Paying the right price isn't a bad practice.

Since the whole article is a rant,
here is the cutest piggy bank.

"Hi everybody, I would like to have some graphic design done, it should look professional and clean, from a concept I have in mind. I need it pretty urgently but, since I'm in Bali I'm not ready to pay the Bule price."

Every single time I hear such a thing, my gears grind to a complete halt.
On regular basis, I stumble about this enormous assumption that since one lives in Indonesia, more specifically in Bali, and not excluding Ubud, one should benefit from professional service for a fraction of its real price - guilt free, at that.

Having dabbled myself in the creative industry for a certain amount of years, I'll be the first to tell you that whenever you're supposed to produce something even remotely good looking, you will have to be extremely careful if you don't want to do so while bending over (not really comfortable, neither productive). At a local level though, the bending tends to go so far that poor designers, web designers, creative marketers, videographers, along with gardeners, maids, repairmen and the whole service industry can now fit in tiny boxes without needing to warm up.

Since it's a pretty long read, so here are bullet points to avoid an acute TL;DR attack:

• Choosing cheap over good is bad for industries as a whole
• Economy of scales cannot work for freelancers
• Good, fast or cheap: pick two
• Thinking "You have to be cheap because you're a local" is not okay
• Paying a fair price will help the community, grant you a joy dance

Now, O greedy one, let me count how many times your'e wrong (and explain you why):

1001: Quality or price: your choice influences the whole industry

Offer and demand mechanisms can get tricky at some point, but at this level it remains pretty simple: when you're opting for the cheapest services, chances are extremely high that you will also get one of the worst, and there's a 100% chances that you will never get anything more than a slightly over average result.
This is to say, when you opt for price over quality, you increase the demand for... cheap and crappy services. That's right.  In some extreme cases, this behavior can completely deplete an industry from its skilled workers.

But that's not all. As a reaction to a large demand for cheap and dirty work, services achieving an average quality will rarefy. What goes together with scarcity? A price increase.

Right now, in Indonesia, you can find as many low quality web developer as there is  banyak in banyak minta ampun, but medium quality ones will cost you as much as a top quality service elsewhere... if you ever find them.

1002: Economy of scales don't work for freelance workers

To make is really simple, let's say you're producing cars. You buy a car-making machine, raw material, and you start your production line. Your first car will cost you as much as the raw products plus the price of the machine. After 1000 cars, one unit will cost you as much as the raw products plus a thousandth of the price of the machine. After a million cars, you can sell for the price of the raw product with almost no cost and do the dance.

In the case of creative workers, the machine is their work process. They need to build it from scratch before every project, unless you want to buy the copy of their previous work. If you really put some effort into getting greedy and nagging with a creative (congrats), it might very well happen. But what about a maid? Will she sell you the cleaning she did for the house owner before you? Well if she does, she deserves to be paid for that trick -enough to patent it.

24 hours in a day, so much energy per hours, and a rate for that energy is what you will get for a given price. Only seasoned veterans can work fast and reliably, but they will not do it for a modal fee.

Asking for professional work at the rate of a high school summer job because "this is Bali" simply means "I don't care about your experience or expertise, you are Indonesian so somehow basic economic rules don't apply for you and no it's not racism at all, why?"

1003: Playing fair is awesome.

The minimal legal monthly wage in Ubud is set below USD150. This, is what some of the tourists coming here can spend in a couple of days -or in one evening if they're feeling that way. This is also the electricity bill of a standard villa.

Knowing that, inquiring first about the standard international rates for a given quality (it bears repeating: quality, quality, quality) work and comparing with what local workers will get you is a good start.
For an equal result, there is no reason you shouldn't pay an local graphic designer less than a expat graphic designer who happens to live in Ubud.

For all work that's not creative, you can inquire about the standard local rate before hand and refuse to pay less than USD250 a month, because you have a heart. And do the dance, because having a heart grants you that. Doing so will automatically have you contribute to the economical growth of the area, as in "that person can actually afford three meals a day on their honors".

