Tokyo Blond Is Not Porn

Tokyo Blond is not a porn blog, about hair or even, as one pithy friend remarked, a micro beer or late 1980s glam metal band ("Dude, I just saw Skid Row and Tokyo Blond opened and played a killer set").


The purpose of this blog is to chronicle my experiences in Tokyo - poignantly, visually, irreverently - for fun.


Anybody can tag along...that is if I like you. This blog will endeavor to be entertaining and honest and frequent enough to keep those following interested including me.


Wednesday, May 30, 2012

It's a Jungle Out There - No Really

Our final full day in Sayan, we decided to take advantage of the plunge pool.  We were paying for it after all.  We discovered it had more uses than just jumping into it naked, after dinner.  So we spent the day in or around our plunge pool, ordering room service and finishing the books we had brought.  It was delightful, especially when we saw the giant lizard.

I was in the pool, holding onto the side while I scanned the jungle on the other side of the river below, when suddenly a lizard the size of my dog Ranger, popped up into my vision about twenty feet in front of me.  He was crossing our property on his way to lunch apparently.  He looked as surprised to see me as I did seeing him.   I whispered to Russell urgently, "Russell!, Russell!, Come here but don't make a sound."  "Huh, What!" he said splashing obstreperously over to me.  That's all it took to frighten the humungous six foot lizard away.  He lumbered into the jungle right beneath our plunge pool and down the slope towards the river.

Russell said in stunned awe, "I think that was a "Kimono Dragon".  After admonishing him for making such a racket and scaring the dragon away, although truth be told I was kind of relieved, I said, "Um, honey, I'm pretty sure it's not a Kimono Dragon.  I think it's a Komodo Dragon, or something like that.  I wonder if they eat people." 

We immediately retreated to our laptop and Googled: Do Kimono Dragons eat people?  Apparently Kimono Dragons don't, (because there is no such thing. I'm right. Again) but Komodo Dragons have been known, on occasion, to attack people, but it's very rare.  There are about 4,500 Komodo Dragons in the world and over 90% live in Indonesia.  Interesting.  Hey we're in Indonesia.

Turns out there's a large national park on Bali that not only has Komodo Dragons but Jaguar's too, And I'm not talking about the kind with four wheels.  How cool is that?!  Russell looked concerned for a minute, like I might make him go there or something.

For dinner that night we returned to the resort restaurant and shared the Balinese Rijsttafel, which is like an Indonesian smorgasbord, consisting of several savory plates.  They'd been pushing this ever since we arrived.  Thank goodness we shared; it was enough for an entire Balinese household, but delicious.

I reminded Russell that we had actually had this before on our trip to Amsterdam.  Apparently there is a large Indonesian population there.  But all he could remember about our Amsterdam trip was the pancakes, the statuesque blonds, the river and the coffee shop.  Yes, as in where you can buy pot legally.  He wouldn't go in.

Pretty Balinese girls serving the plethora of Rijsttafel dishes.

The restaurant.

The sated diner.

The Jungle.  Looks like a scene out of LOST.

The next morning we had arranged for a trek with the activities desk.  We thought it would be a fitting last hurrah before moving to the beach side property at Jimbaron Bay.

As usual, I found myself waiting for Russell that morning.  So I walked up the spiral staircase to the rooftop lily pond to amuse myself with the frogs and fish.  When I leaned over the side to peer into the lily pond I discovered the queerest thing.  It was a frog hanging upside down.  It took me a minute to realize what it was. "Why is that frog hanging upside down?" I wondered.  "Its it dead?" And then it moved, and then I realized it's not merely hanging up side down, it's hanging by one leg, from the mouth of a snake, a colorful snake.   "Colorful", in snake talk, generally means "poisonous."  "Holy shit!  That's a snake!!!"  

The snake was dragging the frog into its hole which was midway up the side of the concrete encasement of the pond, also known as our roof.  How nice.  Apparently we weren't the only tenants here.  Russell showed up just in time to see the last tug of the frog, into the lair, to be swallowed whole.  "It really is a jungle out here." I quipped.

