Talk of Yani's recently, reminded me of a couple of incidents.
One night, fairly fresh off the plane, I got into Yani's at about 1.30 am. Up came the large San Miguel, which was the go in those days, closely followed by another. Then it was onwards to my double cheesburger, twice, with chips. The third San Mig was well down, before I thought of paying.
I'd been robbed! Yipes.
I asked for the owner and Nigel appeared. He said just leave your Swatch in the till and drink what you like; saved by a gentleman. Came back next day and paid, no probs and sampled another Burger or two and, of course the sun was over the yardarm. Ah, happy carefree days, before the beer started to trouble the waistline and the bones!
On another night, my driver dropped me off at the turning to Yani's and had to go down towards Kuta to park. When I'd had my usuals, I turned left towards Kuta, looking for my driver, who had gone a fair distance down. Walking along, I became aware of a large mob of locals having a Donnybrook, in the middle of the road; I was almost in the middle of it, before I'd realized what was happening. (San Miguel was known to have a confugulatory effect of this nature). About to retrace my steps, when I heard this little old guy shouting out ‘Ada Turis', ‘There's a tourist'. At this, the rioting factions parted and the little old guy took me by the elbow and escorted me through the middle, unharmed. The idea of Moses and the Sea occurred to me. And then? Mayhem recommenced as the two sides got into it again bigtime, no holds barred! Only in Bali? One wonders who the Guardian Angel of the inebriated is; could it be St. Barleycorn of Hopsville?
One of the most remarkable sights, I've seen was on the Sanur bypass. We've most of us seen the herds of ducks, obediently following the flag of the duckherder. Well, this was a little different as it was geese, 60 or more of them, about three deep in a gaggle of throaty quackulation, following the herder's flag. The difference was that, at the back was an assisitant who, every time a goose left a calling card, it was his job to swish it away into the gutter, using the pail of water he was carrying. Squarp and swish they went,waddling patiently towards Sanur, the poor guy at the back having to duck (!) into the rice paddy to refill his bucket now and then, contiuing his thankless, malodourous task ad nauseam. Poor guy, I wondered if he was given a goose at Christmas, for his troubles? Wonder what his job definition would be; maybe, ‘goose-shight-shuffler'.
There was an incident we heard about, some 18 years ago. A dispute had broken out, between the staff of an established Resturant and a new one next door. The staff of the first place, it may have been the original Midnight Oil on Legian St., refused to work until the matter was settled. It happened that the staff of the new Restaurant had hung ladies' knickers on a clothes-line near the other place, from roof to roof and this was taken to be offensive by the established place, that staff of high caste should have to walk beneath ladies' unmentionables. I didn't hear how the matter was resolved, except maybe the knickers had to come down. (Sorry, couldn't resist that one!).
Recent talk of bloopers on BTF forgot that most famous 'Thank you for your coming'!
More memories later, as they surface.