Pee You!!!

Slice of humble pie

So let’s get this straight.

You did your undergrad in a good school in the States.
You brought back an American twang with you.
You brag that everyone in the office is so kampong, hence you’re the only one with the style.

Those three things, well, I can tolerate.

But listen here buddy.

Don’t you EVER scream at the cleaners.
Don’t you EVER call your assistants stupid.
Don’t you EVER think that the people at the top don’t deserve to be there.

Just because you studied overseas, have an accent, and claim you got style does not mean you are the shit. In fact, your attitude is what makes you shit.

And surprise, surprise, when I told you these things to your face,
You said, why are you so direct???

Why???

Because I KNOW it took you freaking five years to complete your degree when everyone else did it in four.
Because I KNOW your so-called accent is more hick-ville than Manhattan.
Because I KNOW you did not know what Bally or Zegna was.

So, that’s why! IN YOUR FACE!!!

Finding Paradise Part 2 - Ulun Ubud

Desination 1 : Ulun Ubud

Among the unique things I noticed about Bali was how dangerously narrow the roads were. It did not help further that the taxi we were in was moving at 90km per hour, and was constantly zigzagging around several parked cars in the middle of the road! I thought I was going to die. But when I peered outside the tinted windows and saw the green rice fields or the tiny wooden furniture shops nearby the roadsides, I was at ease. It was, in fact, easy to get distracted among beautiful things, especially among beautiful things in Bali.

We were going to Ubud, a town famous for traditional dances, the bargain markets and the spas. I can’t remember how long the ride was from the airport to Ubud, but I do remember how the cab slowed down upon arriving at a corner of a road. The cab then slowly moved down a narrow pathway surrounded by tall tropical trees, and slowly down into the driveway of Ulun Ubud, a resort owned by a famous Indonesian painter.

When you first stepped out of the cab, you are first greeted by four Balinese men wearing red sarongs, brown jackets, Balinese skullcap and an incredibly welcoming smile. They then rush to pick up your heavy luggage and gently hand signal you to the reception desk, while still withholding a smile in between. Talk about service!

While Shob registered, one of the hotel guys served us this small glass of rice wine. “It’s not alcoholic,” the guy said, but after a few sips of the pinkish drink, my head was slightly spinning. Such a bad drinker, I thought.

The great thing about the hotel was that it was really quiet. All you can hear from the lobby, which was open air and decked with intricate Balinese furniture, was the gentle breeze, chirping of a few birds on the hotel rooftops, and the quiet patter of the hotel crew footsteps. It was serene to its core, and I inhaled all of it in.

Once the paper work was done, the four Balinese men carried Shob, Len and my bags and we all walked down the open-air hallways to our hotel room. Actually, it was more like a chalet, but instead of by the beach, the chalet stood on the hillside and faced an endless mass of coconut trees and a river below.


The view from the balcony

By the river, we could see from our balconies stone cutters collecting and grinding riverbed stones for furniture and housing. It was indeed far better scenery than the usual traffic roads we used to see from KL’s hotels.

But enough of the hotel. Let’s get to the good stuff.

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(Look out for Part 3 - On Hypnotic Dances and Naked Spas)