David Smithson looks at the birth of the Cannes Film Festival and Bali’s place in the history of celluloid.

There aren’t many things we can thank Mussolini for – but if it wasn’t for Il Duce we’d be stuck with the Oscars, and Brigitte Bardot would never have been tempted to dip her sweet nothings into the ocean at Cannes.
Venice, 1938: the first competitive international film festival has lost the plot.
The Mostra di Venezia – the Venice Film Festival – has just passed over Jean Renoir for top prize and awarded the Coppa Mussolini to a film commissioned by Joseph Goebbels celebrating the Nazi’s success at the Berlin Olympics. Oh, and a top prize for Benito’s young son so the poor boy’s feelings wouldn’t get stamped on. The French withdraw in protest; the British and American jurors follow suit; and before a year is up the world has a brand new, alternative international film festival free of political censorship and bias … Cannes, Cannes, Cannes.
It’s seen some peaches come and go.
Carol Reed’s The Third Man. Hitchcock’s Notorious. David Lean’s Brief Encounter, and Curtis Hanson’s LA Confidential. Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine – the first documentary to be accepted in competition. Quentin Tarantino’s killer, Pulp Fiction. And the stars on the carpets: De Niro, Nicholson, Newman, Hopper, Loren, Streep, Lollabrigida. And … French starlet, Simone Sylva, who was the first to get her very own peaches out during a photo-call with Robert Mitchum in 1954.
Read the rest of this story in the print edition

Stephanie Cornfield has shot some of the world’s biggest stars. She talks to Salvador Bali about access, adrenalin and fortuitous encounters.

Stephanie, click away…
I’m Stephanie Cornfield, I was born in Paris, but travelled frequently to America. I have dual citizenship – French and American, but with mixed origin, French-Italian on my mother’s side, and Greek-Russian, Romanian on my father’s side. My father was born in Istanbul.
Did you have a formal education that led you to photo school?
I finished my schooling in Paris then lived in London for four years on and off, then back to Paris where I studied political science at The American University. Photography came quite late and by accident. At 26 I was doing photos for different magazines covering nightlife in Paris, London and New York – underground stuff.
How did the accident evolve?
As I had studied political science, I wanted to be a war reporter. I had a boyfriend who was a war reporter for CBS News, based in London, and I joined him during the first Gulf War in Israel in 1991. Then I realised I wasn’t strong enough psychologically to cover war.
How long have you been taking pictures and with what kind of camera?
My very first camera that my father gave to me was an old Nikkormat, great camera, very heavy, that was at age 23. These days I still use Nikon.
Were you developing your own photos?
Yes, I come from the old school – at that time it was real film, doing my own printing and developing. I was even using infrared film, which is a very delicate process. This type of film you had to develop in metallic tanks, not plastic … very tedious. Once I gave it to a lab and they screwed it up (laughs), so from then on I did everything on my own.
Self reliant then …
Sort of … I went to New York and London where my uncle Bernie Cornfeld gave me celebrity membership cards – flying from one club to another, one race to another, it was fun. I loved taking photos of drag queens, druggies and “the scene”, I was a big party girl. Everyone knew who I was and was okay with me taking photos. I wasn’t a stranger, so to speak. Visually it was really interesting and I developed a big archive of this kind of work. Then I became a rock photographer working on staff for a famous magazine based in France called Best, that went on for years. My most memorable encounter with a rock star was Iggy Pop … loved him. After seeing one of his concerts in a small venue in Paris, I ran into him accidentally in the corridor. He was with his bodyguard so I shouted “Iggy!” The bouncer pushed me away but Iggy grabbed my hand and said come have a drink. I ended up backstage with just him, his musicians and his manager. It was magic – we had a long conversation for almost two hours that I still remember to this day. Then he posed for me crawling on the ground…an unforgettable moment. He invited me backstage to one of his concerts later…that was where the photograph on these pages was taken.
Definitely a riot house of photos that one – never knew if he was going to stick the microphone up his ass or cut his throat, amazing how he lived through it all. So as it turns out, you got a lot of on-the-job training?
Definitely. I wished I’d done more earlier. I was hanging out in London with this famous photographer, Nat Finkelstein, who took pictures of Andy Warhol at the Factory back in the day and he was showing me all his stuff. It was very cool. For the past 10 years I’ve been taking pictures of movie stars. Sometimes I have the rare chance to go to their homes, but generally it’s at festivals . . . it’s two minutes, 10 minutes, it depends. Often it’s really quick . . . pure adrenalin. I like to work like that, under pressure . . .
What we’ve been talking about so far is the entertainment business side. Now in Asia, quite a departure?Actually starting to take pictures in India – India is a paradise for photographers.
So this is basically for your own head as an artist?
Yes, especially the Kumbh Mela, the gathering of the sadhus, the holy men of India, when they take a dip in the Ganges to purify their sins. It happens every 12 years in four different places in India – Allahabad, Haridwar, Ujjain, and Nashik. I’ve been in Haridwar for the Kumbh – 80 million people – and this year in Allahabad for a smaller Mela called Magh Mela, but still there were 20 million people there. Quite an experience. Imagine 20 million people walking around in the fog and mist, the place filled with trancey sounds…
What surprises me is that you only had your first exhibition recently, and here in Bali.
Yes, my first exhibition Nomadic Mirrors at JP’s Warung, that went on for two months.
You certainly have reams of material; will you be putting a book together?
It’s the same thing as the exhibition, I never look for it, it comes to me, so at some point I might think about it. I just won a Venice Movie Stars Award at the last Venice Film Festival for my portrait of Andy Lau. It’s my first award, so things are moving ahead.
Backtracking, you mentioned your uncle, Bernie Cornfeld, not Cornfield? What position did he have in the entertainment industry?
My grandfather emigrated to the United States during the war – escaped the Nazis and changed his name from Cornfeld to Cornfield. My uncle kept his original name. Bernie was a flamboyant businessman and lover of women. He was not in show business but did have a modeling agency and production house to get the girls (laughs).
Did he help you on your way?
Not at all, I met my uncle by an incredible coincidence. On a rainy night in London I met this girl who asked to share a cab with me and we started talking. I told her what I was doing – looking for a bit of modeling and a place to stay – and we kept in contact. I discovered she was a lesbian stuntwoman in the movies, quite a character. One year later she was on her way back to Paris from Cannes and she called me. So here we are, she asked me “what’s your name again?” I said Cornfield … “hold on you’re going to speak to someone”… then I hear: “Hello, I’m your grand uncle”. I said, “Bernie?” Incredible, fate, destiny. We clicked immediately. He was an eccentric character and so was I in my own ways. When I lived in London my father never told me I had this rich uncle, so it was like a fairytale. I moved to his house in Belgravia, and entered a whole new world – the best restaurants, theatre, parties, the high life.
So it all began on that level?
Yes, but my father was a film director. In 1962 he directed a movie with Sydney Poitier called Pressure Point and then in ’69 another one with Marlon Brando, The Night of the Following Day. Then a few more that were critically acclaimed, but not commercial. He went back to Europe and married my mother, then back to America. Actually my grandfather was the head of 20th Century Fox for Europe and my great grandfather was an impresario, actor and producer, one of the pioneers in cinema in central Europe.
There’s no business like show business, as the song goes. In the blood, one vein or another. Future plans?
I will be living in India for four months – Bombay. I have started to have contacts with Bollywood and the independent cinema here. I will also develop my photographic stories; pictures in the slums and at the Melas. Then I’m going back to Europe for the Cannes Film Festival where I have been working for the past five years with the Los Angeles Times.
Anything you’d like to say to shut the lens?
Don’t try, just do it.
Stephanie, thanks for your time.

