By Amy Chavez
For The Bali Times
I learned long ago from the Indonesians to always inspect my face in the mirror. The mirror of a motorbike, that is. No place and no time is inappropriate for a little personal grooming, and with so many motorbikes at rest in parking lots and along streets, there is always a mirror available should you be, God forbid, out for a walk when the urge hits you for a facial inspection. Furthermore, a motorbike provides a seat, just in case you need to bring out your eyebrow tweezers to do some immediate plucking.
It was during one of these motorbike mirror sessions that I realized I had somehow gone from having crow’s feet to having centipede feet. It was time to find out what Bali’s beauty treatments were all about.
I rocked into one of my favorite spas, where I had been many times for other things but never a facial. A facial takes an hour, during which time the eyes must be kept closed. Since you can’t see anything, you have no idea what they are really doing to your skin. Unfortunately, this leaves much to the imagination.
The facial started out with a light face massage. As the spa lady’s fingers danced across my face, I felt the way a guitar must as the musician nimbly strums it. Alas, no music was produced and I rather became worried that she might bring out the plectrum and start picking my nose.
Soon to follow was a strange tickling sensation. I’m pretty sure the spa lady had just released a nest of ants on my face and was letting them crawl all over, zigzagging and meandering about, while their little feet massaged my face. Keep in mind that these are Indonesian ants, so small and cunning they can even get into sealed packages. These are ants that instantly invade an empty soda can and lap up the liquid along the rim.
Just when my face started feeling uncomfortably crawly and itchy, I felt suction on my face. This must have been the frog hired to eat up the ants. I could even hear him smack his lips after each suck. Then I remembered the English menu had read, “Take black spot out by vacuum.” Of course, it wasn’t a frog but a Hoover sucking up the ants. Nothing like a good face vacuuming. I hoped she wouldn’t leave any vacuum strokes in the nap.
Next, she said she’d take out the whiteheads. I didn’t know I had any but she assured me I did — they were just hidden. Her trained eye could see them! Whiteheads of what, I’m not sure, but perhaps from the ants that had been decapitated during the vacuuming. These she dug out with tiny very sharp shovels. “No pain no game,” she assured me in her best English.
When I heard the gentle rolling noise of a cement mixer, I knew it was time for the mask. After she applied this “active mud,” within moments my face became unmovable, like stone. So this is where Rodin statues come from.
After the mask was removed, accompanied by a loud sucking noise that could be heard all the way to Sumatra, I could finally see again. My tender face was definitely ready for the next step, “refresh face with cucumber.” I never thought I’d be so happy to have cold vegetables sitting on my face.
Next was “acne care with herb.”
“But I don’t have acne,” I said. But her trained eye could probably see it anyway.
When I thought we must be finished, she said, “Don’t you want to get rid of your mustache?”
“My what?”
“That mustache on your upper lip.” I had never really considered the silky blonde hairs on my upper lip, but now that her trained eye had noticed them, they seemed embarrassingly hideous.
“Away with the mustache!” I declared.
This required waxing, a euphemism for ripping out hairs with adhesive. She painted on the wax, which looks like molasses, and within seconds pulled it off. “No pain, no game,” she reminded me. I looked at the strip of wax with my hairs adhered to it and thought - molasses looks good with a mustache.
I knew it was time to get out of there when her trained eye noticed my eyebrows needed to be shaped. I passed on the eyelid and lip tattoos also.
I was on my motorbike in Denpasar the other day waiting for the traffic lights to turn green - a perfect opportunity for a facial inspection. In a moment, I had brought out my tweezers and deftly removed one blackhead and two stray eyebrow hairs. How embarrassing that I hadn’t noticed those earlier in the day! Just as I was admiring my newly naked upper lip, I noticed something odd. What was that hideous-looking thing on my chin?
By God, I’ve started growing a beard.
When the lights turned green, I turned my motorbike around and headed straight for the spa.
Showing posts with label other interests. Show all posts
Showing posts with label other interests. Show all posts
5.3.08
By Golly, That Ain't the Correct Indonesian!
