Part X - So many palm trees, so few dates

Part X
So many palm trees, so few dates

by Mad Dog

I’m bad at bargaining and don’t like doing it, even when the seller gives me a price and says, “You can bargain.” All I want to do is look back at them and say, “And you can give me your lowest price too.”

There are three caste systems on Bali. The first is the traditional one, where the Balinese are classified as either brahman, satriana, wesia, or sudra. It’s not as strict as it once was, mostly manifesting itself in the different animal figures they use for the cremation sarcophagi, the different caste temples they go to for certain ceremonies, or as a taunt, as in “Your mamma wears a sudra sarong!”

Then there’s the caste system for prices. In most tourist areas around the world, it’s common to find a bi-level pricing system—one for the locals and one for the tourists. As long as the price difference is within reason it’s not so bad. I look at it as a tourist tax which they deserve, kind of a hazardous duty pay for having to spend day after day looking at fish-belly white legs, lobster red shoulders, and distended guts sticking out of ill-fitting Land’s End clothes.

Here, though, they have a three-tiered pricing system: Balinese, bulai (white people), and Japanese. It took a while for me to figure out why it evolved this way. I knew it couldn’t be based on wealth, since they’re convinced all bulai —especially Americans— are rich. And why shouldn’t they think that, they’ve watched Dallas, Baywatch, and Everyone in America’s a Millionaire.

Men will be men It turns out the Japanese are charged the most because they bargain the least. I can’t say too much here since I’m bad at bargaining and don’t like doing it, even when the seller gives me a price and says, “You can bargain.” All I want to do is look back at them and say, “And you can give me your lowest price too.”

The final caste system is the strictest, most inflexible, and inequitable one: the social castes. Balinese, tamu (tourists), and expats. It has a well-defined set of rules and, well, you don’t have much say in the matter.

But apparently most Japanese don’t bother playing the game at all. So think about it: If you knew that someone would pretty much give you whatever you asked without negotiating, rolling their eyes, or threatening to walk to any of the 4,987 other stores on the street selling the same merchandise, wouldn’t you naturally jack up the price? It’s free enterprise at its best. Alan Greenspan would be proud. So would John D. Rockefeller, Bill Gates, Robin Hood, and anyone who’s ever sailed a ship under the flag of the skull and crossbones.

Unfortunately some people get caught in the crossfire. A woman I met here who’s from Korea had to go to the doctor because a dog bit her. She was charged an outrageous amount for very little service. Her mistake was in not bringing her passport to prove she wasn’t Japanese, since obviously the doctor couldn’t tell the difference. Apparently he also couldn’t tell the difference between good medical care and bad since he cleaned the wound without ever giving a thought as to whether tetanus or rabies could be a potential problem.

(A SIDE NOTE: Thanks to Hejeya, I now know that my name in Korean is Michingae, ayung is their all-purpose aloha word, and Korea makes 60-70% of the world’s fingernail clippers. Or so she says. I haven’t confirmed this fact and, honestly, I’m not sure I want to. Sometimes I like my little world just the way it is.)

The final caste system is the strictest, most inflexible, and inequitable one: the social dating castes. This also has three groups, though they’re very different: Balinese, tamu (tourists), and expats. It has a well-defined set of rules and, well, you don’t have much say in the matter. Here’s how it works:

When I say Balinese men flirt in the bars you need to understand this is a euphemism. The world hasn’t seen such heavy-handed, obvious advances since the Third Reich marched to Leningrad.

-- It’s perfectly okay for the Bali Boys to hang out in the bars and flirt with female tamu (tamu-ettes, if you will) who are convinced that a holiday fling with a native was included in their tour package, and—dammit!—they’re going to get everything that’s coming to them.

-- Balinese women, on the other hand, are shyer and much more traditional. They don’t go to the bars unless they’re with their boyfriend or husband, and that’s rare since the boyfriends or husbands prefer going to the bars alone so they can help the tamu-ettes get everything they think their tour package promised.

-- Expats are usually hooked up and accounted for. If they’re male, they probably came here with a woman. If they’re female, they probably have a Balinese mate, proving that it’s possible to really get your money’s worth from a tour package if you try hard enough.