Lou Nietunz Talks With Grammy-Winning Hip Hop Legend Jeffrey A. Townes.

Jeff, your first time to Bali – any first impressions?
Well, you know, very beautiful. We just got in earlier and the plane touched down just as the sun was coming down and so, one of the best sunsets I’ve ever seen, golden orange. And you know I probably don’t get the chance to see a whole lot while I’m here, but tomorrow I’ll probably get up early to see the sun come up.
Did you grow up in a musical family?
Absolutely. My Dad was really in to the old jazz, and my older brother played funk, so I used to watch them practice and rehearse in the basement so much when I was growing up that I don’t think I really had a choice. I just kind of fell in to it.
Who would you site as your strongest influences as a teenager?
Growing up in Philly, the producers Gamble and Huff were very strong influences. Especially Kenny Gamble, he ended up becoming like a big brother to me, and just to watch the architects of the sound of Philadelphia, they would make guest appearances on the radio. So it was almost like living in Detroit – and Berry Gordy coming on the radio with classic Motown stuff, that’s kind of what I was exposed to. So that was amazing, and then you get older and get to meet them more and become friends with them. When you would have issues you would call them up, and those were the kind of guys that would help – it was definitely a blessing.
Was there anyone that taught you how to deejay or did you teach yourself?
I was pretty much self-taught. I used watch a lot of the older deejays and look at their mixing techniques, and especially when I got started it was more about timing and play selection and knowing what records go together. And then the scratching and stuff sort of came later on, and I kind of looked at that more as icing on top of the mixing.
What’s the toughest challenge for you these days?
I guess the travelling and the schedules. I kind of push myself to the limit with that. Balancing the studio work, balancing the family and home, and being on the road. Sometimes I may push it a little hard.
In terms of Philadelphia, what is it do you think that has generated so much strong music both as insider, as well as travelling the world and seeing it from the outside?
I think a big reason is that Philly is very, VERY tough. You know, from their sports teams to their music, they don’t show any mercy. So, I think it kind of makes you take your job seriously, which I think you should. You know, if your fan-base and the people are the most important thing then you want to make sure you satisfy them, and Philadelphia really grooms you to make you sure you do your job – or they will let you know it.
Are there a lot of studios there – or do people who make it there have to go to New York or L.A.?
There’s tons of studios and places and musicians, it’s a really big melting-pot and grooming ground. One of the funny things is Philadephia grooms so many musicians that when you look from Estelle to John Mayer to so many of the other acts, so many of those acts – their entire bands are from Philly.
So how do you see the music industry these days with the Web and so on? Pros and cons?
For me personally it’s probably one of the best times for an artist. It sucks for the industry, but I think that the beauty of it now is that the artist has the ability to take the middle-man completely out of the picture. You used to have to try to find a record label to believe in what you do, and hope that they push you in order to get it to your fans, and right now, you have instant access to your fans so there’s really no need for a record label.
What’s the funniest or most unexpected situation you’ve had to deal with while performing?
I don’t really like performing outside, and I’m not really a big fan of bugs. I’ve had a couple bugs come around me in the middle of a set, and people probably thought that I was up there dancing – but I really wasn’t.
Having travelled the world now, what would you say are your top three places to play or go to?
Singapore for ZoukOut, that was incredible, fifty thousand people on the beach going crazy, ZoukOut was definitely great. Malaysia was definitely great, I enjoyed playing in Hong Kong, I love Japan. Japan has some of the best sound systems I’ve ever played on…and Canada. I really like the vibe in Canada, the whole country of Canada, but especially the western parts like Vancouver.
Is there any mantra or expression that gets you through frustrating times?
No, not really. You know, I don’t sweat the small stuff.
Do you have any dreams or ambitions that you still want to fulfill?
You know what, I’m doing it, I’m really doing it. And I didn’t expect to be doing it for as long, and pretty much the way that I am. I like to describe it as, I’m in a taxi cab, I’m in the back seat and I’m not saying anything, I’m just enjoying the view until the ride is over.
Favorite kind of footwear?
Nike Air Max. Extremely comfortable, great for travelling.
Thanks so much for your time, Jeff. Hope you can make it back here sometime soon.

www.djjazzyjeff.com

Katie Truman totters on the edge at Bali’s newest luxe playground, Uluwatu.

Uluwatu translates as ‘head’ and ‘rock,’ and along the south-west coast of the Bukit, that’s pretty much what you’ll find: a wild natural beauty of rugged limestone cliffs, rolling waves and dazzling cliff-top vistas of a never-ending Indian Ocean (next stop, Australia).
A rocky, sacred outcrop – big in fishing and seaweed-farming, and dotted with ancient temples, Uluwatu was previously all about Bali’s most awesome surf breaks, one of its most revered Hindu sea temples (centuries-old Pura Uluwatu) and a swag of neighbouring idyllic white beaches – Balangan and Padang-Padang to name but two.
But all that’s changing swiftly. The Uluwatu area is emerging as Bali’s new property darling and next hot ticket for tropical indulgence. With many of Bali’s original haunts now a built-up congested blur, developers (and the rest of us) are dispersing to places less visited. Since 2008, five-star resorts including Alila, Banyan Tree, Karma and Bulgari have set down roots along Uluwatu’s dramatic cliff-top plateau.
But now more super-deluxe boutique hotels, resorts and villas are moving in, (including, it is rumoured, Ritz Carlton).
So if you want to get away from the madding crowds without jumping on a plane (and still maintaining discerning standards), head south to Bali’s newest playground, for a day, weekend or longer.
Here we highlight Uluwatu’s newest kids on the cliff injecting definitive style and sublime highlife into this tranquil, magical slice of Bali.

