Hiccups, first world problems, and the value of saying thanks

The other day somebody told me of a fellow in Lombok who built bungalows like ours and with the first wet season the bungalows collapsed.

They just, fell down.

I pray I won’t have a nightmare story like that to share any time soon!

Life is full enough of dramas and tragedies, but thank buddha our building journey was remarkably smooth.

Our builder Saeun and his team do not qualify for my Dodgy Dudes series! Instead they were decent dudes who delivered. Sure, there were a few hiccups along the way, but none to write home about.

So I’ll share them with you here instead 😉.

One of the hiccups occurred even before we started building, and I was largely to blame.

It was the day we had arranged to pay Saeun his first deposit. We also had two meetings with different lawyers that same day, and had to go to the bank prior to withdraw a large amount of cash to pay for them all.

It was Friday, the main day of prayer, and Saeun drove the hour from his home to Made’s, so that he could then drive the hour back and deposit the cash into his account before the bank closed around midday.

We sat on Made’s berugak in typical meeting style; cross-legged with small glasses of coffee and copious cigarettes (neither of which were for me). I gave Saeun the cash we’d just withdrawn at the bank.

“I think the bank is better at counting than me,” Saeun said, looking at the many neat stacks of bills wrapped in elastic bands.

“Me too!” I said, glad not to have to count the endless millions.

Saeun smiled, we all trustingly shook hands, excited to be embarking on this tremendous journey together, and he gave us an official, stamped, receipt.

Off he rushed to get to his bank, and after Made finished his coffee and cigarette we climbed onto our Scoopy moped and headed to the lawyer’s office.

Before we reached the main road, a faint, distant alarm bell started to ring. According to the calculations in my fuzzy brain, I had a funny feeling that there were more piles of bills in my backpack than there should’ve been.

“Made,” I yelled into his ear and the wind.

“Either I’ve underpaid Saeun, or the bank has given us too much money!”

I figured the latter was highly unlikely but my mathematics was too rusty to deal with it while on the back of a moped. All the zeros in Indonesian money can do your head in at the best of times. Made agreed we’d check it later, because although we were running late, we only expected to be in the lawyer’s office for 15 minutes.

Unfortunately that meeting turned into two hours, during which time Saeun tried repeatedly to call me (and luckily managed to sms with Made).

Poor Saeun had returned home to his excited wife, then gone to his bank, only to be told by his bank manager that the 300 million rupiah he was trying to deposit was in fact only 150 million. Well he nearly died.

He went home and got a deserved tonguing from his wife. And then all through the drive back to meet us, he was worried sick I wouldn’t believe him.

Indonesia has a bit of a reputation amongst some expats for its dodgy dudes and corruption. I think he was worried that I’d think he was trying to cheat us for more money, or that the deal would be off.

So he was extremely relieved when he didn’t need to convince us about what had happened, and that Made and I just calmly handed him the remaining piles of neatly stacked cash without question, apologising profusely for my honest – but very silly – mistake. I’d simply got confused with the piles of 100,000 and 50,000 rupiah notes.

I felt pretty darn silly, let me tell you.

But it was a good lesson for us both. Since then, every time we’ve paid Saeun cash, we laugh and we both count the money. Carefully.

After that icky start, the entire project went extremely well, relatively speaking.

Our simple bungalows are a traditional style, and the project was done on a set budget on a small tropical island in a developing country, so I use the word, ‘relatively’ ;).

One thing in our favour is that our place isn’t western style. Local builders are good at what they know, and asking for western style can be challenging for people who’ve never even set foot in a western style house, let alone build one.

If, in Australia, a tradesman started placing the kitchen sink in the depths of the corner of the kitchen and away from the edge of the bench top where you can reach it, perhaps alarm bells would ring and you’d question their intelligence.

Instead, I just had to point out the mistake, and after much to-ing and fro-ing the guys finally understood what I meant – that I needed to be able to reach the sink!

Here, locals wash their dishes outside at a tap. In a bucket.

We came across a few other little oddities during the building that had me both laughing and cringing.

For example, just one of the six bathroom basins they made for us is at dwarf height. Five are normal at about 900mm high, I had to Google that at the beginning in order to explain what height I required, but one basin comes to just 700mm. Unfortunately, I didn’t realise this until we’d spent a night in that bungalow once the entire project had been completed. I’ve no idea why it wasn’t at the same height as the other five basins… go figure 😜.

Maybe it’s because most locals don’t grow much taller than five foot. But probably, it’s that just like the issue with the kitchen sink, most locals don’t have basins in their bathrooms. They use buckets.

Needless to say, if you happen to be six foot tall and one day find yourself brushing your teeth in the bathroom of Turtle Bungalow, you might struggle!

Another time, I had to stop them mid-way through building the cafe kitchen, when I realized there was a good chance the windows were also going to be dwarf height. In fact, had I not said anything, the windows would have been set below the level of the kitchen benches.

Luckily, it was “no problemo”, and it was solved quickly! The actual windows hadn’t yet been made, so all we had to do was re-cut and replace the window frames, and fill in the empty space in the wall with more concrete.

