15. Back to Bali: quite a lot of ‘no thanks you’ s!

Our final few days in Bali have been very chilled with much eating, beach time and some evening entertainment! I’ve also indulged in a tiny bit of excellent souvenir shopping. It’s like running the gauntlet of retail offers where you have balance the quick slowed pace to glance at a potential purchase while not slowing down down long enough to entice the shop keeping to notice you and then follow you round their shop saying ‘yes, yes’ while holding out a variety of products then chasing you down the street while participating in an entirely one-sided negotiation. Some of the pavements are a tad precarious and I need of a bit of attention too - I suspect these trip hazards have been put in intentionally in order to catch unsuspecting tourists and enable them to be entirely cornered and with no choice but to by the foot long penis shaped bottle opener on offer.  I did also turn down the offer of a tattoo ‘good price, good price’ whose questionable shop sign spelling made me slightly concerned about the lettering and messages he was offering to tattoo about my person! On Monday, it was Shelley’s 40th birthday so a day full of treats, started with a brunch that for me was a tower of toast, eggs, bacon and avocado that was roughly my height then onto a spa … it would have been rude not to join Shelley in her treatments so I opted for a massage and pedicure.

The massage:

I didn’t used to like massages because I felt they were really more a torture session than any kind of relaxation but in Thailand last year, I learnt more about the different ones available and how amazing they can be once you’ve given firm direction on pressure and explicitly requested for them not to include a session of the small Asian masseuses walking on, kneeling on or digging elbows in to any part of you. The nice lady this time said ‘gentle, yes, gentle …’ and told me to strip down to my pants and hop on to the table laying face down, which I did. She then hopped onto the table behind me, sat straddled over the back of me and prepared. I resigned myself to what ever tortoise session including her full weight on me that this was about to contain. However, after a few more ‘this ok?’ … ‘no, you’re squashing the life out of me’ amendments, she got what I meant by gentle (and how different it was from her definition) and it was actually the most excellent of relaxing massages.

The only part that was slightly disconcerting as when she went to do my legs, uncovered each led (from under the towel they lay over you), clearly objected to my nice full pant which entirely covered my bottom, hoicked my pants into my bum full thong style wedgie and proceeded to include my bum cheeks in the massage. To be fair, they are fairly gelatinous and probably ripe for it although she did cover over a little more of my modesty when my slight squirm and whelp revealed how unexpected the ‘full body’ massage was. When she got to my toes (and later hands), she also went to perform the classic tug on each toe / finger manoeuvre in some weird attempt, I assume, to dislocated each of my digits. That time there was considerably more of a squirm and a possible slight kicky motion that quickly negated any further of that! The massage finished with a rub down with a hot flannel - I’m unclear as to whether that was to take off some of oil used or just because she felt I was a bit grubbby.

The pedicure:

Onto the pedicure - she asked if I wanted a basic or full. I asked what the difference was (aside from the price, which in Indonesia is a difference of £5 or £8) and she said the full included a massage and removal of dead skin. She then poked my feet and informed me ‘you need full’. To be fair, I didn’t disagree with her as weeks of diving and being bare foot wrecks my feet! There were various lotions and potions and buffing and filing, the inevitable attempt to dislocate my toes (I saw that one coming and shout a big ‘no’ as she went in for the procedure and we quickly moved past it!). Then the ‘removable of dead skin’ commenced. Initially she just went for the cheese grater file and spent 10 minutes lightly grating my feet. Clearly dissatisfied with this, she then shouted into the back to a colleague who produced once of the razor shaver things. The lady proceeded to then get down on the floor, sit beneath me and spend a good 20 minutes hacking all the dead skin from my feet 🙈.  Once she was satisfied, she then collected a dustpan and brunch and swept up all the shavings and proudly presented to me the skin mountain over-flowing from the dustpan. She was thrilled and said ‘your skin - I tell you you need full’. I wasn’t sure on the exact appropriate response here so I went for a thank you / horrified apology / congratulatory mixture!

Our evenings have included relaxing on the bean bag chairs watching the sunset with a Smirnoff ice (the options are beer or that and since I don’t like beer, I’ve indulged my teenage self from the 90s and had the alcopops), the chairs all have names on for some reason - mine was called Nicki - it really is a chair though and not a new low in the use of slave labour!). On the beach there are an abundance of sellers who approach and try to interest you in buying their various produces ….

Sellers: You want new hat? Light up scarf? Kite? Look, fly kite?

Me: No, thank you

Sellers: you want helicopter? Pack of cards? Yo-yo?

Me: No, thank you

Sellers: you want pretty bracelet? Louis Vuitton handbag?

Me: authentic but no, thank you

Sellers: helicopter?

Me: No, thank you

Sellers: no helicopter?

Me: No, thank you

Sellers: Valium?

Me: pardon?

Sellers: Valium? Good Valium? Good stuff? (Thrusts a packet of pills into your face and starts naming different brands and options he can supply).

Me: oh right. Definitely no. But thank you …

Sellers: helicopter?

Me: still no

Sellers: Valium?

Me: also, still no!

And on it went - they’re vaguely irritating but clearly need to make money somehow and are pretty good at leaving you alone after the surely inevitable ‘no thank you’!

We’ve had dinners which really no matter what you have cost about £5 max each and then last night, after listening to the karaoke - or what we thought was karaoke - the night before from our apartment, we popped in for a drink on our way home only to find that it was an excellent cabaret / drag show but one where the performers have great costumes and dance moves and full put together show but considerably less singing talent than anything else. Nonetheless, it was a great show and atmosphere. The drinks menu and specials in there were the usual array of cocktails and beer with one or two offers.

Grandma - don’t read this bit - it’s ever so sweary and a little vulgar but I can’t take out those bits and still tell the story!….

One of the waitresses came over, flicked through some pages and pointed out a shot drink which she would recommend. ‘Lady, I recommend to you this one special for you. ‘Quick f*ck’. You buy two quick f*cks for special and I give you third free. I thanked her kindly but turned down her generous offer and explained I don’t like shots and asked if any cocktails were on offer. Each time she passed by our table, she’d stop, point and me and ask ‘quick f*ck?’. Each time, I politely declined. After several of these attempts she tried again and reminded me of the option of 3 in her special offer deal and I said, ‘oh no, thank you but I don’t like shots and I don’t need 3 anyway’. To which she replied by pointing to Shelley and I and said ‘one each for you and I want to have quick f*ck with you’. Again, I politely thanked her but declined and spent the evening drinking alternative, much less suggestive and more safely named drinks options!

On the evening of Shelley’s actual birthday, we put our dresses on and went to a fancy restaurant for our dinner - it was so fancy it had palm trees growing inside it. The mark of true class I always think. It even had a dress code (mostly just for men in this world of equality!) and a polite request to keep children away and not let them ruin the adults’ time!

Final full day today, which I suspect will be filled with cups of tea, more eating, reading, sunshine, beach, trying to work out how to reduce the contents and weight of my bag considerably in order to fit in my souvenir treasure stash and perhaps even another massage! I don't learn when it comes to souvenirs; I see things I love so I buy them ... then I have to work out how to get them home- and absolutely no o me te about my already ridiculously over full and heavy case. After some serious bartering hanging off the side of the boat in Komodo to agree a price with the boys that row up and tempt you, I am the proud owner of quite a large scuba dragon. He is excellent and I love him. Just got to work out how to get him into my case along with my two mermaids, collection of magnets and other trinkets! I've got one more day too to continue the as yet unsuccessful mission to locate a thimble anywhere in SE Asia ... I'll keep trying, 23!