SEMARA LUXURY VILLA RESORT ULUWATU

FOLLOWING its success in Seminyak, Australian-owned Semara has launched a second, albeit contrasting, resort along this increasingly exclusive coastline. Strung along three-plus hectares of prime cliff-top land between illustrious neighbours Karma Kandara and Alila Uluwatu, Semara Luxury Villa Resort brings a unique villa concept to Uluwatu: seven magnificent villas, each boasting approximately 2,300sqm of landscaped grounds and 30m of cliff-edge frontage, with their own 25m infinity pool blurring into the Indian Ocean. Each villa contains five stylish bedrooms housed in separate buildings and a communal, expansive, living-dining space, designer kitchen and media room – assigned with a personal chef and butler, driver and car at your disposal. Within a resort complex these villas however offer full resort facilities, which include Semara Spa, restaurant, gym and floodlit tennis courts: treat Semara like a resort or private villa – or both.
All architecturally refined, the villas are unique in character and layout to suit different guests and tastes. Whether it’s corporates, families or couples. Chintamani and Noora villas can be booked either as individual guest suites (some with private plunge pools) while sharing communal villa facilities, or combined as an adjoining 10-bedroom double villa accommodating up to 20 guests. The other five villas are for private use, but with the option of booking a single guest suite. Alternatively, book all seven villas and have the entire resort to yourselves at no extra cost (maximum 70 guests) with private use of all resort facilities – fabulous for corporate events, anniversaries and extended families. As an ultra-private resort with a gated entrance (at the end of a very long lane) and with its own helipad, Semara can accommodate even the most camera-shy A-listers.
Weddings are also a definite go here, hosted mainly at Semara’s most sensational Villa Tamarama, a stunning white vision of elegant colonial Raj-meets-the-Hamptons, complete with two pools, massive double-storey living-dining room (white clapboard-style dotted with Asian antiquities), plus cliff-edge gazebo, doubling as the ultimate wedding chapel.
Standards are luxe, but Semara’s trademark relaxed playful element thrives – manis/pedis by the pool as your butler concocts a Velvet Mojito, a massage on the private deck, or sunrise yoga sessions on the oceanfront lawns. Alternatively, take the cliff-side inclinator down to Finn’s Beach Club, slap-bang on a private, vendor-free cove with pristine white sand and crystal-clear water. This natural bar-restaurant comes Robinson Crusoe-style, simply constructed with thatched roof, bamboo, stone and pebbles and featuring low-key spaces of raised decks, open grass verge and two idyllic tree-top houses accessed by stone steps − fabulous for private romantic trysts.
Rustic charm may prevail, but Finn’s still has the Champagne on ice, sophisticated cocktails – try the Semara Bloody Marys – and flavoursome global dishes (from oven-fired pizzas to nicoise salads); weekends bring forth buffet BBQs. A Rp250,000 beach pass covers F & B credit, sun-beds, kayaking, fishing and reef snorkeling activities. Children under 12 go free. Stand around in the water too long and bar staff may well wade out and ask for your drinks order, begging the question: “Will that be on the rocks, sir?”
Semara Luxury Villa Resort, Jalan Pantai Selatan Gau, Ungasan 80362, Bali, tel: +62 (0) 361 848 2111
www.semarauluwatu.com

ANANTARA BALI ULUWATU RESORT AND SPA

ANOTHER familiar Seminyak name sparks up Uluwatu – this time, Thai-brand Anantara, with its March soft opening of Anantara Bali Uluwatu Resort and Spa. This ultra-contemporary beach resort celebrates its Anantara heritage and embraces all elements of this inspirational wild, rugged setting. Sensationally cascading down Uluwatu’s cliff-edge towards the crashing Indian Ocean, Anantara Uluwatu pulls-off a seemingly impossible architectural design. And with limited land availability and prices rocketing in the neighbourhood, this futuristic-styled 17,000sqm of relatively unspoilt coastline, epitomises an emerging island trend – space-saving vertical development.
Although sharing the same brand as Seminyak, this five-star resort comes bigger, with different concepts – like villa living – and with its remote location, a tad more low-key. However, Anantara’s signature services and elite facilities still feature. White, minimalist and cubist, the 74 accommodation units (84sqm to 350sqm) gently stagger down the cliff, their grass-covered flat roofs providing natural camouflage. Choose from Ocean-View Suites (some with private infinity pool), Ocean Front Pool Villas and two palatial Duplex Penthouses, with a superb upper-level private pool, perched on the resort’s top floor. Apart from Garden Pool Villas, all accommodation faces the ocean for unrivalled rooms with a view.
Chic interiors reveal high design in natural style, with warm neutral tones and rich textures, while floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors allow for plenty of natural sunlight and personal sunset show. Hi-tech creature comforts include iPod docking station, DVD players, double-sized Hans Grohe showers, BOSE entertainment system, and trademark sensuous balcony Jacuzzi for two. If you’re partial to luxurious cliff-side living and keen to reap the benefits of Uluwatu’s escalating land prices, you can even invest in one of these resort units, managed by the Anantara Group and allowing 21 days’ stay per year.
With no real beach to play with (it’s not called ‘Impossible Beach’ for nothing), the focus here is natural cliff-side splendour and to-die-for ocean views. A highlight is Anantara’s signature roof-top restaurant-bar concept; here, multi-functional rooftop venue ‘360’ lives up to its name, providing surely the area’s finest panoramic views. Open-sided 360 incorporates French fine-dining, Teppanyaki room, glass-encased wine cellar and daybed loungey zone earmarked for sunset cocktails, all accompanied by smooth sounds of live jazz or grand piano.
Down below on a lower level cliff-edge, a more casual poolside restaurant/bar features an infinity pool carved organically into the cliffs and sea of daybeds, the outdoor scene of DJ sessions, BBQs and Mediterranean-style pool dining. For the ultimate in private dining however, try Anantara’s ‘Bespoke dining by design,’ with table a deux set-up in one of several idyllic locations, including a secret cove, complete with private chef and butler.
Resort facilities cover an outdoor amphitheatre, Anantara-brand Villa Spa with cliff-front spa cabana, and Bali’s most striking wedding chapel, resembling a giant wooden bird cage; wedding parties can book-up some of the adjoining villas. Families will appreciate the kids’ pool and day-care, while alternative distractions run to yoga sessions, surfing lessons, Balinese dance classes and Uluwatu Temple and El Kabron conveniently located a couple of coves down.
Anantara Bali Uluwatu Resort and Spa, Jalan Labuan Sait, Kavling C-151, Uluwatu, Bali, tel: + 62 (0) 361 768402/ www.BalianantaraUluwatu.com

