be surrounded by West Indians. There are a lot of Trinis and Jamaicans and Bajans working in JFK. On the plane, the woman next to me had a rear end that spread out like a pancake in a pan, such that her ass was actually lifting the arm rest by a few inches. Caribbean Airlines, sadly, is not nearly as cushy as Cathay, but at least it’s just a little over 4 hours.

What has really gotten to me from this trip (now that I’m back in HKG) is the jet lag. I’ve never had it so bad in my life. It’s 3 am and I’m up like a light, and extremely hungry for some reason. When I was in Trinidad it was the same, irregular sleeping pattern, irregular hunger, wanting to sleep at the wrong times, waking up at strange hours of the morning. I must be getting older; I don’t bounce back like I used to!

I guess it takes a while to get back into the swing of things. Tomorrow is back to work and I’m sure after an 8-hour day at Big Blue I’ll be all tuckered out and ready to sleep.

Now I just need to figure out what to do for four hours before work starts!

Whoever it was that said ‘95% of life is just showing up’ is definitely right (Woody Allen, perhaps?). My friend Laura and I embarked on a journey to Bali with a very, very rough sketch of exactly what we would do, where we would stay, and how we would get there, and strangely, we were not worried about it at all. In fact, I am fast learning that in South East Asia, this is the best way to travel.

Play it by ear…

‘What should we do first — go to Ubud, or to Kuta?’ Laura asked me, as we sat on yet another excruciating (but cheap) Air Asia flight from Kuala Lumpur to Bali.

‘I don’t know… Ubud?’

‘Ok, Ubud it is. Let’s catch a taxi when we get to the airport.’

So said, so done. We arrived in Denpasar in a very lovely little airport that looked a lot like a temple and caught a ride up to Ubud, which was about an hour north into the lush mountains in the centre of the island.

‘Aye, boss,’ we said to the taxi driver, ‘where is an area of Ubud with lots of cheap, cheap guesthouses?’

‘Cheap? Hmm. I think Monkey Forest Road is good for you. Very cheap!’

‘Ok, drop us off in the middle of Monkey Forest Road please!’

An hour later, we were deposited in Ubud exactly where we needed to be — the centre of town. The road was very pretty, lots of little shops and boutiques, restaurants and bars, and a large number of young men sitting on the side of the road, smoking, and offering transport.

‘You need a room?’ one guy called out as we hauled our backpacks onto our shoulders.

‘Yes, you have rooms?’ we asked.

‘Yes yes, please follow me!’

He took us into a place called Devi Ayu, and we were pleasantly surprised to find that although the street front of the compound was not much to look at, tucked behind in a garden was a lovely little place with a beautiful pool and lots of greenery.

Laura and I gave each other that look — we liked it.

‘How much?’ we asked the young man.

‘130,000 rupiah a night.’

‘Per person?’

‘No — for the room. Two single beds. You like?’

Again, Laura and I raised our eyebrows at each other. A beautiful guest house in the middle of Ubud? For US $7 per person a night? SOLD!

Well... I suppose it will do. After all, you can't expect much for $13 a night.

Ubud is considered Bali’s culture and art centre, and we were not disappointed. Something I was not anticipating was the excellent shopping. Beautiful wood carvings, paintings, art, bowls, clothes, everything a travelling girl could want to bargain for. The nearby Ubud market was overwhelming — everywhere you look you saw something you’d love to take home. I had to resist the urge to hire a container to ship a whole load of goods back! I wanted to buy damn near everything.

Laura at the market, prior to buying everything in sight

The lazy way down

The next day we joined up with a tour company called Bali 2000 for a bike ride down Mount Batur, one of Bali’s many volcanoes. This I think was my favourite part of the trip and I would certainly recommend this company.

The guide picked us up at our place bright and early and we began our drive north of Ubud further into the mountains. The countryside of northern Bali is just stunning, lush, extremely green. And, of course, the volcanoes and lakes aren’t bad either.

I envy the local farmers who wake up to this view every morning...

We first stopped at a local farm growing cocoa and coffee, and now offering agri-tourism. This particular place was famous for a very special type of coffee — Kopi Lemak — made from coffee beans which have been eaten and excreted by the civet cat. The farm had a few civet cats in big cages and I suppose they eat a heck of a lot of coffee beans. The beans are collected, cleaned, roasted, and turned into what I have to admit was one of the best cups of coffee I ever had. Can’t imagine who invented Kopi Lemak though… how did they even think of doing this? It was damn good, but the farm was trying to sell a bag of beans for US $50. One cup I guess would have to do for now.

bottoms up! no pun intended.

After getting all hopped up on far too many cups of coffee and ginger tea, we were ready to start our biking. This was definitely a lazy man’s ride — it was mostly downhill so we got to enjoy coasting through the little villages and Bali’s famed rice terraces. The towns were just amazing, there was absolutely no tourism there; not a gift shop, not a guest house, just the people going about their daily life, tending the fields, taking care of the kids, making offerings at the temples. Everywhere we went, little kids jumped up and down shouting, HELLOOOOOOOOOO!! They were incredibly cute. I suppose they don’t see foreigners in their village very often.

Down de road

These girls giggled so hard when I showed them this picture on my digicam screen

Now something I never knew about Bali was that extended families tend to live together all on one compound, and all Balinese homes have their own temple and worship areas. I’ve never seen a country where people are so happy about their faith. And I’m not talking about a once-a-week visit to a temple or anything; I’m talking about a faith that encompasses every area of their life. They are constantly doing little blessings and offerings throughout the day and are highly devout and proud of their culture. It was great to see these little villages where everything they do, they do for themselves — not the tourists.

