The taxi pulls up in front of the Marriott and the doorman ushers me inside. I’m not actually staying at the Marriott, but happen to be here checking out their New Year’s celebration. They are hosting a pirate theme party. Upon my arrival I spend a few minutes teaching the staff how to talk like a pirate. “Yaaaarrrr!” I say, demonstrably, “not “Aaaahhhh!” The “Y” and “R” sounds are difficult for them. They can manage “Shiver me timbers” but have no idea what it means or when to use it.

“Yaaaarrrr, matie!” I wink to the doorman as he closes the door on me. I lean forward to the driver and carefully pronounce a single word, “Dolly.” He glances at me then waves over the doorman. Much discussion takes place. OK, what’s the story?

“Where you want to go?” asks the doorman through the front window.

“Dolly” I say with an eyebrow raised in apprehension. Surely they know the place? Discussion with the driver follows.

“Ah!” the driver exclaims, “Dolly!” and pulls off. Well, certainly glad we resolved that particular issue.

I have no idea where Dolly is, but know it’s not too far from the hotel area. I look for landmarks as we drive through the darkness. Several minutes later, the traffic gets thick and the road narrows. We are soon making our way down a one-way street full of pedestrians and motorbikes (many of which are going the wrong way). We pass a few narrow alleys with red lights and know we are in the neighborhood.

The driver attempts a hairpin turn onto an intersecting street crammed with people and motorbikes. “Dolly?” I inquire. He nods. I extract a nominal amount of Rupiahs from my wallet, hand it to him and egress.

I’m standing on a narrow street intersection. A few cars are making the attempt, but most of the traffic is pedestrian - although plenty of motorbikes are making their way to and fro. I’m surrounded by typical urban two story buildings, somewhat run down and not particularly clean. In other words, it looks like most South East Asian cities; the principle difference is that nearly all the people wandering around are men.

I make my way down the street and see my first brothel within a dozen steps. It’s recessed from the street a bit, but easy enough to identify at a glance. A large picture window reveals half a dozen girls sitting on elevated benches against the far wall. They’re well attired in high-heeled shoes and party dresses. One girl is smoking, two others are chatting on their cell phones. All of them look bored. On a scale of one to ten, I’d have to rank them around five or six.

I continue to walk down the street. Touts run up and ask me to come with them a few paces to their shop. I oblige and have a look at what’s on offer. Sometimes I go inside and sometimes I peer through the window. I see the same scene again and again, fishbowls with semi-attractive girls.

What strikes me is the total lack of interest on behalf of the girls. They just sit there, bored and resigned, talking on the phone, talking to each other or just gazing off into the middle distance. I achieve no connection to them.

As I make my way down the street, two things occur to me. I’m the only white guy in Dolly. I’ve been to plenty of places where I’m the only white guy, so I’m not at all uncomfortable with this fact. However, what is really odd is that the locals, with the exception of the touts, are completely ignoring me. I walk through their midst totally inconspicuous. Even blundering into the path of a motorbike receives no acknowledgement from the driver, he just goes around me without making eye contact.

The local guys generally travel in small supportive groups, packs of domestic dogs roaming the neighborhood. They pull up to a brothel window, gawk at the girls - who ignore them - laugh, jostle each other and move on to the next house.

At the end of the pedestrian congested street, I turn the corner and head down one of the narrow alleyways. Here, the houses are much narrower and closer together. They are not, however, brothels like on the main thoroughfare. Through the window I can see that they are small bars and karaoke shops. Each establishment has a room at the front, barely large enough to be a western living room, with a few chairs or benches or maybe a well-worn couch. Shops with no patrons see the proprietor and staff sitting on the front step attempting to attract customers. Unlike the Thais who engage you and physically endeavor to pull you inside, here they just look at you and maybe smile or gesture to their establishment. Here, I’m sorry to report, the women were older and less attractive then the ladies I observed earlier. I get the impression that this is where the less successful women wind up after a stint on the main strip.

Standing amidst the crowded hustle and bustle of Dolly, I’m reminded, of all places, of the Amsterdam red light district. The similarities are remarkable. We have very narrow streets, hustlers, dodgy looking establishments, scantily clad women on display, red lights everywhere, gangs of young men egging each other on, single guys slouching between windows, motorcycles instead of bicycles and karaoke joints blaring Indonesian pop music and wafting cloves instead of coffee shop joints wafting colitas. Add to this the fact that the Dutch once ruled this place and the feeling is complete. What makes it all the more interesting is that they’ve taken the red light district of Amsterdam and mixed in the Asian massage parlor fishbowl treatment.