EL KABRON SPANISH RESTAURANT AND CLIFF CLUB

INTRODUCING a much-needed and entirely new dining scene to the Bukit, nay Bali, El Kabron is Seminyak mindset deposited seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
Hidden down the end of an long, meandering dirt track it’s so remote, this Hacienda-style, white-washed building with wagon wheel windows looks suspiciously like a Mexican banditos hideout (I half-expected to be ambushed by a posse of poncho-clad, cigar-chomping, gun-toting renegades.) But fear not, at this Spanish-owned Chiringuito-style restaurant and cliff-club, you’ll find arguably Bali’s finest Spanish cuisine and perched 40m up, between Padang-Padang and Dreamland beaches, 180-degree uninterrupted views of the Indian Ocean.
Informal open-air dining – or as David and team El Kabron say, ‘flip-flop fine dining’ – comprise various options: thatch-covered main dining area with simple wooden tables and chairs; a sandy-floored backyard chill-out zone, strewn with eclectic seating, leading to white bean bags circling a pale azure rock-pool – a cliff-edge oasis for refreshing plunges. Don’t be misled by this Latino shabby chic; high standards and gourmet tastes attract the most discerning five-star patrons and the executive chef, Marc Torices, previously worked at Barcelona’s three-star Michelin restaurant, Sant Pau, alongside one of the world’s best female chefs.
With passion, flair and sans any whiff of fusion, Catalan chef Marc presents authentic Spanish- Mediterranean gastronomy in its purest form.
“I want to reproduce all of Spain’s flavours, recreating a little piece of the Med in Bali, “ he says.
Apart from Spanish imported staples, fresh organic produce is sourced at local markets, Bedugal organic farms and from Jimbaran’s fishermen – invariably by the perfectionist chef himself. Delicious Tapas is a selection of Spain’s finest, adhering to traditional flavours; order several to share, like fresh prawns cooked in olive oil with garlic sauce, grilled home-baked bread rubbed with fresh tomatoes, olive oil and garlic, home-made spicy Chorizo sausages, Iberico cured hams and fresh sardines marinated in vinegar. ‘Masterpiece’ paellas (endorsed by numerous patrons) are cooked and served the authentic way, in generous-sized paelleras: these feature saffron-tinged seafood paella de marisco, or the more exotic arroz negro de marisco, with squid, clams and prawns and paella rice blackened with squid ink, yielding a smoky, distinctive flavour. Brasas (grilled) dishes served with essential aioli and divine desserts like Chef’s special Catalan crème brullee also feature. Wash these all down with deceptively innocent jugs of house-made Sangria, or ice-cold San Miguels; if staff ask if you’d like ‘Sex on the Cliff,’ don’t slap their faces – it’s a signature cocktail here (and like the Sangria, a secret recipe).
During March, El Kabron will be closed, re-opening April with a bigger kitchen, front garden space and menu upgrade with even more sensational flavours and presentation; a revised gastronomic selection emphasizing seafood and traditional Spanish recipes, as well as weekly Degustation Menu. So it is well-worth the trek out here, and luckily the sort of establishment where you’re induced to loiter with intent for hours – and repeatedly return. Sunday is official Chill-out Day with sunset DJs, while weekly party night and nightly live music maintain the feel-good factor. Nothing however can compete with nature’s greatest sideshow – jaw-dropping sunsets that in high season are conveniently staged right over the rockpool.

El Kabron Spanish Restaurant and Cliff Club, Jalan Pantai Cemongkak, Pecatu, Bukit; tel: +62 (0) 361 780 3416/ www.chiringuitoelkabron.com

David Bowie owes me three dollars, writes Sarah Douglas.

CELEBRITY sightings are so common in New York that the natives have engineered a convincingly pseudo-cool façade for such encounters. Naturally there are some that excite more than others. It’s good if they are actually doing something – an underground show, falling on their face, coming out of the wrong bathroom at a club, or losing it in the street. That’s entertaining.
In the heady late ‘70s when Studio 54 reigned supreme and The Mudd Club had the downtown scene sewn up, there were plenty of occasions to test your cool if you were a teenaged Australian girl lucky enough to have a pass. My favourite celeb was David Bowie, who hung out regularly at The Mudd Club – never a bodyguard in sight and often just with one or two friends or on his own. He was so cool and detached that no one ever bothered him. Unlike Sylvester Stallone, who arrived one night and toured the two floors completely surrounded by bodyguards so tall that not a hair on the Stallion’s head was sighted.
Saturday Night Live was king of TV in the late ‘70s and an invite to attend the dress rehearsal of John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd’s final show was about as good as it gets for a teenaged girl. A water fight in the dressing rooms and drinks on the town dressed in NBC’s castoffs is a memory I cherish. After the final show they held a party at their place, The Blues Bar, situated in the meat packing district. It was a jaw-dropping evening of stars. Standing at the bar, searching for my poise in a stiff drink, a knock on the shoulder revealed none other than David Bowie. HE WAS TALKING TO ME!
“Would you like a little wager?” he asked.
“God,” I said, “anything.”
He was playing with three little cups, under one of which (he assured me) was a dried pea.
“Find the pea for a dollar,” says he.
He got three dollars off me.
I got suspicious after my third loss and asked to check … and of course there was no pea. I found my poise, aha, and my sense of outrage and demanded my money back.
“I won it,” he tells me, “not so fair, maybe, but hey!” Then he just stood there smiling.
I decided perhaps he wasn’t as cool as he seemed and went in search of some new famous friends – which in that bar, on that night, was merely a matter of turning around. But that guy still owes me three dollars.

The traditional hill tribes of Vietnam – a richly diverse population of different beliefs and customs – defy the challenges of homogenous cliche. Text: Joe Yogerst. Photography: D.Hump.

