Bagusbabe's Reflections

Day 11: Soup for the Soul

When I woke up early this morning I lay in bed for an hour catching up with the news. I shed a tear or two for poor Willow, the elephant calf born in June who lost her battle with life overnight at the Melbourne Zoo. So sad. Her poor mum & zoo keepers. I hope they have a rainbow bridge for pachyderms.

I make myself clean & presentable for breakfast. After descending Kosiosko, I bag myself a sun lounge with my towel. MY sun lounge, under the purple hibiscus laden tree on the far side of the pool. I feel gleeful. I plan on spending a lazy day at the pool today.

It’s busy at breakfast. Chef forgot to put cheese in my tomato & cheese omelette. I heard the waitress give him a ticking off. The turtles have quite a few morsels of soggy bread floating in their pond. They are not hungry, not even the greedy lads. No sign of craning necks saying gimme gimme this morning. I hope carbs don’t give them tummy aches.

Back in my room the houseboys are there again at an inopportune time. My pelvic floor is getting a workout while I wait. TMI?
I ready myself for the pool. Hair in a bun, sarong over bathers, beach towel & noodle under arm.  I also pack my power pack in case my iPhone or iPad run low. Before I leave, I check the balcony door – open! Grrr!

I’d not long settled in MY sun lounger under MY tree when a senior I hadn’t seen before arrives to claim the other lounger & drag another in between us for hubby who isn’t here yet. It’s very cosy now.
I write, read & relax. The sun is out, the sky blue & heaps of hotel guests are moving loungers to my side of the pool to catch some rays. The pool is prime real estate today! No boisterous boys (yay). This side of the pool also houses a double storey building of rooms & is a favourite of repeat visitors. I can here some of them trade banter with the staff gardening or cleaning nearby, calling them by name. I’m getting hot under my tree so time to take noodle for a dip. I float aimlessly until my skin shrivels & then it’s back to the latest exploits of Harry Potter, which I am enjoying reading.

Another hour passes & I’m hot again. Into the pool I go. There is a manicurist giving poolside pedicures to the seniors under my tree. They seem to know each other. I get out of the pool, stash noodle under my lounger & start writing again.

It’s lunchtime, my stomach tells me. I don’t think I’ll go on a hunt for food. A waitress is at the poolside bar, so I take the opportunity to order a cheeseburger with egg & a Diet Coke & bill it to my room. On hearing me say my room number, another senior sitting at the bar with his Bintang informs me we are next door neighbours. Fancy! How do you find the stairs? Difficult, he guffaws. He is quite loud & gregarious but as I don’t fancy exchanging further witticisms, I simply smile & return to my tree.

As I am waiting for lunch, I see wheelie’s husband dressed & upright. I ask how he is feeling. On the improve after an awful 24 hours. I commiserate. He’s banned from swimming for a couple of days. Lunch arrives & he leaves me to it.  My burger is very tasty. Juices dribble all over my fingers as I eat. The barside senior is holding court with another couple. His booming ocker voice easily heard from my side of the pool.

I’m still poolside at 4pm for afternoon tea. A first for me. I grab a cup of tea & a folded crepe. My last dip in the pool left me feeling a bit chilly, so time to call it & go back to my room. 6.5 hours at the pool is a good effort, even for a sloth.

I change out of my damp bathers & hang all on the towel rack on the balcony, locking the door behind me. My electronics need recharging, as I have to increase their brightness when  wearing my sunglasses. I decide to run a bath. The water pressure is not great so this could take a while. I brought some radox muscle soak with me. I have bubbles. I don’t always have the greatest success getting out of baths in Bali. I size the bath up. Yeah, I reckon I can take it on. So I hop in, fold a towel for a pillow & send gratitude out there for the inbuilt raised circles on the bath base that prevent me from slipping under. Ahhhhhh! I do love me a bath! When I let the water out, a sewerage-like smell wafted in the bathroom. Most unpleasant but fortunately short lived. I was able to climb out of the bath unscathed. Me:1, bath:0.

Someone recommended Soul in a Bowl for good food. That’s where I’m going for dinner. Dressed, semi decent for a change, I present myself to the reception for the booking of a taxi. One arrives within 10 minutes despite a guest telling me she can never get a taxi at this hour. Ye of little faith. Easy peasy. I jump in & ask the driver to take me to Soup in a Bowl. He looks at me blankly, so I show him the screen shot of their address I had prepared earlier. Ok. He reminds me that there is a 30,000rp minimum for booking. No problem. We find the restaurant easily enough.

I’m seated just inside the inside. as the outside is full. Not a big place but popular. And so many wait staff! They’re everywhere. One brings over the specials blackboard to show me, flips it to show the continuation on the back. You want the pork belly? Erk! No thanks. She looks disappointed. As I read the menu brought by a different waiter, I realise I’d said Soup in a Bowl to the taxi driver, not Soul in a Bowl! Oops! You can understand my faux pas. Soup generally comes in a bowl, does it not!?

I chose to have their housemade duck liver patè to start followed by one of their specials: sticky chicken. The patè is to die for – so yummy. But it only came with 4 tiny slices of toasted sourdough roll. And I mean tiny. Even heaping the patè on each I have over half the patè left. It’s way too good to waste so I order more bread. You may well oink at me – tiny bread, people! & only 4 bits! There were some squiggly shaped crispy things a bit fatter than a egg noodle on the plate too, but they were a bit sweet when I tried them with patè. I received about 8 new slices of tiny toast on a plate & happily demolished my entrée.

A guitarist begins playing old jazz-style stuff like Fly Me To The Moon. Then a sax joins in. Kill me now. They are a bit intrusive noise-wise for such a small establishment. Not my cup of tea at all. I did not have to wait long for my main to arrive. Wow! Photo worthy. A reddish brown glazed breast of chicken with the wing bone attached, but not the tip, sits atop a molded mound of coconut rice (divine) with some chillied green beans spread in between both. I do not like the word moist but it is the best adjective to describe this heavenly chicken. So succulent. Well, there’s another word for it. This is hands down the best meal I’ve had in Bali this trip. If I died on the spot I’d die with a satisfied smile on my face & a knife & fork in my hand. I’m coming back tomorrow night & praying this is still on the menu. The meal is a tad on the expensive side for Bali but well worth it. My extra bread cost 90c.

So I waddle out to the street, full as a goog, having barely restrained myself from licking the plate clean & hail a passing taxi. A quick U-turn & we head back to my hotel. It’s very busy on the streets tonight.

Up Kosiosko again like a normal person, to flop on my bed like an over fed turtle. I finish Harry Potter. A nice easy read. Time for bed.

Sorry, I didn’t do much today. It’s a bit boring for you readers who are used to my action packed adventures! Guess I should have led with that, hey?

Ciao for now,


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