Finally, if you honestly cannot afford quality work and really need it, and I know it can happen, the good old 'asking a friend a favor' works really well, as much here as it does everywhere else.

Now, forgive my rant, everybody knows I am old, bald and grumpy.
But I wrote it anyway.
Neener neener.

PS: If you want to contribute to this blog, drop me a message here: http://www.facebook.com/brutal.opinions

Places of Ubud: Putri Minang. Have you tried Padang food yet?

Doesn't look like much from the
outside. But just like with your stomach,
what counts is in the inside.

Our dear and beloved Ubud is home of such a tremendous variety of culinary curiosities that, sometimes, it makes it had for me to decide what to eat.

Organic, vegetarian, vegan, Thai, Japanese, Italian, French, burgers, sandwiches, soups… mostly everything is available, from the healthiest to the most sinful. 

Only sometimes, I just want to fill my hungry stomach with generous, cheap and tasty local food. I won't talk to you if you've been here more than a week and haven't tried a Balinese warung. Close this page, go eat and come back later, happy and ready to continue reading.

If you already know everything about betutu, kolobak, sambal matah and the 372 variations on anything babi, you might want to try some Padang food.

There is quite a lot of Padang eateries scattered all over Ubud (and about a billion scattered over Indonesia), but my place of choice is definitely Putri Minang, on Jalan Raya Ubud. 

As in all respectable warung padang, the food is displayed on shelves, in stacked dishes, behind the from window. You'll have enter the place and queue-up to order. You can point and say "this" if you don't know the dishes' name (you can go on an adventure here, everything tastes good).
After doing so, just sit and enjoy, you won't regret it.



Here, some photos:

Tempe goreng at its very best. Portions are large, too.

Not everything in a Padang is made of cholesterol.
From left to right: Daun Singkong, Kol and Urap.

Syaiful is not edible, but like the rest of the staff, he's very friendly.

4 tips to better enjoy Padang food

1. Wash your hands and eat with your fingers. Trust me it's priceless.
2. If it's your first time, go for Urap, Rendang and Perkedel. Rendang is officially one of the best foods in the world, urap and perkedel are its perfect mates.
3. PADANG FOOD IS SPICY, as in DAMN IT'S HOT. Ask for non spicy dishes if you're angry at capsaicin.
4. Prefer going for lunch. The food is always fresher then.
If you're going for lunch, don't plan on a huge dinner. You'll know what I mean when you're done eating.

There, a light hearted food article for your salivating eyes (or similar). I'll do more of these, so keep in touch.

By the way, you know some good Padang around Ubud? Tell me in the comments, I'd love to try it.

Bon appetit!

PS: If you want to contribute to this blog, drop me a message here: http://www.facebook.com/brutal.opinions

Places of Ubud: Seniman Cafe!

Caffeine smile? 

I'm everything but a coffee buff. No, seriously. The stuff I ingest in the morning has nothing to do with organic premium triple pick and relates much better to bitter alarm clock juice.

It doesn't prevent me from knowing when something tastes good in my mouth. And the coffee from Seniman does. Especially their caffeine loaded cold drip, which must be the second most addictive thing I've ever drank (the first one being Jus Pinang Muda, and you won't find it around. Hello, withdrawal!).

I don't just go there for the beans though. Here is a list of why:

• They give out free kue pasar along with every beverage, and I am a dire sucker for these things. 
• The ambiance is fantastic and you're always up for an interesting encounter.
• Their Internet connection is pretty good
• Their rocking-chairs (yes) are awesome (keep your feet on the outside though). 

• Their staff is very friendly
• Although it's a non-smoking cafe, you can huff and puff on their terrace without anybody complaining
• It's right in the center of Ubud

And now, pictures!

That's the cold drop.It's cold, and it drops. It takes a day to make a full cup.

You can take it home. The coffee, I mean. They told me the shelves aren't for sale.

The wares. I like the colors. A shame I took the pics after dark. Or not.

So there. Note that no, this isn't a sponsored post or anything, I just like the place and you totally should go there, like, right now.