A little shaken, but exhilerated, (I love seeing nature - circle of life - and all that), we clambered up the hill to the spa to meet our Trek guide.  She was a Balinese woman who spoke perfect English, had perfect teeth, and lived in the adjacent village.

First she handed us a cool, scented towel and asked us if we wanted any water.  I was bemused and doubtful.  I didn't really think this was going to be a serious hike so I found it amusing she was already offering us water.  I politely declined.

She lead us through the resort property to a side we hadn't ventured to before, past the kitchen gardens and educational rice paddy.  We stopped for a second to learn how they grow and harvest rice.  Interesting.

Garden.

Educational rice paddy

A closer look at the baby rice growth.
It ends up looking like tall stalks of wheat when it's ready for harvest.

Then she lead us past two villas that looked out onto a rice paddy field, flanked by jungle, and explained how these were the two villas Julia Roberts and her family, as well as, her co-star Javier Bardem, had stayed in while filming Eat/Pray/Love.  "Really!" Now that is interesting!  Apparently Julia had an entire entourage of staff including three nannies, but she was very nice.

We stopped for a minute to take in Julia's view.  Not bad, expansive, private, lush.

Julia's view.

Julia's neighbor.

Then we traipsed across the rice fields, avoiding the water by traversing a narrow strip of dirt, climbed up a steep incline and started lumbering through the jungle.  The grass was tall, flanked by palm trees and vines that threatened to strangle us.  We followed a barely legible footpath.  "Um, is this safe?" I wondered as my bare flesh parted the grass.  I can only imagine what bugs would be attaching themselves to my calves.



Into the jungle.

But then I became distracted by the variety of plants and flowers.

Pretty.

Look, twins!

I wonder if these will grow in Tokyo?

Along the way our guide pointed out some of the plants and explained which ones were edible and which ones had medicinal uses.  "Which ones can you smoke," I wondered.  She explained how the jungle had everything they needed to survive.  I bet it does.  I've seen the lizards.

Soon we emerged from the jungle into a field where an old Balinese man was working.  He was wearing a sarong.  "How authentic." I thought.  It turns out he was related to her husband in some way.  It turns out everyone is, we soon discovered.  

Skirting the field were a couple of open air buildings where he keeps his farm animals and pet dog.


What are you lookin at?


Is it time for my milking?

She took us across the fields and explained the various crops growing there, mostly rice.

Crops between the jungle.

I was sweating profusely by this time so when she handed us another cool, scented towel and water, I accepted both gratefully.  

She led us up a steep embankment fraught with mud and twisting roots.  At one point we literally had to hang onto roots to lower ourselves down the other side.  I thought, Ok, maybe this actually is a trek, as sweat dripped in a torrent down my back. 

But the view from the top was spectacular.

Nice view.
I'm queen of the world, or at least the jungle.

Then she took us to the village's sacred watering hole.  Apparently this is where the villagers go when there's a full moon, and to cool off, and to give thanks, and to deposit their trash.  Trash?!  I couldn't believe how much trash there was.  I deliberately tried to take pictures where there was the least amount of trash.  But it was hard to do because there was trash everywhere!  Snickers wrappers and discarded chip bags littered the area around the pool and the alleged shrine.  Abandoned water bottles congested the pool itself and collected mud and moss at the bottom.  Yuck!

Sacred man made waterfalls.

Sacred pool.

I couldn't believe how much crap was in their "scared pool", more like "sacred trash dump."  Our guide was so nice and very informative.  I wanted to ask her about the trash but seeing how this was her village, I didn't want to offend her.  I very gingerly mentioned how surprised I was that people would litter at this sacred place.  

She very nonchalantly dismissed the trash with wave of her hand, "Oh, we burn it." She said, very matter-of -factly, not giving it a second thought.  When? Once in a blue moon I thought, miserably.

