Oct 2010. Days 4 to 7: Wild Thing

Oct 2010. Days 4 to 7: Wild Thing

I forgot to mention that Saturday was a ceremonial day in Bali for cars & motorbikes.  Many cars & bikes were decorated with palm-leaf woven designs.  Many people were at home washing their modes of transport for the ceremony said my taxi driver on the way to Kuta.  This explains why my trip to Discovery Plaza only took 15-20 mins, not 2 hours as I was informed happened the other day.  I am grateful to the gods of transport for allowing me speedy and safe passage. 

Another wild Saturday night in Bali, watching DVDs until 2 am.  I’m such a party animal. With my late night, I was much later getting up. I wasn’t up early enough to rescue some fallen frangipani from the pathway – they’d all been swept away. I was also disappointed to see my fake tan fading in patches this morning, leaving my legs looking like they have a skin disease. Not a good look.

Apparently 9:15 am is breakfast peak hour, so much disappearing of food before it can be loaded onto one’s plate.  Breakfast at Villa Puri Ayu is very good.  Harsh critics on Trip Advisor must be very difficult to please! I’m loving it. 

One girl in her early 20s, a skinny little thing, ate an enormous breakfast – twice what I would eat, and that’s saying something.  I was in admiration of her metabolism. No I wasn’t. I was outright jealous. I decided she must have a tape worm.  It is the only fair explanation. 

I have a french door into my room.  I keep one side bolted & slip in and out through the other side.  I only just fit.  I could open the other side, but I have decided to use it as is to gauge whether I am putting on weight, in the absence of scales.  If I put on too much, no doubt you will hear of  ‘middle-aged woman stuck in hotel door….’ ‘lard required to lubricate woman out of doorway….’ ‘Toblerone mousse suspected culprit for woman stuck in door saga…’ ‘woman previously trapped in doorway now in hiding…’  On that note, Coke Zero for me tonight!

Oi! Just spotted someone reclining in MY bale! Hey! Get out of MY pool!  The absolute cheek of some people!  I think it was tape-worm girl.  OMG, now there are children swimming in my pool! Good God, don’t tell me tape-worm girl has had children with that figure?  Someone kill me now.

Lunch today at Bobby’s on the beach.  Good Bakmi Goreng. Quite cheap.  Fun watching someone try to stand on waterskis, and failing to the amusement of beach cafe patrons.  He got a round of applause from some when he finally made it upright for more than 5 seconds.

Tonight I met up with Lisa & Dorothy from the forum at The Wicked Parrot.  Lovely ladies. Enjoyed swapping experiences and BTF gossip (ears burning?).  The chicken cordon bleu I ate was delicious.  I’ll definitely be back to have that again, provided I’m still fitting through the door.  Also popped into the Duckz Nutz briefly, so I know where to come for drinks on Friday. I hadn’t been up the north end of Sanur before.  There are no huge holes to disappear in the footpath up there.  No siree. It’s much posher than my end.  Now passing a lot of restaurants previously recommended and a lot more boutiques.  I think a trip up here again in daylight is on the cards.  Not before I hit the ATM though.

Does the thought of those fish spas give you the heebie-jeebies? All those little slimy mouths nibbling away your dried flesh….ew! I saw one at Hardy’s on my quest for bubblewrap & for a nano second, I thought it might solve my fake tan vitiligo problem if I dangled my legs in up to my knees. But the thought has made my hair stand on end. I’m super ticklish too so I think it would be torture. Oh-oh, toes curling at the thought too. Strike it off my list then.

I took a taxi down to the beach end of Jl Sindhu yesterday to go to the Beach Cafe for lunch. My taxi driver was Peter Brock reincarnated, wanting to meet his maker & not worried about me having my arm yanked out of it’s socket while I clung for dear life to the handle, sliding from one side of the back seat to the other.  I should have taken his number. Can you sue taxi drivers for whiplash? Mercifully it was a quick trip, and I leapt out & bolted (after paying of course). I resented having to tip when I was nearly killed.