If you know of a place with a similarly good ambiance, let me know in the comment, I might review it too :)

Enjo-jo-joy the caffeine!

PS: If you want to contribute to this blog, drop me a message here: http://www.facebook.com/brutal.opinions

What do Balinese Taxi Drivers and Internet Anarchist Have In Common?

Remember, remember...

During one of my numerous late night dinners, at this rather good barbecue warung near Bintang Supermarket (seriously, don't shop there), something peculiar  drew my attention as I was applying myself to devastate yet another serving of chicken.

A couple of thin, long faced white masks proudly harboring a "Fawkes" beard style, embellished with some inventive additional eye make-up were stacked between kerupuk and local newspaper, on sale for IDR 150.000 apiece.

What about Fawkes?

The "Fawkes" beard style isn't called so for nothing. 

Guy Fawkes, a military man part of what we would now call a religious terrorist group, attempted to blow up the UK Houses of parliament in the Gunpowder Plot of 1605.

The 2005 movie V for Vendetta, where the main protagonist constantly harbor a Fawkes mask as a symbol of his desire for anarchist, vengeful and badass retribution has largely contributed to that beard style's popularity… and is at the origin of the mask becoming the symbol of a something much, much bigger: the Anonymous movement, an Internet based activist group responsible for several global initiatives ranging from innocuous pranks to massive cyber-attacks against governments and corporations alike.

"We are Anonymous. We are Legion. We do not forgive. We do not forget. Expect us." is one of the group's motto, one to be believed if you are an Internet celebrity, a cat molester or, say, Israel.

Guy Fawkes white face is now one of the most famous memes on the internet.

Here is the original mask, now a widespread expression of anonymity.
(source)

Now, what does any of this have to do with Bali? 

Indonesians being in general a social media hungry population, it's not surprising to see meme's instances randomly pop-up every now and then. But what made me tick isn't the mask. It's the make up.

With a few drops of paint and a standard white mask, an early 17th century terrorist, the symbol of internet anonymity, the paragon of anarchy, is now officially Balified, for the lulz and, well, IDR 150.000 a piece.
Naturally, questions are now dancing in my chicken fueled brain: did the mask vendor know about the meme? Does it have a meaning beyond being pretty, or disturbing, or weird?

Personally, I am convinced that the person behind it isn't aware of the symbolism, of if s/he is, don't give a rodent's bottom about it. After all, we're not all meme-literate and many of us just won't bother -and well that's not a bad thing.

But here, right here, this Bali style meme show a number of cultural disconnections: Internet versus non-Internet versus Balinese versus non-Balinese.

• Those who know about both Balinese creativity and the lol-based aspect of Anonymous will smile, when those not knowing Anonymous enough to see the derision or actually fearing the group will cringe. 
• Those not knowing about the Balinise often mischievous artistic sense but knowing about Anonymous, even as a nondescript meme might see the item as a proof of ignorance. 
• Those not knowing about either Bali or Anonymous… well, suffice to say that Wikipedia isn't going anywhere. 

You can imagine that, in any case, reactions will be few. After all, we're talking about a rather nice audience here. But this is just another iteration of a phenomenon even better illustrated by the No Taxi Lady.

What with the taxis again?

A couple of days ago, I was grabbing a chat with a long time friend from Jakarta, sitting at Anomali Cafe, Ubud, and saw a foreign woman slowly walking down main street with a HUGE 'NO TAXI' sign held visible at chest level. Said lady looked rather upset if you're to believe anything about facial expression and body language.

But it's okay, it's got a smiley face on it.
Note: edited for anonymity purpose, i'm not attacking anyone here.

"If you don't like it, just go home and stop trying to grab attention", my friend reacted.
I understand his feelings, but I think there is much more going on here.

For as longs as I remember, Balinese taxi drivers have been quite direct about offering their services. If, in Ubud, most of them are polite and non-intrusive, it's a different story down South: they will go as far as following you even if you repeatedly show them your helmet, car keys, or blood-stained serrated fangs.