One might argue that Amsterdam has some absolutely astonishingly beautiful women available, and I can’t dispute that. However, it also has some, well, just plain scary women (and I use the term women in its broadest sense). On average, Amsterdam far outshines Dolly, but then for every single fifteen-minute visit to a kamer in De Wallen, you can visit ten Dolly girls for one or two hours each.

As I walk down another narrow alleyway, I hear singing. Not the horrible screech and wail of the karaoke bar, but actual melodic lilting. Dumfounded, I trace it to the source; a very narrow building with a double door. Inside are several rows of benches, full of people swaying as they sing. Well, that’s the final link to Amsterdam. While not anywhere near the size of the Oude Kerk, nevertheless, Dolly has a bonafide Christian church. You’d never notice it as you walk past, but if a mass is in progress, you’ll spot it easily enough.

Dolly is big - way bigger than any brothel district I’ve ever seen (I don’t count Pattaya because that’s not technically a brothel district). Overall, I like the place; it has a great vibe. I don’t feel the least bit threatened by the local guys, who don’t seem the least bit threatened by me. Unlike Amsterdam, it’s not the sort of place I’d visit just to hang out, but a blast to explore.

I take my second pass through the main drag, determined to find something to my liking. I’m very picky. I like to have some sort of connection with the girl I throw over my shoulder and drag into the back room for a shag. I want her to be attractive, but not necessarily beautiful (as I have found the beautiful ones often don’t try so hard). As I return to their establishments, the touts recognize me and express surprise that I held true to my departing words of “I’ll be back later.”

I’m no longer in my explorer boots and hat, but in full sanuking mode. I walk into the fishbowl and go right up to the girls. With a big smile I say hello and wave. Nothing. Not a smile from a single member of the dour assembly. When I retell this story to an ex-pat who spent a considerable amount of time in Java, he claimed that I would have had a very different response had I greeted them in Indonesian.

After a few more houses, I decide to blow 90,000 IDR on a cute babe. I figure I gotta at least get my wick wet. The girl I’m eyeing, an eight out of ten, is barely five feet tall and less than a hundred pounds soaking wet. I point her out and she slides from the bench without affecting the bored look on her face. As she nears me in the corridor leading to the back rooms, I smile and hold out my hand. Imagine my surprise when she bursts into a huge grin and takes my hand. “Do you want to go with me?” I ask. She responds with an enthusiastic nod of her head and bigger smile. “Well, this might turn out OK after all” I say to myself.

She guides me back to her room. “Condom?” she asks. Uh, oh. Is this the sort of place where condoms are optional? I nod my head and she opens the door to call to an attendant. A moment later two condoms arrive. Whew

We undress; douche off in the cinderblock cubical shower/toilet in her room, and hop into bed. She has a terrific body and I am lusting after her. What transpires is not the wild sex that I had so anticipated. My girl is none too happy with my (average) endowment and begins complaining within fifteen minutes of our congress. I make the most of it, attempting to accommodate her, but soon give up. I mean, ninety thousand Rupiahs comes out to around ten clams! I call it quits and get dressed.

As I leave, the tout hits me up for 110,000 IDR. “Um, no. We agreed on ninety.” He informs me that the condoms are ten thousand each. I give him a hundred grand and tell him to collect the other condom from the girl. I leave unsatisfied, but not unhappy. On to the next brothel!

I revisit a few more places and pick out a contender. She’s as short as the previous girl, but built more firmly, if you know what I mean. What attracts me to her is the fact that she makes eye contact with me as I walk in. Strange selection criteria, I know, but there you have it. She’s cute, a seven out of ten.

We go back into her small room, decorated with Indonesian pop star posters, and undress. She takes my clothes and hangs them up with her own. Her body is slim and athletic, not skinny like the previous conquest. We get clean in the cinderblock cubical adjacent to the bed. I’m pleased to discover that she’s “neat and tidy,” no hair from the nose down.

In bed, I receive the rewards for a hard day of exploring Surabaya and an equally hard night of exploring Dolly. My girl is enthusiastic, accommodating, fun, happy and a pleasure to engage. Upon completion, we shower and return to bed. She’s in no hurry to get back to the fishbowl so we talk in broken English. I’m so relaxed that I actually fall asleep in her arms. A knock at the door interrupts our slumber and we dress hurriedly.

I take another walk around the district, peeking inside the larger bars to see what’s happening. Some places are in full swing with live bands, others have girls performing on stage to canned music. All of them are entirely too damn loud.

I note the folks dancing. While there are plenty of attractive girls gyrating to the music, there are plenty more guys dancing with each other. Indonesian guys are not shy about dancing and will do so with their pals as readily as with their gals. Hands in the air, some clutching Bintang bottles, they laugh and holler and have a blast.

