An oasis of fun at luxury Ria Bintan Club Med Resort
Fun and frolicking in these times is hard to imagine, but not at the Ria Bintan Club Med Resort, located on the north coast of Bintan island. Club Med, celebrating one of its first holiday seasons in Bintan since its opening last October, invited journalists from several countries for a promotional trip from May 8 to May 10. The Jakarta Post was represented by Yogita Tahil Ramani, who wrote the following stories.
BINTAN ISLAND, Riau (JP): A beach can leave a deep impression, especially if it's on the premises of Club Med Ria Bintan on the South China Sea.
Considering the situation in Jakarta -- with people stressed to the hilt -- a few blessed reporters decided to see what Club Med had to offer and report on it. Period.
Winda, a radio broadcaster, said: "They (most people) cannot afford it (happiness). We are journalists. Let's just be that, add color and get it over with."
A bus trip out of Hang Nadim Airport Batam changed this frame of mind.
We passed forests of sprawling, untamed greenery and bald bark parched white from the heat during the 10-minute ride to the Telaga Punggur Ferry Terminal.
The roads were almost empty. A 30-minute ride took us to Bandar Bentan Telani Ferry Terminal, Bintan Resorts, and from there, in two words, Club Med.
The first thing that humbles the newcomer here is the tranquility of the sea.
The blue vastness is given a backdrop of celestial skies. The water is clear, enabling you to see its seabed of fine sand.
In the afternoon, we swam like children waiting for gigantic waves to hit us again and again.
There were vast stretches of pepper-colored sand inviting people to play in it.
Daydreaming in the evening.
More people played in the sea than on the beach. Some flaunted skin-colored bikinis, while a few others dared to flaunt even less.
Night show
After a rich dinner, things started with the night show.
The theater where it was held could seat more than 400, but people seemed to be sprawling all around.
Aside from an exotic Brazilian snake-dancer, pirouetting to a ballad and executing Janet Jackson steps on stage, the evening's highlights included ballet-dancing to Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You by a Moroccan Club Med general organizer (GO), Aziz, and the chef, Vivi.
Aziz exhausted all of his admirable efforts in getting his arms in perfect ballet position -- his padded chest, his blond coiffeur of a wig and his tutu in place. Vivi was the picture of a gurgling seal, flapping his arms left and right in sheer white tights.
Usually the night shows are followed by what Club Meders call Crazy Sign.
The entire place was lit with burning lamps, lining the swimming pools and gardens. People gathered around the pools, while general manager Medhi Serrour requested guests to join him in recognizing the kitchen staff, the front-desk employees, housekeeping and other employees lined up on the stage.
Lights focused on a huge, central symbol pasted on the outer portion of the building, the classic trident with a dot -- the symbol of Club Med.
Amid the applause, a realization dawned on us.
These people have built a city within the island. A city populated with more Europeans than Asians. A city where the only signs of Indonesia emerge from nature's sights and sounds and of course, the service staff.
It is so detached from reality, and yet, a reality. A dreamland. It did not seem to be part of Indonesia.
Crazy Sign brought us back to earth.
People rushed to line up in rows and dance to a euphoric beat, following the dance steps of those onstage.
They sang, folded hands and twirled hips to Un Dos Tres, Ale Ale Ale and danced zombie-style for Free From Desire. Songs ranged from YMCA to the disco version of My Heart Will Go On.
All of a sudden, confetti started raining on us.
Next thing we knew, we were forming a locomotive, dancing all the way to the main lounge.
Here, everybody, including the CEO and other chef-de-villages of other countries, were doing the swing, salsa, lambada and all sorts of dance steps to I Feel Good, Shout and other great oldies. The crowd later shifted to the nightclub.
There is something so deliciously daring, so becoming of people to appraise one another in a crowded scene. Particularly, on a dance floor.
A trapeze swinger who had no sense of rhythm on the floor, stomped songs away while he danced.
Hips swung in and circled the air, hands chopped them, bodies became entangled around others and there were eyes that felt but refused to see. They all danced.
Quitting time was 4 a.m., only after some managed to do the Jaipongan, a traditional West Javanese dance, to a heavy-metal number.