Then she went on to explain how before there was plastic or plates, the jungle provided everything they needed to survive.  She tore off a banana leaf from a nearby tree and showed us how it would become their plate and their spoon.  Once the meal was over, they would just throw the used banana leaf on the ground.  Ok, that makes sense, a banana leaf is biodegradable.  Unfortunately plastic is not.  Apparently they hadn't clued into this yet.

Apparently this is a shrine, not a trash compactor 
as it could have been easily mistaken for, given all the rubbish.

After the trash heap she lead us across a precarious bridge made of bamboo logs, pointing out the Balinese irrigation system that allows them to farm rice all over the island.

Um, is this safe.
Are those waters pirana infested?

It looks benign enough.  
But I still don't want to swim in it.

And then we scurried up one last sun kissed embankment before entering into the traditional Balinese village.

The last hill, thank God.

More shines, and grumpy dogs greeted us, as we made our way down the trash riddled streets towards the Balinese village.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

Gates of the community shrine.

Just one of several grumpy dogs we encountered.
At least it has all its legs.

At least these dogs seemed to have homes I thought.  I had counted at least twenty five depraved looking dogs on the hour and half drive to the resort the first day we arrived.  Still, I ruminated, It wasn't as bad as Thailand where all the dogs seemed to be missing appendages.  I meekly inquired about the stray dog problem.  To which she guilelessly replied, "Oh, there's a lot less dogs since they came around and shot all the strays last month."  Gulp.  I did not just hear that, did I?  I stole a tormented look at Russell, who gave me the, "why did you even ask," look.

Just then a toothless Balinese man passed by on a motor scooter and waved.  Turns out, she knew him, another cousin.  

And then we arrived at the traditional Balinese compound she was to give us a tour of.  Truth be told I felt a little uncomfortable walking through someone's home.  It wasn't like this was a mock compound, designed for educational purposes.  This was her sister-in-laws.  I felt like we were intruding.  Although, it was interesting.

It reminded me a little of the traditional Spanish Hacienda of olden times.  I'd seen them on field trips in my youth. Los Angeles used to be a giant Mexican ranch before we killed everybody in the Mexican/American war.  Like Mexico or Spain, the entire Balinese family lives within the courtyard walls.  The Balinese compound is based on the human body.  All compounds include the same basic structures, and layout, which represent parts of body.  

In fact, the basis of the measurements of the compound are actually taken from the male head of the household.  Large man - large compound.  Small man - small compound.  My advice - marry big.  There's the Lawang (entry gate), Paon (kitchen), the Bale Daja (head of the household quarters), Bale Duah (guest house), and the Bale Dangin (ceremonial patio) and of course multiple shrines.  The Bale Dangin was the most interesting to me.  A Bale is a covered, raised patio, they are everywhere in Bali.  The Bale Dangin is a covered patio in the center of the compound, where all major family events occur.  And I'm not talking BBQs and cocktails.  Getting married? You do it in the Bale Dangin.  Having a baby, you do it in front of the family on the patio.   Dying? You do it on the patio.

In Bali, unless your new husband can afford his own compound, the wife always has to go live with his in-laws.  Good thing I don't live in Bali.






Lawang - entry gate.
The compound.

Bale Dangin.
All purpose patio: weddings, birthings, BBQs.

Russell and I used to live in a compound.  When we moved back to LA from Virginia, Russell leased a small spanish bungalow right off Sunset.  Until I arrived all I had seen were polaroid pictures Russell had taken.  He made it sound so romantic, right off Sunset, across from the Chateau Marmont.  Our friends Karin and Tom showed up the day I arrived from the airport with a bottle of champagne to welcome us back.  I cried when I saw the place for real.  Compared to our 4,200 square foot, brand new Toll Bros home on a quarter of an acre, this place was a dump.  They had to go out and buy another bottle.

But I digress, after the compound she swung us by a gift shop and an art gallery of one of her friends, probably another cousin.  Even here, in this authentic place, there's still a little shopping coercion, kind of like a museum gift shop.  You want a keepsake?  Buy a poster.