IT was one of the strangest things I have come across anywhere on the planet, hundreds of people arrayed along a muddy river searching for gold.
Not with anything faintly high-tech but rather old-fashioned metal pans, wooden poles, washboards and sluice boxes; some using nothing more than their hands, like a flashback to California of the 1840s when all of this equipment was originally invented. But in this case on the other side of the Pacific, the northern highlands of Vietnam, not far from the mountain town of Sapa.
The miners – men, women and children – were all Black Thai (Tai), one of a dozen ethnic groups that inhabit these highlands. It looked like arduous work, yet the miners told me it was worth every bead of sweat – much better than laboring in the rice fields. Their average daily find was about a tenth of an ounce, which they could sell to local assayers or the gold shops of Hanoi.
Nearly four decades after unification and more than half a century since the end of French colonial rule, the northern highlands remain much like they were in bygone times … secluded and wildly romantic, infused with an edgy frontier vibe, and still largely devoid of the tourists who have flooded other parts of Vietnam over the past few decades.
For centuries, rugged topography prevented the region from integrating into the mainstream of Vietnamese civilization. Even today, this clenched fist of mountains and steep river valleys – the eastern-most extreme of the Himalayan chain – continues to defy lowland influence. Much of the highlands are still inaccessible except on foot. Roads are better than they used to be but many are in dire need of repair, and washouts are common during the rainy season. It is possible to catch a plane into Sapa and several other mountain outposts (less than an hour from Hanoi as the crow flies), but low clouds, poor visibility and short runways can make it a risky business.
This splendid isolation has also preserved the region’s melting pot: a patchwork of highland tribes that includes the Black and White Thai, Meo and Muong, and four different subgroups of Hmong. Outside of the large market towns and provincial capitals, it can be hard to find someone who speaks fluent Vietnamese. Historically they have very little in common with the people of the flatlands and, instead, look across the nearby border for their cultural roots, to the hill tribe regions of Laos, northern Thailand and southern China.
Traveling through the region is a modern Canterbury Tales of strange encounters with people along the roads and rivers, full of surprises and with little indication what might be around the next bend. In a thatched-roof village called Bon Phang, on the other side of Hoang Lien National Park from Sapa, I came across an itinerant magician entertaining hundreds of people in the town square. Like the gold seekers who I had come across earlier, most of them were Black Thai, instantly identifiable from the flamboyant clothing and jewellery worn by the women. Black ankle-length skirts and brilliant blouses in shades of pink, lavender and aquamarine with big silver buttons shaped like butterflies. Their raven hair in buns, concealed by black scarves, hemmed in the intricate embroidery for which all of the highland tribes are known.
Driving an isolated stretch between Sapa and another big highland town called Lai Chau, we came across about a dozen men with guns and assumed they were brigands.
And why not?
There were certainly bandits here in the 1990s and the region still has a reputation for lawlessness. The armed men moved swiftly through the landscape as if chasing something, intersecting the road just ahead of our jeep. Heart-in-throat time, your mind racing with thoughts of how you’re going to handle the impending confrontation. But it turns out they’re Hmong stalking wild boar with primitive flintlock rifles and hunting dogs.
Down in the valley of the Nam Muc River, along the side of a road, came another unexpected encounter, this time with a fresh grave. And not just any grave, but the elaborate burial place of a young White Thai woman who died from natural causes just a few days before. Towering above the grave was a bamboo scaffold – around 15 metres high; strung with red, white and blue streamers and the dead woman’s clothes. Over the grave itself was a tiny wooden house on stilts, a scale model of a typical White Thai dwelling. Inside the hut were her body and various items she would need in the afterlife: food items, mosquito net, cotton quilt, woven floor mat and a tiny round chair for her ghost to sit on. Burning joss sticks were planted in the ground around this “grave house” and nearby was a small wooden altar adorned with animal bones and cow horns.
Animism continues to thrive through much of the highlands. In Tong Nho, another Black Thai village, I met an 85-year-old shaman with a dusty leather valise at his side. Reaching inside he extracted an ancient book wrapped in plastic to protect it from the elements.
“This is the Black Thai almanac,” said the old man, “it goes back four or five generations in my family.”
Inside were colourful zodiac charts, numerical tables and other means by which he guided the everyday life of Tong Nho village.
With me looking over his shoulder, the shaman flipped through the almanac, explaining the significance of each page.
“These pictures show us the good and bad days to start building a new house, get married, plant crops, and so on. Everything is determined by 60-day cycles that are repeated six times each lunar year. The book also has instructions on how to position your house. If the door is facing the dragon’s head – as in this drawing – then the inhabitants will be gobbled up. Doors should always face the dragon’s body. We still use this book now. The village always asks my advice for new houses, weddings parties, and so on.”
Using the almanac as his celestial guide, the old man also practiced astrology and told fortunes.
“Becoming a shaman doesn’t depend on your wealth or your family,” he explained.
His eldest son, translating from the Black Thai language into Vietnamese, which was then converted into English for my benefit:
“It depends on your knowledge.”
I asked him what would happen to the book and its store of ancient knowledge after his death.
“Anyone in my family who wants to learn or view this book can do so. And if not my family, someone else from the village will be trained to read this book, to be my successor.”
Despite its isolation, the region played a pivotal role in French Indochina. Owing to its pleasant highland climate, Sapa evolved from a colonial military outpost on the edge of empire into a fashionable “hill station” frequented by Hanoi’s elite. Most of the elegant colonial buildings were destroyed during the revolution of the 1950s and the town sank into decades of obscurity. But it was that mild climate – in tandem with the awesome scenery and hill tribe cultures – that resurrected the town’s fortunes around 20 years ago, transforming it into the tourism and adventure travel center of the highlands.
Several other places in the highlands also trace their roots to colonial times. Perched on a bleak hillside overlooking the town of Son La is an old French penitentiary. Built just after the turn of the 20th century, the prison was the scene of numerous guillotine executions, most of them Black Thai warriors who resisted France’s rule. Within its first decade, the prison also witnessed a least one massive jailbreak and a Bastille-like storming of its bastions by Black Thai rebels who summarily dispatched the French commandant.
The most notorious phase of the prison’s history began in the 1930s when Son La became something of an inland Devil’s Island for political prisoners from all around Vietnam. In a way, one established credibility as a Communist cadre by doing time at Son La. Many of the post-independence leaders were imprisoned there at one time or another. And many never left. Beneath the prison kitchen are underground cells that could be flooded with water in a matter of minutes. Prisoners were kept there for weeks at a time, submerged in chin-high water, trying to stay awake, stay afloat, to stay alive. Most of them didn’t.
Ghosts of the highland past also linger in Dien Bien Phu. The lush valley holds a special place in the French psyche akin to Agincourt or Waterloo – a name that’s instantly emblematic of French defeat and surrender. The fierce battle that played out there in 1954 spelled not only the end of French dominion in Vietnam but also the start of geopolitical trends that would eventually draw America into war in Indochina. But that was long ago, a different era, before most of today’s Vietnamese were even born. Tanks and mortars have given way to spades and plows. Nowadays, Dien Bien Phu is just another mountain valley where people get on with the future rather than dwell on the past.
Locals are more apt to talk these days about the “First Battle of Dien Bien Phu” – something I had never ever heard about till my visit. Three hundred years ago, the valley was a central node in the lucrative caravan network linking Thailand, southern China and the Red River Valley, a sort of miniature Samarkand of the hills. Its strategic and economic value was manifest.
“This valley was very crowded at the time,” a member of the local district committee told me.
“Trade was booming. They traded silver, clothes, agricultural and forest products. They mined silver in this area. And they grew opium too!”
Such wealth was bound to draw the attention of outsiders, like the Chinese warriors who marched over the mountains in the mid-18th century to seize Dien Bien Phu. According to legend, the invaders rounded up hundreds of local children, drowned them and showed the bleached bones to their grieving parents as a warning that they should never try to rebel. It took the better part of a year, but the Black Thai whipped themselves into fighting shape and confronted the Chinese. The final victory came in 1758 through an ingenious strategy called the “Goat Defense”. Under the cover of darkness, the rebels gathered 300 goats in the hills surrounding the valley. Lighted candles were fixed to the animals’ horns and they were herded down the mountain in clear view of the Chinese army camp. As was intended, the enemy looked up, saw this mass of quivering light and presumed it was massive reinforcements arriving. The invaders fled in panic, never to return.
A fortress constructed after the battle to guard against future incursions lies near the center of the valley, crumbling ramparts and moats that form the outer shell of Ban Phu Citadel. Wandering around inside the walls, I came across the tomb of the general who devised the goat defense next to a tranquil pond and a simple mud-brick shrine. Offerings of bananas, limes and sesame cakes had been left on the mud doorstep, and inside, above the altar, was a painting of the general on a white steed. An almost forgotten bit of history in a place that time seems to have left time behind.
So much of the highlands have that same bygone vibe. At some point, the 21st century will arrive and the rich, diverse hill tribe cultures will dilute or even vanish. But for the time being, old ways and means linger in the mountains and valleys around Sapa.