I feel so satisfied that I decide to call it a night and make my way to the road. A cab pulls up and someone gets out. “Good timing!” I think to myself. As the fellow exiting the cab turns around, I do a classic double take. Standing a few feet away is the first white guy I’d seen all evening. He looks a bit bewildered as he gazes around him. “A newbie?" I think, "Here?” I have to get the guy’s story. I walk up to introduce myself.

I suspect he might be a Hombre. No. Maybe a, um, you know, tourist of some sort? No. I soon learn the fellow simply got into a cab and asked the driver to take him to somewhere fun. “Yeah,” I told him, “this place can certainly be described as fun.”

I’d say he’s a borderline monger. He’d spent several months in the Philippians and knew the score there. As we walk, I give him the low down on Dolly. He’s not impressed, he likes to spend a few hours talking to a girl and getting to know her. That doesn’t happen in Dolly - unless you speak Indonesian.

Since he’s not interested in employing the local talent, we go through some degree of trouble to find a small bar not blasting karaoke music. With a couple of Bintang on ice, we compare travel notes. This guy is quite a bit younger than me, but financially … well, let’s just say I hate him and leave it at that. A few years ago he scored big and can now afford to travel the world at his leisure. The guy has been damn near everywhere and makes it a point to spend several weeks at each location, really getting to know the place. His favorite destination? Colombia. He has me convinced I should take my next trip there. That just happens to be the favorite destination of my mongering hero, El Burro.

At midnight, small rockets start flying into the air, ushering in the New Year. It’s not organized show, but just locals letting go with whatever they’ve picked up at the market. After a while, I decide it’s time to return to my run down hotel and get some sleep. I bid my companion, and Dolly adieu.

Nice writing and interesting content.

Thanks.

Very nice, thank you.

I find it worrisome how often you see the comments regaring ceweks complaining about "average endowment" in westerners. Maybe average sizes in SEA males are less? or is this just a convinient excuse?

More importantly is how to best deal with that: just firmly tell the girl to put out and be quite? Ease up hoping she would get into it? Completely ignore her and keep on going? It is a bit of a buzz kill if it continues.

I think the guys dancing with each other and throwing their hands in the air is a result of the Indo drug of choice....XTC.

Awesome report. I like the writing style. Except it somehow makes it sound classier than it actually is.

"Uh, oh. Is this the sort of place where condoms are optional?" I almost fell out of my seat on that one. Errr Ummmm The 10,000Rp price for the condom may have been legit due to they didn't actually know where to get one of them things and had to dispatch an ojeck driver to go to some far away market where they once heard rumors such things as condoms existed. (just kidding)

And not only is there a Christian enclave and church in Dolly but it's also the only place where I have ever seen a tiny open storefront mosque with a couple of dozen faithful sitting on the floor in their little white beanies, rocking back and forth reciting the Koran as half a dozen rather hard core hookers occupied the storefront directly across the 8 foot wide alley beckoning customers and blaring karaoke music.

Concarne there is wide spread rumors amongst working ladies that white guys have enormous dicks and since most of them have never actually been with a white guy before, they sometimes prefer to avoid the unknown. Or something like that. I pretty much do as Wombat88 did his second time around. Walk in, show yourself and gauge the reaction of the ladies to your presence. They are rarely overly forward but you can pretty much tell by looking if they want to be with you or not and if they look like they would rather not, it's likely to be a lousy session. I'm getting 80%-90% totally awesome sessions in Surabaya but that is choosing out of the 40% of the ladies who actually look like they want to go with me.

Figure 60% of the ladies don't want to go with a foreigner and I avoid them, 20% will and have a really great work ethic and 20% will give you the rock star treatment and seem to have even more fun than I do. Get good at choosing based on subtle non verbal clues and every session will be an awesome session. At least thats how I hit my groove.

"I think the guys dancing with each other and throwing their hands in the air is a result of the Indo drug of choice....XTC."

In the disco's, that's a whole nother story but in the karaokes of Dolly the drug of choice would be massive amounts of warm beer and some kind of potentially lethal palm moonshine. Which the friendly local guys will gladly share and in fact practically insist you drink with them as their guest, even at their expense. And outside on the street amongst the gangster looking crowd, shabu shabu would be the drug of choice.

Do you have any photos to go with this report?

Master Bates.

Wombat88,

Holy Moses, is that really you Wombat88???

Long time no hear from my friend. I thought maybe Rio had did you in and they NEVER complained about your "endowment" did they.

Nice to see you back on the board.

BTW-You had a pretty good camera in Rio, I remember, so shall we be seeing some photos added to your epic tale?