There are some other little issues, like the curtain-men placed the curtain rails across and above doorways, so if someone inside the room closes the curtains, you can’t really open the door from the outside.

Some of the doors don’t stay open by themselves. And some light switches are on the ‘wrong’ side of the doors. Wrong from a convenience or logical perspective.

Unfortunately, I was in Australia when the electrical work was done, so I wasn’t there to say “whoa there!” Not ever having had much to do with building either, I didn’t notice until I started to use the facilities myself.

All of these issues and oddities could have been avoided if I’d been more present and on the ball.

But then again, as far as I’m concerned, they’re all totally first world problems.

It’s been a learning curve for all of us. Saeun has built many projects before, but this is the first time he’s helped with the complete outfitting process. He helped us buy the toilets and tiles and showers, handmade our beds and cupboards, and even came shopping with us when we bought towels, kitchen utensils, and brooms. I don’t think many builders in Australia would go that far over-and-above their contractual responsibilities.

Our builder also organised the transport of every single item from Mataram (the capital of Lombok) to Meno. It’s not easy getting stuff to Meno. It entails picking up the items from various shops in a little truck, often a challenge in the small congested laneways around Mataram city. The drive to the “harbour” is an hour. The harbour consists of a small wooden boat backing onto the sand at the beach. A boat needs to be chartered, which involves negotiations about the price. Then, because it’s not permitted to load things onto a boat yourself (you ‘must’ provide work to the porters at the beach), bargaining begins.

The boat ride from the harbour takes about half an hour. At Gili Meno, the boat again lands at the beach somewhere, and Gili Meno porters must be given the job of unloading. Price to be bargained. Everything is then loaded onto multiple horse and carts, and driven to the property. There’s a set fee for this, but bargaining for bulk loads is sometimes possible, if you’re lucky.

Every single item and material on our place came here via this method. And that is also why every single item costs a lot more on Meno than it does in Lombok or Bali. Island life 😊.

Saeun saved us the stress of organising all of this, and I can’t put into words how much that meant to us. It was exactly what Made and I needed, as neither of us can cope with stress very well.

He even gave us gifts of jackfruit from his trees, and a beautiful wooden kitchen bar and garden table his men made for us in his workshop.

When I was with Harley I learnt many valuable and beautiful things. Harley was a strong advocate of providing positive feedback, and also personally expressing your thanks. He was keen on supporting underdogs, up-and-comings, new teachers, emerging artists, young musicians. He wrote letters, sent thank-you cards, and would always sms even late at night when he was exhausted at the end of an evening or long function. Anything to personally pass on his thanks and appreciation.

Those simple gestures have stuck with me, and I think of Harley every time I thank someone.

A quote I once read somewhere says it all: “Saying thank you is more than good manners, it is good spirituality”.

Also when I was a new graduate vet, it meant the world to me when clients sent a note or card expressing their appreciation. Since Made and I started renting out a bungalow, we’ve received over 90 positive reviews. They are encouraging, inspiring, and heartwarming. And they help with business.

Last weekend I posted a comment on two local community Facebook groups giving a huge shout-out to Saeun and his team. I wanted to share a positive experience with other expats in the area, and I wanted to publicly thank Saeun for being a thorough gentleman and professional.

My posts have so far received more than 110 like, love or wow clicks, and some positive comments too. I hope it will help Saeun get another contract.

Saeun’s story is similar to Made’s, and similar to many locals. He had a very poor upbringing. Like many Asian people, he doesn’t know his birthday.

When he was born his parents had no paper, no pens, no books. But they owned a small wooden cupboard. His father scratched the date of his birth onto the back of the cupboard. Some years later, when Saeun was still young, his father needed money and sold the cupboard, and the record of the date of Saeun’s birthday disappeared with it.

Now he’s a self-made man who’s worked hard to make his way. He’s intelligent, philosophical, and genuinely interested in making “things better.” He’s active in his town, at his mosque, at the local soccer club, and has aspirations to get into politics one day. He’d like to improve the standard of living in his town.

I don’t understand the local Sasak language, but through body language, smiles-a-plenty, and the general vibe on our building site of up to 18 tradesmen, I’d say he was a pretty good boss-man to his large team.

Over the last few months we’ve become friends, and I hope he does well in politics and remains a good man through that journey. I’d like him to bring his wife and three children for a little holiday in our bungalows, but his wife doesn’t travel well in cars or boats. She prefers to stay close to their humble home.

And so our place is finished and online. For now, we’ve also listed our beautiful new bungalow house for rent during high season to help recoup a little money. Much like Byronites rent out their Wategos homes at Easter time, and Sydneysiders their harbour mansions over New Year. I hope our guests and travellers will love it as much as we do!

I’m itching to move in there myself and finally have the luxury of a couch to sit on, and part of me is craving some good ol’ western personal space and privacy. But hey, it’s no big deal. Made and I have not only avoided ‘divorce’ through this building project, we’ve become an even stronger team, and we can live contentedly in one of our cosy little bungalows for a while longer.

It’s still an absolute castle compared to the homes he grew up in, and as for me, I always said I’d be happy living in a tent ;).