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 Hardys on my quest for bubblewrap & for a nano second I thought it might solve my fake tan vitilgo 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. Anyone tried it?
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 tout suite & 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 6 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 yummy. And fattening! 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 ooooph get off me. How rude!
Cheers.