Amy Chavez
For The Bali Times
Some linguists in Bali are apparently upset about some new trends in the Indonesian language, mainly the increased use of bahasa gaul, or slang Indonesian which is a mixture of Jakarta Malay and Indonesian. Some examples of bahasa gaul are okedeh (alright) or gakpapa (tidak apa apa - no problem) and kasihan deh lu (pity you).
I don’t see anything wrong with bahasa gaul myself. As a matter of fact, I have a hunch that those who started bahasa gaul are Indonesians who have spent a few years living abroad, in the United Kingdom or the United States. These Indonesians said, “Hey Ya! English slang is totally awesome! We wanna have some too.”
On my planet, the US, we have something called Ebonics (sometimes referred to as African American Vernacular English), the language used by some African Americans that has now been recognized as a dialect of English. Rap and Hip Hop music further import new vocabulary and slang into the American English lexicon.
But “Hey Ya!” it doesn’t stop there. There are all kinds dialects as well as slang used around the US. Where I am from in the Mid-West, commonly referred to as “redneck” country, we have our special language as well. In red neck language every noun must be qualified by two adjectives, one always being “frick’n” as in the sentence: “It’s a frick’n nice day” or, “We had a frick’n great time.” When the sentence is negative in tone, either “frick’n” or “darn blasted,” can be used as in: “This darn blasted rainy weather is upset’n my arthritis.” Furthermore, in proper redneck dialect, all answers to questions should be prefaced with “By golly,” as in:
“Have you seen that frick’n scuzball Johnson?”
“By golly, I ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since he crashed my tractor.”
“He frick’n took off with my wife,” he says, banging the front door so hard that it knocks off the “Beware of Dog” sign into his lawn full of plastic deer, gnomes and plastic daisies twirling in the wind.
Dude, like, remember the Valley Girl talk of the 80’s (stop laughing - see how entertaining language can be?), further popularized in Frank Zappa’s Valley Girl song and through the movie Valley Girl? So what if everyone was talking like a Valley Girl for a while there? Don’t have a cow about it!
Or how about the Sloanies in London? Soz darls, but language is sooooooooo constantly changing and evolving. Anyhu, language should be fun, and if Indonesian language can’t be fun then kasihan deh lu! If you can’t see bahasa gaul as a form of embracing the Indonesian language, a way of making it our own, then go ahead and be a geek; I can dig that, but take a chill pill.
The linguists cite interviews with celebrities as one of the culprits of spreading bahasa gaul, in addition to the use of bahasa gaul by TV and movie characters. Oh, whatever! Aren’t actors merely being true to their culture by using the local lingo.
The linguists further worry that people will no longer speak proper Indonesian and that they will not respect it. If bahasa gaul is truly “slang” then it will, like Valspeak and Sloanglish, come in and out of vogue on its own. If it hangs around long enough to become a true dialect, then it will be exactly that — a dialect widely used by many, or maybe even most, Indonesians. But that doesn’t mean it is going to degrade standard Indonesian. There is no reason why bahasa gaul and standard Indonesian can’t exist side by side. Despite the media spread of bahasa gaul through pop culture and even radio (which, after all is a spoken form of entertainment, so should reflect the language and culture of the day), standard Indonesian will still be taught in schools and will be used as a the written form of the language.
Which is why I’m not so sure why some people are so frick’n upset ‘bout bahasa gaul. Gakpapa! It ain’t like it’s taken over the world. Jus like there gonna be English slang, there gonna be Indo slang. What’s the diff? Dialects and slang are certainly not unique to Indonesian.
But what surprises me most is that the linguists have acknowledged that it is the young people who are the ones changing the language. They cite a “crisis of youth” in which the youth - mostly teenyboppers - have the power to change the Indonesian language, apparently indefinitely. Yet young people are never the ones to change the world — not until they get older, that is, and that is when most people grow out of slang. Slang is the hallmark of young people, whom older people really don’t want to be like!
So natural is it, apparently, to want to talk outside of your standard native tongue that recently the word “conlang” has sprung up to describe constructed languages people have invented. There are almost 2,000 made up languages available on the internet now and you can even make up your own at Langmaker.com.