Mike Pohorly visits French fine dining restaurant Tapping Shoes for a sensational bit of bird at Potato Head.

It could be said that current taboos around food are like Victorian taboos around sex – both are ridiculous, yet potentially delectable when overcome. It was with this alluring, albeit slightly askew, anticipation of the unfamiliar that I entered Tapping Shoes Restaurant to sink my teeth into pigeon for the first time.
Tapping Shoes, specialising in classic French cuisine, is the new 2nd floor addition to the popular Potato Head Beach Club. The kitchen is run by Japanese-born Chef Hikaru, who brings 20 years of experience in French fine dining. The dining room itself is magnificent, artfully fusing the formal, the eclectic, and the playful – just as you’d expect from owner Ronald Akili, whose ultra swank beach club features a staggering façade of more than 10,000 mismatched 18th Century teak shutters.
As with his club, Akili effortlessly combines seemingly incongruous touches in the restaurant, like antique cathedral candelabras, colourful striped tablecloths, and a dizzyingly endless array of chandeliers, all anchored by a huge and unexpected painting of Mick Jagger by famed Indonesian artist Dede Eri Supria. This combination of over-the-top and obscure detailing combines to create an atmosphere that’s warm, relaxing, and fresh all at once. Frankly, this is the last place you would expect to find yourself after enjoying cocktails against an Indian Ocean sunset – which is precisely why it works.
A selection of fruity aperitifs eases the transition from the warm beach breezes below to this air-conditioned retreat with its own private balcony. Both the Bellini – soft blackberries, strawberries, raspberries married in sparkling wine – and the Lemongrass Margarita are exceptional and refreshing. Keeping with this vibe, the amuse bouche of chilled corn soup set against an even chillier potato ice cream is also incontrovertibly invigorating.
Appetizers include terrine de foie gras, marble style with mango and green pepper corn; and Canadian lobster served with tabouli, capsicum mousse, gazpacho sauce & balsamic reduction. The lobster was everything seafood lovers expect from these cold water catches – rich, savoury, and remarkably flavoured, with a dense, firm texture. The foie gras, being one of my personal favourite dishes, and only available at a small handful of fine establishments on the island, was delicious. Main courses offered at Tapping Shoes include traditional tournedos de boeuf; roasted Barbary duck breast; and the fish of the day. As tempting as they sounded, I wasn’t going to be persuaded away from my main aspiration this evening.
The pigeon arrived, served in the manner of authentic French cuisine – with its fried feet as a garnish. And this is where I pause. Of course, Anthony Bourdain wouldn’t flinch. Nor would any Frenchmen long acquainted with pigeon pie, or Chinese wedding guests who’ve long enjoyed the traditional crispy fried pigeon, which is served as an omen for a peaceful future. For the uninitiated, “squab” – as the cuisine of pigeon is known – has little in common with its street-savvy urban cousins. It’s a domesticated bird that is farmed in the manner of chickens but carries far fewer pathogens than most poultry, so it can be cooked medium, or even medium-rare safely. But as a North American, where popular sentiment still casts the pigeon as a lowly disease-riddled bird more commonly seen pecking rubbish on city sidewalks than arranged ornamentally on a dinner plate, it takes me a moment to recalibrate my gastronomical compass and try a bite.
How did it taste? In a word, sensational. Delicious in a gamey sort of way, with a distinct taste that is actually quite difficult to describe – all boons in its favour. Pigeon is a darker meat with a heavier texture, yet tender and succulent. There is a slight nutty flavour that is set off here by roasting the bird in ginger sauce. Like the fortuitous glimpsing of a woman’s ankle in 1800s England, I find myself still relishing this unique experience days later.
The meal was topped off spectacularly by an Oeufs à la Neige – a meringue floating on vanilla custard.
In case you’re wondering how the name Tapping Shoes came about, it apparently just popped to mind when owner Akili and Chef Hikaru were looking for a way to convey the unpretentious and fun spirit of their fine French dining. Without question, thanks to their innovatively talented approach in cuisine and décor, they’ve succeeded on all accounts.
The Tapping Shoes menu can be experienced à la carte or via prix fixe menus – a five-course or a six-course – that are priced around a million rupiah.

Daniel and Eva Oikari are Swedish-Finnish fans of all things Japanese. And it shows in their shop – Studio Sumo.

