June 2014. Day 3: Brown is not my colour

June 2014. Day 3: Brown is not my colour

I woke up before my alarm, did the usual & got dressed ready for the gym.  I’ve given my fringe a mohawk during the night. Must have been all that tossing & turning on my heavenly pillows with Darcy!  The hotel hairdryer isn’t too bad, so a quick touch up is all that is required.  I was happy to see an email from my trainer with a new workout after I emailed him some pics of the gym equipment available.  The new program looks long though. Damn.

Down in the gym there is one lone sweaty girl working out.  Its so hot in there.  She tells me she reported it, someone came & ‘fixed’ it, but we both knew the air con was not working properly.  Here commenceth my Bikram workout. Holy hell, I sweated like a litter of pigs.  Damn, there’s some cardio at the end if my program. I hate cardio. I like lifting weights. I don’t like doing Tabata-like workouts on a bike. Yuk.  And in this heat? I did 5 of the 14 minutes expected and nearly gave myself a bike seat wedgy. Great, I’ve been here for an hour and a half. I’ll stretch, then I’m done.  One wall is all mirrored.  What a delight it was watching a hot, sweaty, red-in-the-face, panting Jabba The Hutt stretching out & coming to the unfortunate realisation that’s my reflection. So that’s what I always look like when I’m stretching. Like I needed to know. Unsmiley face. Kill me now. I need a girdle.

I had an enlightened breakfast.  I say enlightened because when I sat down with a glass of OJ about to peruse the buffet, I spy the egg station which I somehow missed yesterday. Eggs! Woohoo!  I order an omelette with the lot and load up with bacon, beef sausages (nice ones) & then spy the bread counter. I must’ve been frickin’ blind yesterday! The bread counter is massive & has a toaster, several types of fresh bread you can slice yourself, sliced bread, rolls, baguettes, and a tiered plate with danish, mini croissants, baby donuts (cinnamon & choc iced), muffins & patty cakes. Did I need to see all that? But what has been seen cannot be unseen.  I’m drooling. Carbs. Mmmm, I love carbs.  That and chocolate. And Maggie Beer icecream. I could eat everything on the bread counter twice over. I take a cinnamon donut & hope its stale. It’s not. It’s delicious. I’m doomed. I finish off with tropical fruit & a waffle. And a baby croissant. Yep, the willpower of a gnat.

Back to my room for a shower, but first, a little lie down is called for. I’m on my iPad again.  I should name it Tardis.  Its nearly lunchtime already and time passed me by unnoticed. So I shower & decide to take the hotel shuttle to Seminyak Square.  The receptionist told me I need to book my spot on the shuttle, so I do.  Ten minutes later, myself & 1 other person are on the shuttle bus.  Lucky I booked!  I try to watch where we’re going to orientate myself, but the road is windy & I’m distracted by the sight of so many villas. I thought about staying in a villa, but it would probably reinforce my antisocial tendencies so I decided that a hotel would be better.  Not that I’ve mingled much.  A few brief conversations with people in the gym & the other lady on the shuttle bus just about covers it.  I’m a bit of a turtle, living inside my shell for the most part & popping my head out every now & then when I think it’s safe to stay connected to the human race.

So Seminyak Square is a bit of a disappointment.  Not many shops.  I was expecting a big shopping mall.  I find a café for lunch – I have seafood risotto & a pineapple juice.  I spot a DVD shop across the road.  I peruse the new releases & best sellers & take my selection up to the counter.  I am advised that 3 of the new releases are not 100% yet so I decide not to buy them & then she said she had better copies of 2 others I had chosen out the back so swaps them over.  I am grateful for her honesty.  I wonder who they sell the dodgy DVDs to?  The DVDs were 10,000Rp each, buy 10 & get 5 free. Bargain!

I would have stayed & shopped for more but oh-oh, I get that rolling wave in my lower gut saying get thee to a toilet quick! Oh God, Oh God, please, please, please…..phew!  The sensation disappears, I can relax my clenched buttocks for the time being.  But you & I both know it’s only a temporary reprieve so I must return to the hotel & the privacy of my own bathroom forthwith.  It takes several valuable minutes to hail a taxi.  It’s not a bluebird taxi, but beggars can’t be choosers.  The driver quotes me 30,000Rp.  I demand that the meter be turned on, praying that I win this battle because we are wasting precious time. He sizes me up & I raise my eyebrow & give him ‘The Look’ & he turns the meter on & starts driving. Wise man.  He must think I just came in on the last turnip truck if he thought I was falling for that one.  It’s not that I begrudge paying an extra $1.50 for the trip, its the principal of it & I won’t reward dishonesty, even if I am minutes away from a code brown in the back seat! Oh praise ye the inventor of Imodium, my gut starts its spasms again. Hurry, hurry, hurry I chant in my mind, or you will be sooooo sorry, mate!  The spasm relaxes its hold, I do not relax my hold on my sphincter. TMI? I am clamped tight until we get to the hotel.  Oh God, the stairs! Panting through my mouth like a Lamaze class. I make it to my room, praise be, but that was close.  And that, my friends, is my biggest nightmare of what might happen when I am out & about in Bali.

One of the DVDs I purchased was Breaking Dawn Pt 1.  I forgot that it was a 2-parter until I started it up on the DVD player.  I relax back on my delightfully comfy stack of pillows & watch away.  Damn, I’m going to have to hunt down Pt 2 now.  It was getting late, late for dinner, I mean.  Do I trust my recalcitrant bowels? Room service? Nah, not after last night’s effort.  I jump on the travel forum & look for Seminyak restaurant recommendations. I think I’ll try Rumours.

I ask reception to ring for a taxi.  There is no hope of getting one unless I walk up to the main road.  In the dark? No thanks.  So I get a Bluebird taxi with a rally driver.  Pretty sure we went up a one-way street the wrong way.  He wasn’t giving way to anything. I wonder if he’d be so gun-ho if I told him about my iffy bowels? If he was smart, he’d drive like a nanna.

Rumours was busy, noisy & nearly full.  I get shown to a table in the front corner.  The waitresses look dressed for netball.  I order a glass of sav blanc & their chicken & mushroom fettuccine.  I was given a bread basket with garlic butter.  Gone in 60 seconds, or close to.  My meal arrives & apparently I am supposed to eat it with a knife & fork.  I request a spoon from the surprised waitress. Yes, I plan to eat it, not wear it down my front.  No offer of Parmesan either.  Suddenly there is a cacophony of noise & it takes me a minute to realise that the staff are singing happy birthday to a patron & one of them has 2 coconut halves & is clapping them together with no regard to the rhythm of the song. That was what was making most of the racket.  The recipient looked like she wanted to slide off her chair under the table!  I don’t blame her – she had the attention of the whole restaurant focused upon her. For dessert, I ordered banana pudding with honeycomb ice cream & caramel sauce.  Sounds yummy, right?  It was a wedge of warmed banana cake with ice cream that had no flavour. If I’m going to have dessert, I want to be wowed, not let down. Pouty face.  I want a refund on those calories, please. It’s easy to get a taxi from this restaurant, traffic is pretty close to a standstill.

Back at the hotel, I contemplate having a bath. No, too tired. Time for a quick read & then bed.

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