Yet another shrine, although this would make a great poster.

And then our tour was over and she lead us through a secret gate that opened up right onto the resort property.  We realized we had made a big loop around the resort.


Secret door back to civilization and cocktails.

She left us at the lily pond at the top of the resort with another bottle of water, a cool towel and an indelible impression of the true Bali.

Ugh this t-shirt, that I bought in Thailand, makes me look dumpy.
But I did just trek through the jungle.



Monday, May 21, 2012

Romantic Dinner for Two

That night the hotel was hosting a cocktail party for those who had just arrived.  It was held at the riverside pool, where we had lounged all day.

The pool had been glamourized and glowed magically with lollipop lanterns and floating candles.  About a half an hour later we glowed too.  They kept refilling our wine glasses before the condensation could evaporate.  The wine was OK, but it didn't really matter after the third glass. 

We spoke to both resort managers and, an exceptionally knowledgeable and friendly woman, who had worked for the Four Seasons for 12 years, pretty much since puberty. Russell told her my goal of staying at all the Four Seasons and she shared her thoughts on some of the best properties.  She had actually lived for two years at both Four Seasons Maldize properties.  You know the ones in the travel magazines that look like idyllic huts suspended over mesmerizing cerulean waters - yeah those.  We were amazed and enchanted.  Course the wine helped.

Aglow with amazement

Floating candles
These look nothing like the Pier 1 kind I own.

Super friendly, super smiley, Balinese musician

But our evening of enchantment had just begun.  Russell had arranged for a private dinner at the lily pond at the top of the resort.  We had done something similar, dinner on the sand, at the Hualalai property in Hawaii several years ago.

Follow the yellow lights...to paradise.
Sounds like a Jimmy Buffet song.

Yes, we'll take the table for two amidst the candlelight.

Nice.

This reminds me of wedding cake for some reason.
Imagine if all those petals were made of sugar,
or better yet: marzipan!

Our server was a wizened Balinese guy with extra white teeth.  They all seemed to have very white teeth.  Was this a hiring prerequisite, or did their dark skin just enhance their smiles, kind of like red lipstick does mine?

The waiter was discreet.  Russell and I ordered a bottle of wine and held hands between courses.  The food was good but the ambiance eclipsed the food.  Bats flew by, sabotaging insects drawn to the light, as frogs serenaded us from the lily pads.

The moon was almost full, and it cast an ethereal glow upon us as it cascaded affectionately across the stillness of the lilypond. It was ridiculously romantic; better than the website pictures. The only thing missing was music. That's when I started singing Bali High from the musical South Pacific.  You know the one.  

We couldn't get that song out of our heads the rest of the night.

We almost look like honeymooners.
Well, except for the wrinkles and mortgage.






Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Welcome to Bali - Grab a Trash Bag

Russell and I haggled over which property in Bali to go to.  We were only going to be there for six days, and since it takes a day to get there, we wanted to ensure maximum relaxation.  We weren't going there to see temples, museums or shrines.  The only shrines we'd be paying homage to would be the pool and the bar.

In the end we decided to spend three nights at the Four Seasons Sayan river property and two nights at Jimbaron Bay on the beach.  

Upon arriving at the airport we were immediately solicited by "government" workers to come to their window to pay for our "Visa".  Unlike most countries where you have to apply in advance, in Bali, you pay when you arrive.  California should consider this; it might ease some of the budget issues.

Temporary Visa - aka toll.

Then we were accosted by seemingly hundreds of taxi drivers.  It was beginning to feel like Cabo; I held my purse tighter.  But thankfully the Four Seasons representative met us and lead us through the labyrinth of an airport, apologizing for the construction and consequential long walk.  He handed us off to the driver.