The famed rice terraces

At the end of the ride, we finished at one of the aforementioned Balinese family compounds, and were taken inside for a traditional homemade meal. This is called Nasi Campur – rice, chicken, tofu, tempe (which is also made from the soy bean), bean and coconut salad, and chicken satay. Good stuff.

Unfortunately, time was running short, and the next morning we left beautiful Ubud, and headed down to the coast to check out the action on the beach.

Kickin’ it in Krazy Kuta

Kuta beach is very pretty, but absolutely overrun with horny Australian tourists with bad tattooes and Bintang beers in their hands. We sadly did not have the same luck we had in Ubud in just showing up and finding a place, so we had to walk from place to place asking if they had any rooms. Much to our surprise, all of them were completely booked, so it took us quite a while to find a room! But once we did, we plopped our bags down, changed into our sexy bikinis, and hit the town.

At one of the bars, we met an older Australian gentleman named Clive who said he had been travelling here to surf for over 20 years. He was sunburnt like a piece of old leather and wore a stripe of white sunblock down his nose.

‘I just got these stickers made,’ he said, handing us each one. ‘But check it out — there’s a typo! I gotta take these things back!’

Being an editor, I thought the typos were kind of cool. Can you spot them?

Very fitting slogan for Kuta....

No thank you! No more sarongs!

Unexciteable, in every way…

That night we decided we would have to check out the vibes and find a little action going on, since Ubud did not have much in terms of nightlife. Kuta had a lot of bars, and a lot of great bands playing, but we kept walking until we reached the next area, Legian. Laura and I found ourselves drawn inside the Apache Reggae Bar which was pumping out some Sizzla. After all, two Caribbean girls living in Asia are just looking for an opportunity to wine down de place!

We walked in the door, and were instantly swarmed by a group of eight very large, beefy and semi-intoxicated Australians from Victoria. The club was still pretty empty but they assured us that it would get better, and that the band was great. We were not disappointed — by 11 pm the place was getting more full, the band was jamming, and Laura and I were having a great time showing these boys how to shake their waist.

I did, however, have a little trouble with one of the guys in the group who was as persistent as the lone mosquito that keeps buzzing in your ear as you try to sleep, the one that you can’t seem to hit no matter how hard you try. This guy just could not take a hint even though I was paying him no attention. Eventually he came up to me, and said a line that really flabbergasted me:

‘Don’t you ever get excited about anything?’

Is this guy serious? I thought to myself.

‘What do you mean by excited? Excited about you?’

He shrugged his shoulders; obviously I hit the nail on the head.

‘Well, I’m excited about the party, about this band, and about the music. And I’m getting married in three months, and I’m VERY excited about that. But you? No, I’m not excited about you one bit.’

And with that, he just walked off! After strutting around like god’s gift to women all night, demanding everyone’s attention, he simply walked off to lick his wounds. Pathetic.

But, the fete was good. Oh gooosh, Laura and I wined down the place! I think they never seen bumsees move like that before. I only wish they had a reggae bar in Hong Kong.

Me and my bemo

On the last day, Laura unfortunately had a flight in the morning, we had to check out at 12 pm, and my flight was not until 8 pm. So I decided to hire a driver for the day, and go do some sightseeing and temple chasing.

We jumped in his car, struggled through the endless Kuta traffic, and went to our first destination — Taman Ayun, the garden and temple of the Mengwi dynasty.

It always amazes me how each country in South East Asia has such distinctive styles and architecture. For example, Chinese temples are entirely different from Japanese, Thai temples are different to Taiwanese, and so forth. Balinese temples seem to be quite heavy on the stonework, carvings, and dark wood. I quite like the style of the meru as well.

Exterior of the complex - the towers are called 'meru'

Next destination was the very famous coastal temple called Tanah Lot, known as the best place in Bali to see the sunset or sunrise. Unfortunately it was about 2 pm by then so neither of those was an option. But daylight suited me just fine.

Unfortunately it was high tide, so I could not walk over to the temple in the sea

The last destination — and my least favourite — was the most southern tip of Bali, an area called Uluwatu. The place was overrun with aggressive monkeys, stupid tourists who were aggravating them and screaming when they got too close, and local ‘guides’ who offered to walk with you and protect you from the monkeys with their big stick, for 50,000 rupiah. The temple itself was not much to look at and I’m really not sure why this place is such a big attraction, considering how much more beautiful Taman Ayun was. However, the view from the top was simply stunning.

I bet many a surfer have longed to get on those waves

After Uluwatu, it was time to say goodbye to Bali, and get my tail to the airport to head back to KL. I have to say, just once I would like an Air Asia flight to leave on time… but that seems a near impossibility.

Back in KL, the news of Michael Jackson's death was on the front page of every newspaper -- in Chinese, Malay and Tamil

The glittering Petronas towers at dusk

In retrospect, if I were to do this trip again, I would probably start by spending one night in Kuta to enjoy the beach and the bars (one day in Kuta is MORE than enough), then head up to Ubud for a few days to do more eco-activities such as hiking and biking, then head north to Tulamben for diving, and further to the north-west coast to see more village life. Bali is quite a large island and really has a lot to offer. I think I would definitely like to go again.

What’s that you say? You want more pictures?