Singapore's National Day was last weekend. I celebrated by leaving the country. What? The locals do it. Singaporeans are a patriotic bunch but loads of them flee the National Day crowds for nearby Indonesia. That's why we couldn't get a ferry to the beachy island of Bintan and instead settled for Batam Island, which we assumed would also be beachy, maybe just somewhat less nice and correspondently less touristy. Well.
One of the first things out of the mouth of our hotel's guest services rep was "Why did you come here? Why didn't you go to Bali?" The locals seemed similarly surprised to see us, four young western girls wandering around Batam Centre. Taxi drivers would drive slowly alongside us, honking repeatedly even after we waved them away. We were honked at by taxi drivers who were clearly already carrying fares. We were honked at by drivers who weren't even in taxis.
Armed with three phrases in Bahasa - thank you, how much, too expensive - we headed for a nearby mall and bargained for knockoff handbags. The shopping is really only cheaper if you're willing to haggle. Prices are rarely marked on the tags, and the prices quoted to us were clearly inflated. After you refuse the initial price, and especially if you do so in their language, it will drop by as much as a third.
Batam is famous for its seafood, and deservedly so. We had supper at the Golden Prawn, which we were later told is expensive for the locale, but it was good so hey. One of those places where you can see your food swimming or crawling around in its tank before you order.
OUr driver waited for us as we ate, then took us to a nightclub in a building shaped like a cruise ship. I mean, a full-sized cruise ship sitting there in the middle of the city. I'll have to get some photos from the other ladies because for some reason I didn't take any. And my mother will have a fit if she reads this because it's so sketchy, but the driver came INTO the club with us. And then proceeded to call his buddy, who tried to give us beer and assured me that he was "a good man." We didn't stay long.
Sunday was beach day. The guest relations rep gave us a list of recommended beaches and we negotiated a cab fare to one that was supposed to be a fun tourist area. We found ourselves on a tiny, rocky beach next to a rundown picnic area. Back in the taxi, zigzagging across the island, taking in expanses of nature peppered with little homes and shops. We headed for Turi Beach, supposedly a beautiful white-sand beach, attached to a resort but open to the public. Nope. Despite the assurances from travel websites, the hotel and our driver, the resort staff would not let us onto the beach. Instead, they recommended a place nearby that would let us pay to use theirs. After 3 hours we were on a small but nearly deserted resort beach. Honestly I loved every minute of it - that was why I had taken the trip, after all. By the time we left I'd gotten enough sun that I no longer matched my bathing suit, so I'd consider the day a success.
Sick of overpaying for taxis, we looked for a place to eat near our hotel. A couple of street kids came up and manhandled one of my friends so we ducked into the nearest pub - only to find ourselves in the local expat hangout. We chatted with the Australian owner and an English gentleman in a smoking jacket(!) who runs a business out of Singapore. Before we left a tough little Scot who works in the pub gave us advice on dealing with the kids in case they approached us again - "just punch'em in the face!"
I didn't get the vacation I expected. Instead I got a handful of new experiences. I was mystified by a new culture. I struggled with the language barrier. I contemplated the meaning of my relative wealth in bargaining with the locals. I laughed - a lot - at the constant stream of random events, at the unexpected results of every step. The four of us stayed up late in our hotel room, discussing what we could possibly tell people whe they asked about our trip. Our conclusion? It was so worth it - but really, you had to have been there.