Okedeh. Now, if you don’t mind, evict yourself.
For The Bali Times
Some linguists in Bali are apparently upset about some new trends in the Indonesian language, mainly the increased use of bahasa gaul, or slang Indonesian which is a mixture of Jakarta Malay and Indonesian. Some examples of bahasa gaul are okedeh (alright) or gakpapa (tidak apa apa - no problem) and kasihan deh lu (pity you).
I don’t see anything wrong with bahasa gaul myself. As a matter of fact, I have a hunch that those who started bahasa gaul are Indonesians who have spent a few years living abroad, in the United Kingdom or the United States. These Indonesians said, “Hey Ya! English slang is totally awesome! We wanna have some too.”
On my planet, the US, we have something called Ebonics (sometimes referred to as African American Vernacular English), the language used by some African Americans that has now been recognized as a dialect of English. Rap and Hip Hop music further import new vocabulary and slang into the American English lexicon.
But “Hey Ya!” it doesn’t stop there. There are all kinds dialects as well as slang used around the US. Where I am from in the Mid-West, commonly referred to as “redneck” country, we have our special language as well. In red neck language every noun must be qualified by two adjectives, one always being “frick’n” as in the sentence: “It’s a frick’n nice day” or, “We had a frick’n great time.” When the sentence is negative in tone, either “frick’n” or “darn blasted,” can be used as in: “This darn blasted rainy weather is upset’n my arthritis.” Furthermore, in proper redneck dialect, all answers to questions should be prefaced with “By golly,” as in:
“Have you seen that frick’n scuzball Johnson?”
“By golly, I ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since he crashed my tractor.”
“He frick’n took off with my wife,” he says, banging the front door so hard that it knocks off the “Beware of Dog” sign into his lawn full of plastic deer, gnomes and plastic daisies twirling in the wind.
Dude, like, remember the Valley Girl talk of the 80’s (stop laughing - see how entertaining language can be?), further popularized in Frank Zappa’s Valley Girl song and through the movie Valley Girl? So what if everyone was talking like a Valley Girl for a while there? Don’t have a cow about it!
Or how about the Sloanies in London? Soz darls, but language is sooooooooo constantly changing and evolving. Anyhu, language should be fun, and if Indonesian language can’t be fun then kasihan deh lu! If you can’t see bahasa gaul as a form of embracing the Indonesian language, a way of making it our own, then go ahead and be a geek; I can dig that, but take a chill pill.
The linguists cite interviews with celebrities as one of the culprits of spreading bahasa gaul, in addition to the use of bahasa gaul by TV and movie characters. Oh, whatever! Aren’t actors merely being true to their culture by using the local lingo.
The linguists further worry that people will no longer speak proper Indonesian and that they will not respect it. If bahasa gaul is truly “slang” then it will, like Valspeak and Sloanglish, come in and out of vogue on its own. If it hangs around long enough to become a true dialect, then it will be exactly that — a dialect widely used by many, or maybe even most, Indonesians. But that doesn’t mean it is going to degrade standard Indonesian. There is no reason why bahasa gaul and standard Indonesian can’t exist side by side. Despite the media spread of bahasa gaul through pop culture and even radio (which, after all is a spoken form of entertainment, so should reflect the language and culture of the day), standard Indonesian will still be taught in schools and will be used as a the written form of the language.
Which is why I’m not so sure why some people are so frick’n upset ‘bout bahasa gaul. Gakpapa! It ain’t like it’s taken over the world. Jus like there gonna be English slang, there gonna be Indo slang. What’s the diff? Dialects and slang are certainly not unique to Indonesian.
But what surprises me most is that the linguists have acknowledged that it is the young people who are the ones changing the language. They cite a “crisis of youth” in which the youth - mostly teenyboppers - have the power to change the Indonesian language, apparently indefinitely. Yet young people are never the ones to change the world — not until they get older, that is, and that is when most people grow out of slang. Slang is the hallmark of young people, whom older people really don’t want to be like!
So natural is it, apparently, to want to talk outside of your standard native tongue that recently the word “conlang” has sprung up to describe constructed languages people have invented. There are almost 2,000 made up languages available on the internet now and you can even make up your own at Langmaker.com.
