December/January, 1998
No. 032/VI/97
cover story
Christians in
Paradise
How Christianity came
to Bali
MC-ing a New Year's
Eve party during a
blackout
bali focus:
nusa dua and
jimbaran
The Origin of
Nusa Dua
A fable
People of a
Fertile Sea
The fishers of
Jimbaran beach
Center Stage
Steve Charles revamps
the Candraloka
Amphitheatre
Nusa Dua Nights
How to survive them
The Sacred
Wilderness
Colonial encounters with
Bali's southern peninsula
arts and
culture
Latter Day
Laksamana
A.A.M. Djelantik's
recently launched
autobiography
Kulkul
new Fiction by Gde
Aryantha Soethama
The Rat Pack
Who are Bali's literati?
beyond
bali
An Eddy in The
Counter of Time
Kayaking off the west
coast of Lombok
Slick and Cool in
Sengigi
Round midnight at the
famed Lombok resort
regular
Fashion
Adventure
Into the blue
Food
Jewel of the southren rim
Jungle Drums
Bali Update
On the Road
Home Grown
Made Adi Putra
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We all have New Year's Eve memories, some good, some bad, lots of indifferent ones. I have spent many an exhausting New Year's Eve in Bali, braving traffic, rain sometimes, crowds always, searching for the ultimate spot to celebrate the approaching year.
Last year a fierce storm blacked out most of southern Bali, as I found myself headed for Nusa Dua where I had been asked to emcee a glittering party. "Nothing to worry about" they had told me. "Bring a date, join the party, eat, drink, celebrate and just offer the crowd a few words of encouragement as the night progresses."
Easy. Entering the lobby of the massive 5-star resort, my date and I were quickly lost in a sea of party goers decked out in elegant black and white. I spotted a friend. He'd been offered the same deal. Knowing he was a practiced hand and I had never done this before, I was unnerved to see him nervously shuffling through a wad of notes.
"Am I supposed to have a prepared speech?" I asked, the fear building and clearly showing on my face. "No, not necessary, but I like to have something in reserve in case the party's dying," he replied, somewhat smugly I thought.
An harrassed hotel management type person approached, "Great, you're here," he said checking out my date who'd managed to find one shirt with a collar, and then outfit, which had suffered somewhat in the leaking car. "Everyone's going in quickly, quickly, you know what you have to do?"
No, what do I have to do? I started to really sweat at this point, despite the sub-zero air conditioning. Approaching the room, I thought certainly they've given me the small, spillover room, my friend has much more experience than I do.
I almost turned and ran as we entered an enormous room dripping in chandeliers and festooned with all the forced gaity of a mandatory New Year's Eve celebration. "There must be three hundred people in this room," I shrieked, clutching the arm of my date as if on the verge of collapse.
"Three hundred and twenty to be exact, your friend got here first and chose the smaller room, because we put all the English speaking guests in that room," replied the harrassed management person, who had by this time pulled his demeanor together and was snorting through his nose at me.
"Do you mean these people don't speak English? Where do they come from?" I asked. " Oh about 75% of them are Japanese the rest are Russians," he replied leading my date and I through a back door into a staff area.
Now hang on a minute. Things were not shaping up at all the way I thought. I'm doing them a favour - and in any case I only know elevator-speak in Japanese - "thank you very much, please come again" - and as for my Russian.... I realised at that point that I was in deep s..t.
"Where is our table?" I bravely ventured as he placed a chair against a bare table in the staff area. "Oh you can eat and drink all you want after the party, we have a special set up in the coffee shop downstairs for after. Please have a drink in here and follow the program, if you have any questions let me know," replied Mr Management with a definitely dismissive look in his eye.
A drink? how about twenty large ones! I looked apologetically at my date who thankfully was finding these events wildly amusing. The chef was a friend of mine, so we were surreptitiously fed in the back. An endless feast of consommes, lobster tails and beef tenderloins were swallowed appreciatively with at least twenty of those large vodkas that never seemed to kick in.
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