Here again, disconnection. On one hand, lads who obviously don't come from privileged backgrounds, working to the point of endangering both themselves and their passengers. On the other hand, people who try to escape the mundanities and stress of our modern life, sometimes spending years of saving, being repeatedly offered a service they obviously do not want.

What do taxi drivers and Guy Fawkes have in common, then?

The mask, the tourists, the taxis and the Not Taxi lady are all part of the same problem, the same lack of understanding between radically different cultures. This problem can only be solved through open-mindedness and communication between all involved parties, that's a given. But, there's a but.


Here it is: Indonesians, Balinese, aren't stupid. They observe, they learn, and they process information as well as anybody. Only, their main focus is on their own society -duh. Between ceremonies and work, they will find time to listen to what you have to say and show great interest, especially if you express yourself without anger.

This (and the fact that here, we are a guests), is why it's important that we, as foreigners, make the fist step and initiate the dialog without succumbing to knee jerk reflexes. It's not always easy, and even after 13 years of contact with Indonesia, I still regularly feel my patella tickle. But it's worth a try.



I know, I know, once again I sound like a condescending grump, but before you stop reading, ask yourselves: Indonesians/Balinese are just like us, they have ears to ear, eyes to see and a mouth to speak. We, as foreigners, are all responsible for our collective reputation. What will happen when we're seen reacting without being heard explaining? 



As I see it, foreigners and locals are on the opposite side of the diversity river and, if locals are definitely not inclined to burn the bridges, the building must start from our own bank.

PS: If you want to contribute to this blog, drop me a message here: http://www.facebook.com/brutal.opinions

Confession: I once knew how to talk to birds.

Here is a chunk of my life. I don't usually like talking about myself in public, but I think some may relate.

I am born from strange, strange parents. My father was a professional trumpet player, then, for a long time, the only lawyer on our city whose hair would flow lower than his shoulders. He would defend conscientious objectors, deserters and anyone who had a beef with the system. The kind of people who pay later.

My mother was a painter, the perfect mix between an asocial hermit and your very own spare mom. She was the sort of person who would declare aloud, while lining up at the bank, that "love is more important than money and why are you looking at me like that?"

Details of my childhood are irrelevant until my 11th year, when we moved from a rickety, minuscule downtown studio to a full fledged farmette, lost in a pine forest near the center of St. Nowhere.

Mom decided to populate it.

From that day on, I spent my days in contact with many more animals than I'd bother to count, including 150 kilos of love in the shape of a pet pig.

Things tended to happen a lot, amidst this never ending woods. Understanding the intricate personality of goats, hens, sheep and ducks quickly became my daily task; to this day I still remember how to breed chickens.
We were practically off the grid, living from the produce we grew and gathered.

This mix of 'creative parents' and an every day life permanently connected to nature -want it or not- has resulted in several rather mind blowing revelations; the kind that only happen to you in your teen-age.

I will never forget the sparrows we rescued from a fallen nest, how we taught them to fly and how they would land on our fingers when we called them. I will always remember walks in the forest accompanied by a dog, two cats and, of course, the pig. I will never, ever forget the first time I had to face the unfathomable power of our earth when, one night, a storm felled every single tree of our 500 hectares forest.

It's not until I moved back to the city, 5 years later, that I realized how many, many people we craving for what had been my life so far. Yes I did run naked in the wood (somewhat) yes I did my homework perched in a tree (after which I took naps on the very same branch), and yes I did learn to talk to birds, at least a couple of words.

Yet, nothing is said of the buckets, the dirt, the swampy ground and icy nights, the coal stove, the secluding distance and the lack of drinking water. Searing summers and wicked winters they were. And hail or rain or whatever, the hens need feeding. Nothing more will be said, too, because it was all worth it.

Worth as in "worth paying that price". The price of hot and cold, the price of heavy and sharp, the price of far. Oh so far.

Now, here I am, half a world and half a life away from the farmette. And still I see people craving for the connection, for nature, for the feeling you get when the sparrow lands on your finger.

Some talk to the sky, to shapes, to themselves. Some fall silent, some just can't stop talking. They spin around, looking into their bodies, their sex, their clothes, their speech like a radar antenna.

