Who knew that “rustic” was the most obvious euphemism for “cheap”? Clearly, the link was lost on me, when I booked for a Bintan trip over the post-Christmas break. The website said threw words like “paradise”, “clean”, “heaven”; it also threw words like “back to basics”, “in tune with Nature” and “rustic”.

Rustic meant that I found a lizard in the hotel room (or lodge, or cabin, or rickety-hut-with-a-roof by the look of it). Rustic also meant no phone in the room to call housekeeping with, to get them to clear the lizard out. Rustic meant no partition between the shower stall and toilet bowl, so you got the perpetual wet toilet feel of true “Nature”. Except in Nature, the water is dew. And other… semi-clear liquids.

Things haven’t changed with me since forced-camping days in secondary school. (MGS girls will remember Camp Christine, I’m sure.) I’m not good with wet toilets or with the entire Nature stuff. So truth be told, I don’t know why I booked the Bintan trip. But I did get swayed by the snazzy images of paradise and heaven (and cleanliness!), I confess.

I’m sure, however, it’s a great getaway for those deprived of yearlong summers and finger-dripping humidity; the occupancy was about 80 percent Caucasian on first glance, and this clearly doesn’t change much, by the looks of the 100 percent Western fare menu at the hotel cafe. But hey, I’m not complaining. It just didn’t seem very Asian for an island in Indonesia.

The ambience and look is exactly catered to the ang moh (Caucasian) perception of what an island paradise ought to be like. The pretend-makeshift signages (complete with rickety nails and chalk markings) labelling the cafe, reception area and so on, the “local” surf shop carrying Billabong, Roxy and other Australian surf brands, the faux-tree stump furniture littered all over (they’re really fibreglass, I think) all make you feel like you’re in a Disney version of an Asian island. Something like the Jungle Book.

You walk into the cafe, and they’re piping in Gypsy Kings (bamboleo… bambole-a!) and the menu offers you Western food helpfully translated into Bahasa, so that it helps you feel the destination a little more. Even more helpfully, they’ve added little reverse-translations next to the Bahasa: “chilli hot dogs”, “fish and chips”, and the like.

No pictures from this trip, amazingly, because I (gasp!) didn’t bring a camera. I did, however, do a little video with commentary on the amazing number of Caucasians there, which I’ll post up tomorrow. If anything, I overheard an ang moh on the bus back to the ferry terminal commenting that, “It was a most lovely change from Singapore.” Well! I’m glad someone was fooled, out of all of it.

(Testing new streaming options, I’m happy to attach a phonecam video of the Christmas madness at Takashimaya, in Orchard Road on the 25th of December. Some of the larger shops were closed, but it didn’t stop the infernal crowd from gathering haphazardly about the tree in the middle of the mall, incessantly snapping away. It’s a large tree, I get it. I hope it’s one for posterity, you maniacs.)