Naughty Nuri's and the Lords of Bali

We are leaving Singapore for Malaysia tomorrow, but instead of telling
you about what a Chinese guy, a Jew, and a German were discussing over
Tiger beers with a Swiss fellow at the colonial-style Raffles Hotel
Long Bar, I must tell the tale of Naughty Nuri's. This was a story
that developed in the most unexpected of ways.
Our final day in Bali, after my minor and somewhat forced manicure
experience with a young local named Linda, but before my henna tattoo
on the beach, was spent visiting the quaint, artistic and culturally
rich town of Ubud in central Bali. It was a scorching day in what one
Scott Lee proclaimed the "Bethesda of Bali," (Ubud) and we exhausted
ourselves roaming the overpriced (but colorful!) boutiques and
specialty shops of the city for a bit. The city is small, but
overflowing with cafes and small shops filled with art, crafts, and
local necessities - motorcycles, supplies stores, mini-grocery
stores.
After lunch I forced Scott to come with me to the Neka Art Museum,
which overlooks a beautiful river valley just north of the town
center. It was a great museum actually, very relaxing. Ancient and
contemporary art, foreign too but mostly native, is set in small
pavilions amongst beautiful fountains and well-kept gardens. My
favorite parts were the Arie Smit pavilion (Dutch painter still
living in town, about 80 now, who is largely responsible for the
development of certain "Naive" art styles among Balinese artists of
the last 50 years; and the Kokes picture gallery. Mr. Koke moved with
his wife to Kuta beach in 1936, they fell in love with it and built
the first hotel there, and even brought surfing to Bali from
California (Mr. Koke had experience with surfing through his MGM
studios work). They got out just before the Japanese took over and
wrote a book about it, "Our Hotel in Bali." Smit was not so lucky,
serving in forced labour camps across Indonesia and in Singapore
before returning and making Bali his permanent home.
A good end to a fine day right? Well, it didn't actually begin until
we wandered out onto the street to catch a cab around 3pm. There was
a small outdoor pub across the street, maybe 30 seconds walk from the
museum gates, and a group of what appeared to be 5-6 older white men
waved us over to talk. They wanted us to sit and drink! Such an
overture was met with great enthusiasm - we never drink that early!
So it turns out that at that moment we've hit the Bali expatriate
hangout jackpot. Instantly, we are mice among giants, sharing stories
and smiles with the richest and most interesting men, each with their
own unique story. This is a very long story to tell it all, but let
me summarize just a few of the men who came through. Wolfgang
Widmoser is an accomplished German artist with an impressive resume of
shows across Europe, Indonesia, the US and Japan. I spoke at length
with him about odd topics as the afternoon wore on (and we kept
drinking), like war and pain and history, smoking clove cigarettes.
Stephen was another German, quiet and reserved in the corner. He
worked as a journalist for ABC before moving here maybe 20 years ago.
Brian was the bar owner, a Jersey native who spent 20 years in the
printing business before marrying Nuri and basically retiring in Bali.
He still has a house on Long Island, and is loud, obnoxious,
foul-mouthed, and wonderful. Brian bought us many drinks, like
tasteful shots of Stoli with a lime dipped in Balinese coffee and
sugar - they called it the Dolph Lundgren shot (something about the
Russian guy in Rocky?). Chris Gentry was from Portland I think, and
ran Outward Bound on the west coast for years. He's a big guy, and
arrived on a lion of a Harley, with a bloodshot eye and a good story
or two. But greatest of all was Victor Mason, a legend in the area.
Born in England but having spent his life selling booze across Asia,
he has lived in Bali for 35 years, and is on his 3rd wife! Victor
autographed his latest book for us, "Birds of Bali" (he is a
bird-watcher and gives tours now), and was a poorly dressed drinker
smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. He was the best, drinking whiskey and
beer and delivering toasts and rhyming lyrical nonsensical stories as
only a fine old English chap like him can do. Victor even knew Arie
Smit!
The long and short of it is, we got drunk late (or early I should
say!) into the evening, never moving from that gorgeous, square,
wooden communal table (except to eat messy racks of delicious ribs),
and caught a ride back to Kuta with Jeff Roberts and his girlfriend
Gemma, younger expats (American and Spanish) who have already amassed
small fortunes of their own here in the gem business.
What a life! These people sit around and soak up the sun in paradise,
with new friends showing up every hour or so to turn up the energy
once more. They berate and embarrass each other to no end, and have a
grand old time sharing stories and travel tips for us youngsters. The
bar itself was just ranked among the top 20 on the island. The advice
we receive most often about our travels is simply not to try and do
everything, but most of all not to visit a destination simply to check
it off your list.
Needless to say, we were honored to be welcomed into their world, if
only for 5-7 hours.