The parking lot was filled with more mopeds and motorcycles than I've seen in my entire life.  The roads were crammed with them as well.  They were everywhere, zipping in and out of traffic indiscriminately, some with two, three, even four people hanging off them.  "And what's the deal with the jackets?", we wondered out loud.  It's 90 degrees outside and these people are dressed for Fall in Maine.  We asked the driver.  He told us they were wearing jackets because in the morning it gets cold.  Really? You mean 80?  It was 4pm with 80% humidity.  I concluded he was seriously wrong, perhaps the government required them as a rash guard.  But this seemed unlikely, considering it was obvious helmets weren't required.

More motorcycles than a Hog convention.

They're everywhere!
Are there no traffic rules here?

Where'd this come from?
Suddenly we're in Rome.

It took an hour and a half from the airport to get to the property and we saw more than I wanted to see along the way.  The buildings were interesting and the multitudes of shops selling statues and shrines were intriguing, even the side walk markets selling odd fruit were fun, but in all my fantasies about Bali, cabana boys, exotic drinks, lush jungles, none of them included piles and piles of trash, emaciated stray dogs, wild chickens, or women washing clothes in suspiciously murky gutter water.  This was not the Bali from Eat/Pray/Love.  The over-ladden motorcylces and filthy villages filled with diseased dogs made me wildly uncomfortable, and Russell had been concerned about tourist bombings. Ha!

I was relieved when we finally made it to the property.  It was beautiful and clean.  Thank goodness.  We both breathed a sigh of relief, determined to get a cocktail as soon as humanly possible.

Entry to the hotel.
Me, inquiring about the nearest bar.

Welcome lily pad.

After offering us a chilled drink at reception, (tragically non-alcoholic), and an even cooler towel, they transported us, in a golf cart, to our riverside villa.

The design of the villas was clever. It had its own lily pad on the roof.  You entered from the roof and traversed a spiral staircase down to your villa below.  The plunge pool awaited.

Our outdoor living room.


Uh yeah, this will work.
Just look at that jungle.

Sleeping arrangements.

I do love a bath.

We quickly unpacked our bathing suits and the bottle of wine we had brought from Tokyo.  The plunge pool went perfectly with the Chardonnay.  They were both chilled just right.

The hotel lobby had live entertainment in the form of traditional Balinese dance that evening, so we started our first night off with that.  The dancing was what I thought Thai dancing would be like.  The women wore brightly colored sarongs and shimmering head dresses.  They told stories with their eyes and hands.  They seemed like cartoon characters the way they over-emphasized their eye movements.  It suddenly occurred to me, they looked just like those ancient statues from India.  Hmmm, now I get it.

Shifty eyes

and hands

After the dance we ambled down to the hotel restaurant where we were both presented with a flower.  Pretty Balinese girls placed them in our hair, even Russell's.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.

Suddenly I feel I'm on vacation.
Could be the flower.

Russell had the special roast suckling pig and I had the special roast duck.  Both were accompanied by a cornucopia of Indonesian side dishes, including shrimp chips.  They were especially addictive. After dinner we walked around the property and took pictures....

Nice lighting.

This is the fitness center.
I'll be here tomorrow morning.

Our villa top lily pond

We spent about 20 minutes watching the frogs and fish at our rooftop lily pond.  I do like frogs.

Turn down service.

With flowers for the bath.
Now, that's nice.

The next morning I woke up early and let Russell sleep while I took pictures and worked out in the fitness center.  I was the only one there, except for the attendant who kept coming over with chilled towels and water.  Was I sweating that bad?  Apparently, yes.

The deck was covered with water from an overnight rain.
Just like Camelot.

Rooftop lilys in bloom

This looks fake.

Neat jungle flowers.

Walkway from our villa.

Care for a banana?

Morning sun streaming through the jungle.
We're not in Kansas anymore or Tokyo.

The river below.

After breakfast, which was great and included in our package, we spent the rest of the day at the riverside pool. It was very surreal listening to the roar of the river, reading the Hunger Games, and watching the occasional Japanese rafting group squeal by.

Our private spot on the deck just above the river.

Yeah, this don't suck