-- Thus, Balinese men have it good, female tourists have it good, expats have it good, and male tourists are shit out of luck. In case you forgot, I’m a male tourist.

It's the same everywhere Now when I say Balinese men flirt in the bars you need to understand this is a euphemism. The world hasn’t seen such heavy-handed, obvious advances since the Third Reich marched to Leningrad. To sit in a place like the Putra Bar and watch the Bali Boys in action is a joy to behold. And highly entertaining. Kuta, the beach area to the south, is even more notorious for this. In fact, they have a nickname for them down there: Kuta Cowboys.

Their body language is obvious. After all, no one has ever had to ask a vulture why it’s circling its prey. And even though their English is usually pretty good—since they’ve obviously heard the phrase “Know thy enemy”—sometimes it can be difficult to be certain you know exactly what they mean. For example, when they say “You have beautiful hair”, it’s not that simple. What they really mean is, “Let’s have sex.”

In case you’re a female who’s planning on visiting Bali—or a male, since the Cowboys couldn’t care less if a boyfriend or husband is standing next to their target—here’s a Kuta Cowboy-English Dictionary to help you out:

What they say		What they mean
Where do you come from?		Let’s have sex.
Where are you going?		Let’s have sex.
Are you married?		Let’s have sex.
How old are you?		Let’s have sex.
You have charisma.		Let’s have sex.
Is that your boyfriend/husband/ father/parish priest?		Let’s have sex.
You make my hati (liver) quiver.		Let’s have sex.
Can I buy you a drink?		Let’s have sex.
I forgot my wallet, can you buy me a drink?		Let’s have sex.
Why don’t you ride on the back of my motorbike?		Let’s have sex.
I’ve never done anything like this before.		Let’s have sex.
You like Balinese paintings?		You sure you don’t want to have sex?

By the way, don’t be confused when you see Balinese guys with their arms around each other or Balinese women holding hands. They do this all the time and it’s just a display of friendly affection which is very refreshing. There are, of course, some Balinese men who wear their sarongs a little differently, if you know what I mean, but you won’t usually find them in these bars. You will, however, come across Javanese transvestites from time to time, and most of them look so good you’ll be fooled. For a while, anyway. And no, I’m not speaking from experience, but thank you for jumping to conclusions.

Balinese believe that they get sick when masuk angin or “the wind comes in.” According to them this causes colds, flu, and lord knows what else, which is why they keep the windows rolled up in the car even when there’s four inches of water on the floor and it’s all from their sweat.

If you’re a guy and you do meet a Balinese woman, there are a few things you need to remember, besides the possibility that the only English she knows is “Hallo, mister”, “Are you married?”, and “green card.” First, don’t serve her ice water, they think it makes them fat. Where the idea that ice water has more calories than un-iced water is beyond me, but it’s best not to argue this point. Especially on a first date.

Second, don’t offer her pineapple or banana, they think it makes them “too wet.” I’m not sure when this became a problem, but again, she might misconstrue why you’re ordering that family-sized fruit salad. Or maybe she’s construing it just right. Either way, it’s not a good idea to do it before the fourth date, and certainly not without her village’s permission.

Third, don’t take her to a warung for sate kambing (goat), since they say it gives “manly strength” and she might question your intentions. Or should I say, guess your intentions. Just like anywhere else, you’re better off playing it slow and low-key. Eat some before you pick her up.

And finally, stay out of drafts. Balinese—male and female alike—believe that they get sick when masuk angin or “the wind comes in.” According to them this causes colds, flu, and lord knows what else, which is why they keep the windows rolled up in the car even when there’s four inches of water on the floor and it’s all from their sweat, they don’t use fans even when the thermometer’s higher than their core body temperature, and there are more flu medicines advertised on TV than grains of rice in the average nasi campur, which was very confusing until I realized that flu is another term for a cold.

Oh yeah. Don’t confuse masuk angin with wind getting out. This too is a dating no-no, but at least it won’t make anyone sick. Well, not unless you got it from eating too much fruit salad and sate kambing and paid ridiculous Japanese prices for it. That could make anyone sick.

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