Daniel and Eva, the shop is open…
I’m Eva Oikari, from Sweden, 26-years-old. I first came here when I was 19 during a year off after high school. I spent two nights here in Bali, then went on to the Gilis where I met my future husband, Daniel. I went back to Sweden and studied journalism, and we kept in touch…
Daniel, what’s your story?
I’ll be turning 40 soon: I spent 10 years as a ski photographer in the French alps, then I worked with a company selling sunglasses and ski glasses and stuff. I did some graphic designing for them in Sweden – catalogues, labeling and packaging, then I realised it wasn’t what I wanted, so we left.
That’s where the artistic head came about I presume? So you’re living here in Bali now?
Yes and yes, in Seminyak, two years now.
Where did the idea for Studio Sumo come from? I mean it’s about as individual as one can get for this day and age …
Daniel: When we left Sweden in 2008 we left everything behind, sold everything, travelled around the world gathering ideas, and within that time our ideas were to open up bungalows or a small restaurant, or some kind of shop. We stayed in the Philippines for a year and thought of doing something there, but it was impossible. We did diving trips to Bali and we discovered the Seminyak area; thought it would be fun to have a shop here.
Eva: We were having a baby and didn’t want to be living in the Philippines with a new-born. We agreed we should open a shop, but we didn’t have any money. We came anyway, found the shop, signed the contract and decided to see what happens.
I think Japan would really go for this kind of thing. There’s a stark designer feel to the shop that’s reminiscent of that culture.
Daniel: The family name, Oikari, is Finnish, but it is also a famous name of a sumo wrestler from the 1930s.
Eva: That’s how the Studio Sumo came up.
Daniel: We love Japan. We have two cats named Miso and Bento, two dogs named Sumo and Soba. Everything in the shop has a Japanese name. Our son has a Japanese name; he’s 16-months-old and there’s another one on the way. Our second child will have a Japanese name as well.
It takes a lot of courage to just jump in the pool like that. Did you already have a concept of what you would sell?
Daniel: No, we had never done anything like this before.
Interesting, so, day by day you’re coming up with new ideas?
All the time.
Studio Sumo has been open for how long now?
About seven months.
Your items are attractive and alluring, but to what purpose?
When you come into our shop, the concept is that everything is art: whether it’s a t-shirt, teaspoon or an egg cup or a book, it has to be considered art.
Basically you’re creating forms with whatever is available to the eye?
Yes, it’s our brand, which is Studio Sumo garments, sun glasses etcetera…
So far, how are things working out. Right now it’s a walk-in buy, no exporting?
Eva: In the future maybe it will be about export. Right now we have a lot of creative work to do, we have to get stuff to the shop.
Daniel: Step by step. We’ve spent nine months getting the labeling and the branding perfect … like when you walk into our shop, you get a free bottle of water with our label on it. Everything is packed in a special way.
How’s the response so far?
Really good.
I presume you would have people coming in and wanting you to do designs for them?
More like looking around and stealing ideas!
Who does the creating between the two of you?
Eva: We do it together; we have a lot of stuff loaded in our heads.
< strong>Is there a general direction in which you’re headed creatively?
Daniel: Well, we control our own brand, and that includes manufacturing garments. We work with small local companies that we know are good.
Life is art, so to speak: if it gives you an idea, it goes in the shop? Gallery, art shop – interesting, have you ever seen this concept before?
Eva: Not really. What we like we hope other people will also like.
Let’s have your philosophy …
Eva: That always sounds like a cliché. I believe it’s possible to do what you want to do, you don’t have to work nine-to-five and be depressed and hate your life. Better to follow your dreams and just do it.
Daniel: It’s always been important for me to get the maximum out of life and always appreciate this world, explore and see a new things, and that’s the joy of travelling. Sometimes it’s not so easy living that way, but if you don’t try, you’ll never know. I don’t want life to pass me by and then regret it. S.B.

Mike Pohorly talks to Canadian filmmaker David Mossop about the genre-bending ski movie All.I.Can, currently the top downloaded documentary on iTunes.

David, Bali is home to surfers and surf filmmakers, what are your thoughts on the relationship between surfing on water and boarding and skiing on snow?
All board sports are intrinsically tied at the hip, but surfing is the root of it all. Turning a board in water, be it frozen or otherwise, is a transcendent experience, and one that bonds a huge population of people around the world together. You may just see some homage paid to our oceanic brethren in our next film.
Did you start on a board or skis?
Skis, but I boarded for several years as a teenager. Now I most prefer NoBoarding (Snowboarding with no bindings) in powder…it’s basically surfing snow. It is ridiculously fun.
Your film contains so many stunning images and time-lapse sequences which evoke Baraka and Koyanniaqatsi. Bali residents have long been familiar with Ron Fricke’s work as many of his sequences were shot here. Were his movies a direct influence on All.I.Can?
Absolutely, we have huge respect for Ron Fricke, there is no question of his influence on our work. It is an honour to be mentioned in the same sentence as him. I was a film studies major in university, where we studied many of the great directors. Ron Fricke is paid direct homage in our film, as are many other of my favourites, like Stanley Kubrick, Andrei Tarkovsky, David Fincher and the Cohen Brothers.
For skiers growing up in the ’80s, the film, The Blizzard of Ahhh’s was a breakthrough experience, a whole new level of ski movie from Warren Miller. Was this an early inspiration for you?
For sure, The Blizzard of Ahhh’s was a tour-de-force and absolutely blew my mind when I first saw it. It really opened my eyes to what is possible in a ski film. Another memorable work in the same genre was Mountain Man by Christian Begin – it also weaved in some meaning and intention to its theme, and changed the way we think of ski movies.
All.I.Can has many different meanings weaved into the film. What are the main messages you wanted to communicate?
There are a lot of themes and intricacies we worked hard to embed in the film. We wanted to get across that we are all connected, not just to one another, but to nature. The same patterns that we see on a small scale in nature, are reflected in the large scale on the earth, and in us. Also, as JP Auclair states in the film: “It’s not about doing less, it’s about doing more”. For me this is a major ideological breakthrough, one that can change the whole way we approach the environment and problem solving in general. Finally we wanted to share mountain culture, and how those of us that immerse ourselves in nature, have incredible potential. The mountains have taught us everything we need to know, we just have to bond together and apply what we have learned. The thankfulness for everything we have been given is central, the beauty of nature is a constant reminder to be grateful.
What is your background as a filmmaker?
I went to film school at the University of Victoria in British Columbia where I gained a deep appreciation for the art of the cinematic language, and the potential for cinema to act as a universal communicator. From there I went on to make countless no-budget short films learning the craft and paying my dues. I worked as a professional stills photographer intermittently, but also began film work for other production companies like Matchstick Productions, Freeride Entertainment and Switchback. The Sherpas’ first feature film, The Fine Line, came out in 2008 and set our company off in full swing.
For fellow filmmakers in Bali, what are the technical specs of the film? We can definitely spot some GoPro footage there, but what were your main cameras and what frame rates did you use?
We shot Red One, Canon 5D and 7D, Arri SR2 Highspeed Super 16mm, Cineflex and Phantom HD Gold. The majority is shot at 24fps, but the Red runs up to 100fps at 2K resolution which allowed Eric Corsland, the co-director, to shoot a bunch of great shots in slow motion.
The close-ups of the snowflakes falling look so amazing that they seem digitally produced. Were they shot on a crazy macro lens?
Yeah, we got this amazing super-macro lens called a 60mm 5:1. It’s widest frame is an inch, and its tightest makes a grain of rice appear full screen. So interesting to view the world like that. The snowflakes, the eyeball, the stitching, the drips – that lens really blew our minds and opened up a lot of creative options.
Some of the most stunning shots feature a nature scene of a mountain in the summer and then the shot explodes with snow and a skier rips through the frame. How did you accomplish that?
Top secret! Just kidding. To spoil the magic…they are shots that are repeated from the exact same camera position, taken at different times of year. Once we have the same frame sampled enough times, our After Effects editing wizard brushes the different seasons together revealing them gradually using masks. We did have cameras out clicking for months on end at certain spots, but not in this case, it looks better to do a post-production blend for these action shots through the seasons.
There are film artifacts such as exposure spots popping throughout the film which add a more rougher quality to the pristine image quality and add to the art of the movie in a way that’s hard to put my finger on. What was the thinking behind adding them?
Much of the film was shot on 16mm, and all the burns you see are from real film. But we did add in some cigarette burns (black circles) in post. They are a subtle reference to Stanley Kubrick’s black monolith’s from A Space Oddessy: 2001 Nobody really knows what they mean… they mean something different to everyone, and that might just be the point.
And finally, is watching too much Ski Porn bad for you?
Absolutely not. Ski porn is awesome and always will be. But we believe there are other ways to make a great ski movie, and with All.I.Can we wanted to try something unique.