Cheers,


Cubanut

Thank you, gentlemen. Unfortunately, I elected to leave the camera at the hotel on this particular sojourn. For my first excursion to Dolly, I thought it wise to travel light and not be a thief magnet. As it turned out, I worried needlessly. Dolly really does require photos to do it justice, hopefully some other intrepid soul will oblige us.

I've run into the "too big" scenario before, but only in SEA (never in Brazil, heh, heh). I have no doubt that European stock is larger than local offerings and that it could be uncomfortable for a gal who's not up for the encounter, but that's just the point, isn't it? I've seen enough porn films where a gal oozes onto a monster dick and loves every minute of it - because she's into it. It really does take the fun out of it when with every stroke your girl is saying "Ugh!" instead of "Oh!"

Always carry a can of Valvoline 10W40 with you in Asian countries

Wow. Really enjoyed this extremely well-written piece. You painted a real nice picture of the place.

Can someone clue me in on what is shabu shabu? I've heard it mentioned, but don't know what it is or how it is ingested. Thanks...

Nice literary style report for sure.

Shab Shabu is chrystal Meth that is smoked.

So is this Shabu as widespread as X in Indo? I have read a lot about the X scene in discos and what not and the potential for problem if stopped...I can deal.

But this shabu is another animal, I would not want to be in my room with a chick johnesing for more shabu.

Geeze, I was kinda hoping MX had told me is was a sticky, green, leafy substance, lightly sprayed with poppy juice, commonly rolled or smoked in a pipe. Now that I could go for. Meth? Fuggitaboutit...

As much as it pains me to utter this phrase I must.... "Just say no to drugs" in Indonesia these days. Basically a couple of years ago there was a structural change in effective policy. As a foreigner you will be time and big money will only by you a reduced sentence even for ganja. There is an expat guy in Batam who is in jail for having a shabu shabu pipe in his room and maybe a couple of roaches. $15,000 only bought him a reduction from 7or 8 years of jail time to 1-2 years. Still his life is fucked. Hell my former local Indo GF is now in the Pokey. She got caught in a raid at an ex-pat bar next to Lucy's in batam. She is evidently ina limbo state in police custody before she goes off to the real jail. I am sure the dialy provision of porn style BJ's and the potential some bule rupiahs will set her free are keeping her from geting a harsh sentence. Just like her freind known to some on this board got over a year ago.

I know some folks on CH like to indulge in X in Indo. I sincerely hope that nothng bad every happens to them. But I think that would be insane in a place like Jakarta with the frequent police checks. If you take X in a disco choose one you can walk back to your hotel from, or one were you can hang until you come down.

As Chapelle said in half baked. "I love marijuana, I mean I really love marijuana..... but not as much as I love pussy!"

MX is certainly right on that issue. No dissention there.

Huevon, for the green leafy substances you seek, stick to Cambodia or Laos. It's cheap, everywhere and only carries minor legal implications in those countries. Unless you are dumb enough to have a brick of it, at worst you might get shaken down for a few $$ and they would probably even let you keep your stash. I wouldn't touch it in Indonesia.

I wouldn't touch the shabu shabu anywhere. Especially not in Indonesia. No real upside and the HUGE possible downside. All around bad stuff. None the less it is hugely popular in Surabaya. Locals like it because it costs them 30k Rp whereas E costs then 120k Rp or more. The gangster guys standing around Dolly all spun out on shabu shabu mainly just stand around in the street and look crazy, because they don't have any money to go with ladies or drink booze in the karaoke’s. Due to they spent all their money on shabu shabu. But they don't seem to cause any real trouble because as low level street vermin, they would get their head thumped by the business owners in the area if they started running off the customers who do have money.

The much larger issue is not what you are doing, but what is your lady doing. For a taxi ride home from a disco. I now have a healthy paranoia about what any lady may have in her purse and have taken to personally verifying this detail and that she is in possession of a valid ID each and every time I get in a taxi with a lady. The ladies understand the road block issue and tend to be pretty understanding if you question them extensively on those points.

My take is that 'some' of the discos in 'some' places are selling 'some' stuff so openly and with such complete utter impunity and clearly with management and ownerships total sponsorship and direct participation that they are obviously protected at a very high level. Thus, so long as you are puking money in their fine establishment, it is a protected zone. Other places, wouldn't touch it with a 10' pole. Which places are which. Stick to MX's advice. Just say no.

"The much larger issue is not what you are doing, but what is your lady doing. For a taxi ride home from a disco. I now have a healthy paranoia about what any lady may have in her purse and have taken to personally verifying this detail and that she is in possession of a valid ID each and every time I get in a taxi with a lady."

This is partly what I was worrying about, thanks for the good advice IAS.