The beach looked fantastic – the sun was out & twinkling on the surface, there were people in the water, boats skimming along in the breeze, sun lounges doing a roaring trade. Gorgeous.  I walked down the sand to take a few photos to post on my FB page for some holiday envy.

I know rule 101 is do not engage, but she started talking to me, trying to engage me in conversation, asking me to look in her shop, business was slow, she had to feed her family, you know how it goes. I walked along the boardwalk, answering only in monosyllables but she was undeterred.  I looked at the Beach Cafe – the few tables inside were occupied but only 1 person sitting at the ‘picnic’ tables.  I didn’t fancy sitting there & standing out like a sore thumb, so kept walking & decided to eat at Benno’s, who’s outdoor furniture looked more comfy, my new BFF in tow.  I sat near the shore & enjoyed my hamburger with egg & finished by Kathy Reichs novel.  As I got up to leave, I heard a familiar voice reminding me to come to her shop.  I went to the toilet, and on exiting there was my new BFF aka stalker, tugging on my arm to come to her shop.  Now if she had of left it at just asking I might have had a quick look but tugging on my arm got right up my nose.  Leave it alone lady.  I’m not shopping today I replied as I rescued my appendage & walked off.  I’d forgotten how persistent these women can be.  I know they are just trying to earn a living, but I prefer sincerity and less feeling like a mark.  I walked along the boardwalk & admired some of the beachfront hotels & was thankfully left alone.

I saw a big red ant at lunch. It was trying hard to get into my camera case while I was lunching at Benno’s.  I’m used to seeing the little ones everywhere, but I don’t think I’ve seen really big ants before, that I can remember. I know spiders can grow big here (there goes the hair on my arm!). On my first visit to Bali in the ’80s, the first hotel I ever stayed at was Hotel Tjampuhan in Ubud. (the one I kept shorting the power with my hairdryer.) Pura 1 up, if I recall. They had a peacock in a cage on the upper slopes.  I’d never heard such caterwauling & I went to investigate what was making the noise & nearly walked into the mother of all spiderwebs (toes curling now too) where a HUGE spider resided. Holy crap, it was enormous. I had no idea I could scream better than Jennifer Love Hewitt. I hate spiders.  I hate them more than rats, snakes & politicians, and I’m none too fond of any of them either.  Normally I have a Buddhist-like philosophy about all living creatures with a couple of exceptions – food & anything with more than 4 legs.  I’ve watched those David Attenborough docos, so I know they want to take over the world, the devious creepy buggers. They have no business being alive in my vicinity. I have shares in PeaBeu.  To this day, I have not laid eyes on that peacock, just believed that it was there and making that noise.  I don’t need to see for myself anymore.

One of the downsides of dining alone is there is no conversation to hide that of nearby tables, or distract you.  I can’t help overhearing what people at other tables are talking about, especially if I cock my ear in that direction. Last night at dinner this older couple near me spent 10 minutes eyeing off my wine trying to decide if it’s from Bali or Spain, should they order wine over cocktails, should they buy a whole bottle or a carafe.  They went on & on. I think they thought they couldn’t be heard or that I’m deaf.  The woman had one of those loud Aussie down at the farm twangs, handy if she was a ventriloquist by trade with that voice projection! By the time I’d finished my meal, I was kinda thinking deafness would be welcome, and would I really look stupid with screwed up tissues hanging out of my ears?  Lordy, lordy someone shoot me if I end up sooooo boring as that couple. In case you hadn’t twigged yet, I’m a foodie, as in love with food.  If you ever meet me, you might have a bit of a clue that’s true.  Not quite to Matt Preston’s proportions yet! (I want his job). Anyway, even as a foodie, I could not talk about food for a solid hour like this couple. Shut the f**k up! (sorry, I was writing some of this at the time). At one stage I looked fondly at my bread & butter knife, thinking of a much better use for it (queue shower scene music from Psycho).

I hope they don’t read the forum. I won’t mention where I dined, just that it was Italian. And they sell gelato out the front. I definitely had to breathe in a bit to slide through the door to my room on my return. It must have shrunk in the rain.

And I heard a definite groan from the slats under the mattress, like a muffled oooomph get off me.  How rude!

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