www.sherpascinema.com/theatre/allican

Mixologist Dee Cee – pints are for pansies, leave your tonic water in the hotel minibar. Cheers.

Set ‘em up Dave.
My nick name is Dee Cee, I’ve been called that since I was six years old
Washington?
No, more along the lines of AC/DC! Yeah, so my name is David Cade, 35, Slovenian, born in Italy, English is my first language, mainly because I came from a hippie traveling family.
On our way to becoming a mixologist: schooling backdrop – normal? We suspect not.
I was mostly home schooled. I never went to public schools.
You were a bad boy, playing hooky, I like this. So what kind of curriculum did you have on the road?
All the basics: grammar, English, maths, did a correspondence course in freelance journalism from Surrey, UK, at 19. Then I went out on my own to discover the world, not to be taught what to believe, what to think. My first job was at a McDonald’s for eight months, and then I became an English teacher.
So young?
I was approached to be an English teacher in the Berlitz International School. I was interviewed, got the job.
That sounds kind of respectable …
Yeah, yeah, I grew a goatee, got some glasses, true. I did that for two years, had to join the military, which was mandatory in those days. After that I started my own school, teaching, that was called A&B: financially it was the best time, two years of that and then I had a mini midlife crisis – do I really want this briefcase life? I knew I really didn’t want it but I had no idea what I wanted to be, and I ended up in the United States with a friend of mine lending me his motorcycle and I did a tour of the States … just me, the helmet and the road, no music, nobody to talk to.
Sounds like the Jack Kerouac book, On the Road.
Quite. I asked myself some serious questions: what did I really love … and the answer was music, good drinks, good food, beautiful surroundings, architecture … so I came up with the word “playground”. I decided I wanted to open a restaurant-bar-club, although I knew nothing about it. Sometimes the road and the journey is more important than actually getting there. I went back to Slovenia, closed down my company and got myself a job as a bartender. I wanted to be a boss who knew everything about the business, and that’s been my driving force for the past 12 years. Mixology came in, but mostly cocktails with different liquors, bottled juices, some Sprite, like that.
Did you have any schooling in mixology or was it on-the-job training?
On-the-job. Slovenia, then Ibiza, then a vacation in Brazil where I discovered their juice culture – there are juice bars and stands everywhere. If I asked for an orange juice, they would ask me if I wanted lemongrass or wheatgrass inside; options I’d never had before. I realised cocktails should not only be dedicated to alcohol; they can really be about fruits mixed different herbs. I started imagining about going in this direction; playing with Nature’s flavours rather than alcohol. I went back to Ibiza and my whole concept of bartending changed. I was playing with fresh fruit, fresh ingredients and vegetables in my drinks … the response was very positive. After a time I wanted to go further and I started studying herbs and their properties and was just blown away. Everything that Nature provides has tons of different properties. Nature offers all the medicine in the world, so much, so vital; beautiful properties in all these ingredients and then looking into spices, same thing.
So the alcohol became less important and now you’re a man on a mission, so to speak?
Yes, but of course most people want and expect the alcohol in their cocktails.
What are you doing here on Bali?
At the moment I’m consulting for some places that are opening: drink lists, training bartenders, that kind of thing.
On what level – alcohol, herbs?
My menu will always include some of these elements but I have to be concerned with making a living too. I do promote using only fresh fruits, preparing things on the spot and now my aim is to open my own place, where I can create the kind of drinks I love.
Why Bali?
I had a project in China and came here for vacation and discovered the island … then I came back. I had a venue in Ubud lined up – an investor who was interested in me – but the project faded away. I did a few events at Word of Mouth, then a fixed position at La Plancha, and then to La Barca, so as you say, still a mixologist on a mission.
I hear you’ve also got a healthy fetish with ice?
We talk about fruit, we talk about herbs, vegetables, spices and in fact, all these things come from water. Ice is the soul of every drink, it created the cocktail culture that we have today. No ice, no cocktail culture, so the quality of ice that we receive here in Bali is rather poor to be working with and so I’ve started working with people who could produce crystal clear ice blocks. It’s a different process to reglar ice and the result is incredible.
Will you be teaching somewhere down the line?
Actually I have a friend, Federico [see our story in these pages], he’s an artist and has an art gallery on Jl. Drupadi and has a bar there as well in his studio – from March, I’ll work at the bar as a creative space, working on the crystal ice, teaching people how to work with it and of course the bartender society.
People have various tastes, do you cater to suggestions?
Sure, people like different things and I create specifically for their tastes.
Do you have a menu of your own?
It’s all about balance. You have to have the sour, the sweet, etcetera, but there’s a lot more. Actually I’ve been thinking of making a book about it, explaining the different herbs and their properties and basing the book on that. I have archives of material and experience but as yet no specific menu.
Do you have any Tom Cruise tricks?
No, because that’s called flair bartending. Actually mixologists and flair bartending don’t see eye to eye. For a mixologist there are three sensations that you’re trying to please: sight – what you see has to look appealing to you; second, smell – it has to be brought to your mouth, there’s a sense of the aromas, whcih change and develop as you bring the drink to your mouth. Then there’s taste: you have three flavours; the first impression, which can be sweet, spicy, sour, whatever. Then there’s the middle taste and finally the taste that lingers. You might add a bit of pepper or spice that comes through at the end.
Will you be staying in Bali?
For sure. I moved here with the intent to stay. I’ve traveled so frequently, kind of hardcore around the world, so now I’m looking for a base. This is it.
To your fans out there?
Whenever I’m complimented on my drinks I always tell people that it’s all about reminding us that Nature is a beautiful thing. We don’t recognize the flavours anymore because our flavours are so product based. So yeah, I’m trying to bring people a littel closer to Nature.

Special thanks to Nick at Villa Lattitude, Kristal Bali for the crystal clear ice and Bali Indah for the awesome spirits.