It might sound patronizing, but I actually am sad. No hatred here; let the sky listen and who knows it will answer. I am not sad at their rites, their terms or their spiraling search.

I am sad because somewhere there's a fallen nest, and nobody to pick it up.

Confession: I once knew how to talk to birds. by Danny Hefer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

PS: Great many thanks to the many great members of Ubud community without whom I would have never come up with this writing.

Ubud Sans Yoga. Yes but why?

This cover is the only thing
Ubud and Ibiza
have in common.

Ubud, Bali is a fantastic place.

I hear myself say that a lot, although sometimes I get somehow confused when my interlocutor  comes up with mind blowing question such as "And why is that?"

Is it the diversity of origins and life stories you find when talking to people you meet there? Is it the eye scorching contrast between the many sub-communities of the place? Is it the soothing warm tropical climate and its corollary scores of topless simians (bottomless, too, as far as I've noticed)?

It's a bit of everything.

Set aside its hedonistic overtones,  the whole of Bali is a giant magnet for post-divorcee, broken hearts and refreshment seekers from all over the planet (or even Australia), as well as a good share of more or less successful entrepreneurs. Since long before a certain movie about Julia Roberts filling her stomach while fornicating inside places of devotions, spiritual travelers have been coming in as many flavors as it take to prepare a raw rainbow fruit cake.

Ubud, while being drastically different from the party oriented south of the island, shares the same kind of attractive power. Ten years ago, when the two streets and hundreds stray dogs that made this little town were known as "The Village of the Painters", Ubud had already become a safe harbor for a handful of peace loving individuals, if only a happy few.

The place is now teeming with life and offers more activities than most of the middle sized cities I know. Eateries, art studios, gyms, music shops and cafes, cafes, cafes for all tastes from the most sinful to the healthiest possible choice, a museum, temples, dance performances, jam session, open mic, salsa and, I'm sure, much more I am completely missing out. Also, a coffee festival, a writer festival, book launchings at every corner, a gong show (I skid you not) and... well, a spirit festival.

Ouch, I said it. Spirit festival.
Ouch, I said it again.

You're probably thinking "Why is that" and the mere echo of your thoughts leaves me feeling cornered. I'll oblige you with an answer.

It is nowadays impossible to walk up and down Ubud without crossing path with several members of the new-age yoga tribe. It is, on the contrary, perfectly possible in some areas or establishment to walk around and see nothing but.

Now, before you accuse me of hippie-hatred (why, never!) or being an agent 666 (or something), let it be clear that, fundamentally, I have nothing against our oh so colorful bohemian flower-childs. After all, you and I are dreamweavers of the totality... Nonetheless, not dissimilar to the everlasting vibrations of our co-creating energies, the new age trend is wrapping itself around the town's reputation like an opaque yet floral curtain.

As to be expected from a large concentration of the same interests, poseurs, quacks and random bullshiters are now on the rise around the perfectly sociable core of the community they pretend to belong to. As a result, some 'profane' blood is now understandably starting to boil in the view of 'sacred' menstrual cycle rituals, several kinds of 'sacred' lovemaking and other third eye openers.

Things being what they are (and even more today than they were before), the same people rise their voices against the fall of Mother Logic and the gradual association of Ubud with a number of those nonsensacred practices. Then, tend to rant and go home, not knowing how to sort out all those blasted dropouts when we're not even done with the hipsters yet.

Here, at Ubud Sans Yoga (cue the family factory somewhere in the Alps), we provide them, you, ourselves, solutions to voice out your concern. You can contact me on my Facebook profile http://www.facebook.com/brutal.opinions should you wish to contribute as much as I wish you to do so.

Ubud is, as said earlier, much more than its yoga/new age crowd and I feel that a blog dedicated to Ubudian's experience about everything BUT new age is the best way to let the world know about how fucking awesome the place is.

Oops I said fucking.
Well, it's a sacred thing by someone's standards... we'll survive.


PS: I'm not selling anything, stop looking.