Okedeh. Now, if you don’t mind, evict yourself.
9.5.06
Hendrik Pali: Working to preserve Sumba culture
Features - May 03, 2006
Emanuel Dapa Loka, Contributor, Bekasi
Something disturbs Hendrik Pali when it comes to the culture of his ancestral land, Sumba, East Nusa Tenggara province.
He has witnessed with his own eyes how the place receives inadequate attention from society in general, the government and the church.
"Owing to extreme poverty, Sumba people choose to gather grass for their horses or to take care of their plantations instead of participating in dancing exercises, for instance," said Hendrik.
The simple logic is that first the stomach has to be satisfied before esthetic matters can be appreciated.
Hendrik compared the situation with his experience when he was a member of the dance troupe of (the late) Bagong Kussudiardjo in Yogyakarta.
There he noticed professional values at work. "Instructors were given a cash reward and trainees had to pay monthly contributions. That reflected public awareness and support," recalled Hendrik, 59, owner of the Ori Angu (Embracing Friends) dance studio he set up in 1980.
It is impossible for his group, with school dropouts as members, to imitate the sophistication of Bagong's management. Consequently, his 30 or so students train in traditional dance and new works free of charge.
Originally concentrating on dancing, his studio later expanded its activities to cover weaving for the supply of dance costumes and scarves.
With his studio already established for 25 years, Hendrik continues to be a lone fighter working without adequate aid. Despite his enormous spirit, bright ideas and lavish energy devoted to the preservation of local culture, he sometimes feels helpless in the absence of financial support.
"Fortunately, some tourists often visit us to help our survival. Once we were almost forced to close down," he said, seriously.
Just as he was about to give up, Hendrik related, the words struck him: "If you close your studio, who else is willing to care about this culture?"
As though in the middle of a dialog, he said to himself, "You're right! Culture is a nation's mirror image, without which it would be uncivilized. Isn't it we ourselves that must do something about it?"
Apart from that, Hendrik has maintained his group because dancing has been a long-time hobby.
Born and brought up in East Sumba with its observance of custom rituals, he has been familiar with dance since childhood. His six children share his talent without the benefit of special training.
"They are instinctively capable of dancing," noted the former primary school teacher now promoted as school supervisor.
In his observation, the government has, for a long time, paid almost no heed to Sumba's art and culture, now left to grow like paddy surviving amid weeds.
The government, he says, should support troupes such as Ori Angu, which is only proper because the local administration has always sought his help when it holds ceremonies with regional dances and songs.
East Sumba has various dances, five of which form the basic part of the local performing art: kabokang, kadingang, haramu, wulumanu and putiliku. From these standard dances, new choreographed works have been created for particular purposes such as welcoming guests, making offerings or conducting religious worship, processions and harvest festivals.
However, his preparedness to fulfill such requests requires sacrifices. With his team and dance equipment sent to celebrate official events, he has frequently received only words of gratitude.
"The authorities should provide aid for our costumes and musical instruments. They don't appreciate our needs yet," he added.
The same is true of the church, which gives less thought to how the traditional art can be preserved, while in fact such dances have become its basic requirement. The church has determined to use local art as a means of religious propagation.
Sadly, no aid and other attention have been given for the continued existence of the performances, which are also performed by teenagers in some families.
In consolation, the government has devoted some attention by deciding to include regional dances and songs in the extracurricular programs of primary and upper school levels.
For weaving art, aid has also been made available to weaving groups at low rates of interest.
Meanwhile, better communications and transportation facilities have made the 11,845-square-kilometer island's culture more accessible to outsiders.
Sumba is also identical with its beautiful woven textiles. These handicrafts incorporate unique processes that involve motif design, choice of color, fabric treatment for storage and washing, as well as marketing.
For the nobility, the fabrics have crocodile and turtle motifs to symbolize magnificence, influence and grandeur, which has been preserved by convention.
With increasing demand, though, many craftsmen try to cut corners by mixing colors with chemicals, which can lower product quality and uniqueness.
"If only they used traditional materials derived from plant roots; the quality of woven Sumba fabric would be maintained," Hendrik concluded in a tone of concern.
Emanuel Dapa Loka, Contributor, Bekasi
Something disturbs Hendrik Pali when it comes to the culture of his ancestral land, Sumba, East Nusa Tenggara province.
He has witnessed with his own eyes how the place receives inadequate attention from society in general, the government and the church.
"Owing to extreme poverty, Sumba people choose to gather grass for their horses or to take care of their plantations instead of participating in dancing exercises, for instance," said Hendrik.
The simple logic is that first the stomach has to be satisfied before esthetic matters can be appreciated.
Hendrik compared the situation with his experience when he was a member of the dance troupe of (the late) Bagong Kussudiardjo in Yogyakarta.
There he noticed professional values at work. "Instructors were given a cash reward and trainees had to pay monthly contributions. That reflected public awareness and support," recalled Hendrik, 59, owner of the Ori Angu (Embracing Friends) dance studio he set up in 1980.
It is impossible for his group, with school dropouts as members, to imitate the sophistication of Bagong's management. Consequently, his 30 or so students train in traditional dance and new works free of charge.
Originally concentrating on dancing, his studio later expanded its activities to cover weaving for the supply of dance costumes and scarves.
With his studio already established for 25 years, Hendrik continues to be a lone fighter working without adequate aid. Despite his enormous spirit, bright ideas and lavish energy devoted to the preservation of local culture, he sometimes feels helpless in the absence of financial support.
"Fortunately, some tourists often visit us to help our survival. Once we were almost forced to close down," he said, seriously.
Just as he was about to give up, Hendrik related, the words struck him: "If you close your studio, who else is willing to care about this culture?"
As though in the middle of a dialog, he said to himself, "You're right! Culture is a nation's mirror image, without which it would be uncivilized. Isn't it we ourselves that must do something about it?"
Apart from that, Hendrik has maintained his group because dancing has been a long-time hobby.
Born and brought up in East Sumba with its observance of custom rituals, he has been familiar with dance since childhood. His six children share his talent without the benefit of special training.
"They are instinctively capable of dancing," noted the former primary school teacher now promoted as school supervisor.
In his observation, the government has, for a long time, paid almost no heed to Sumba's art and culture, now left to grow like paddy surviving amid weeds.
The government, he says, should support troupes such as Ori Angu, which is only proper because the local administration has always sought his help when it holds ceremonies with regional dances and songs.
East Sumba has various dances, five of which form the basic part of the local performing art: kabokang, kadingang, haramu, wulumanu and putiliku. From these standard dances, new choreographed works have been created for particular purposes such as welcoming guests, making offerings or conducting religious worship, processions and harvest festivals.
However, his preparedness to fulfill such requests requires sacrifices. With his team and dance equipment sent to celebrate official events, he has frequently received only words of gratitude.
"The authorities should provide aid for our costumes and musical instruments. They don't appreciate our needs yet," he added.
The same is true of the church, which gives less thought to how the traditional art can be preserved, while in fact such dances have become its basic requirement. The church has determined to use local art as a means of religious propagation.
Sadly, no aid and other attention have been given for the continued existence of the performances, which are also performed by teenagers in some families.
In consolation, the government has devoted some attention by deciding to include regional dances and songs in the extracurricular programs of primary and upper school levels.
For weaving art, aid has also been made available to weaving groups at low rates of interest.
Meanwhile, better communications and transportation facilities have made the 11,845-square-kilometer island's culture more accessible to outsiders.
Sumba is also identical with its beautiful woven textiles. These handicrafts incorporate unique processes that involve motif design, choice of color, fabric treatment for storage and washing, as well as marketing.
For the nobility, the fabrics have crocodile and turtle motifs to symbolize magnificence, influence and grandeur, which has been preserved by convention.
With increasing demand, though, many craftsmen try to cut corners by mixing colors with chemicals, which can lower product quality and uniqueness.
"If only they used traditional materials derived from plant roots; the quality of woven Sumba fabric would be maintained," Hendrik concluded in a tone of concern.
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