May 28 - June 4
Sorry this report is so very late, folks, but keyboarding has not been easy since I've been back...
Much anticipated and long-planned, this particular girls trip was supposed to be all about fun, the pursuit of pleasure, and trying to indulge champagne tastes on a cooking sherry budget. A get-together of four rugged individuals hell-bent on cramming as many new and wonderful experiences as possible into a very short period. Ruby, Caro, Kim and I were the participants. We arrived at different times, and stayed for varying numbers of days.
I flew J* out of Melbourne on May 28. When I received an email the week before, offering an upgrade for $199, I snapped it up. I had a great flight! What a treat to be offered bubbles before take-off, more leg room, a pleasantly drawn-out meal topped off with Baileys and good plunger coffee, excellent company, and the entertainment gizmo to keep me from getting bored. I even got to see ‘The Impossible', which I'd missed when it first came out. (In retrospect, it was most unwise to watch a movie about a tsunami before spending a fortnight in an earthquake zone, but there you go.)
Because I was on my own and getting into Bali fairly late, I'd arranged for VIP arrival. The chap speeded me through formalities, waited with me for my case, translated ‘cat food' for the customs man, and guided me to a waiting car to transfer me to my hotel. Plane door to hotel reception in about an hour - I didn't begrudge the $30 cost.
I like to stay at the Grand K when in Legian. I much prefer the quieter end of Jl Werkudara, with no pickpockets, beggars, hustlers or dealers to contend with. The hotel hadn't changed at all since I last stayed there in November - apart from room rates, which had jumped 18% in six months.
The first two days were my solo days to puddle about and get a few things done. On Day One I did a lot but a little. I walked to Bintang for provisions; was accosted by six timeshare touts in half an hour; drank iced tea at Waroeng Asia, where I bought CDs and watched the morning unfold. I also got my nails seen to at Eden Green and had dinner at Sang Ria. Nothing startling ... I just eased gently into holiday mode.
On Day Two I visited the dental clinic at the new BIMC facility, where I expected to spend $1500 on getting a crown. Instead, the dentist repaired my broken tooth and did a scale and clean. One hundred dollars all up. I was happy! I was especially impressed with the nifty technology that projected the inside of my mouth onto a screen for me to see, and showed images of my teeth pre and post clean.
The new hospital is rather grand, with all the bells and whistles. At the time I thought to myself that if I had to go to hospital, I wanted to go there. As I sit here now, typing one-handed, I realise how foolish it was to tempt fate...
After an agreeable afternoon shopping at Galleria, where I blinded everyone with my dazzling new smile, I hurried back to prepare for the first girls get together. That night, Kim, Ruby and I met for happy hour at the N'soma, followed by dinner at Bistrot on Eat Street - well worth a visit if you've not been there before: impressive decor, pleasant ambience and good food at reasonable prices.
The next day was the first Big Day. Caro, Queen of Spas, arrived in late the night before, and we had PLANS. In the afternoon she whisked me off to Santai, a Bali fave of hers in Padma Utara, for a two-hour treatment. I am now hooked! Relaxing ambience, appropriate music, refreshments, practitioners who knew their stuff. About $15 for the experience. Seriously good stuff - bookings required!
Later that afternoon, we four gals dressed for the occasion and converged upon M*tis for happy hour and free canapés. Here we had an eerie experience: we became The Invisible Women.
It's kinda nice to be greeted when you enter a restaurant. Asked what you want, whether you have a booking, where you'd like to sit. Maybe be treated as if somebody values your custom. They manage to do all this without any problems at my local RSL, so it's that difficult. But not at M*tis. This must've been because we'd already morphed from flesh and blood women into fabulous gossamer creatures that staff could look right through without really seeing.
We wandered out the back, overlooking the rice paddy, and shared a seat with a phone that sat forgotten and plugged into a power outlet. The place teemed with pretty young things in neat uniforms, none of whom paid us any attention. We waited for someone to bring us a menu... and waited some more. Ruby eventually managed to get us a drinks list. Happy Hour offerings were limited and uninteresting, and the free canapés simply didn't come our way. Staff passed us by, trays loaded with thingummies, while we waved hopefully, trying to calm our rumbling tums. We found that the easiest way to sample the free food was to wrestle passing waitresses to the floor... (‘Here, I'll sit on her while you hold her arms, Kim. Ruby, grab the nosh - quick!!!' Desperate times indeed!)
We really should've gone elsewhere for dinner... but we didn't. Instead, we chose to move to the restaurant in search of the five-star gastronomic treat that M*tis was supposed to offer. ‘What should we do with this phone?' Ruby asked, picking up the phone that was by now well and truly powered up.
‘Why don't we take a few happy snaps so the owner can remember a wonderful evening?' I suggested. So Ruby, ace photographer, snapped pics of us waving happily, a few of me at my most attractive with cheeks puffed and tongue sticking out, one of her feet (her trademark) - all pointless, really, because we were The Invisible Women and wouldn't come out in the shots - and one of the rice paddy. I hope the owner eventually returned for the phone and appreciated our thoughtfulness...
Sorry to say that the next part of our M*tis experience was anything but a five-star gastronomic treat. Invisible Women clearly didn't need to eat. We gnawed on our fingernails and kept up a running commentary on the impressive stream of LAMPs who strutted past our table. Staff bustled about, opening wine and fussing over everyone... but us.
We finally flagged down a waiter and ordered our meals, which took so long to come that we swooped on the free bread and snarfed it down in seconds. The food that was finally served was 50% nice and 50% nasty. I think Ruby's and Caro's dishes were okay, but Kim and I both ordered confit of duck. As soon as I cut into the meat, I knew mine wasn't up to scratch - Kim's wasn't either.
Here's the dilemma: do you eat a sub-standard meal, or do you return it and risk Chef spitting into your next dish? Given M*tis's reputation, the high prices and inexcusable lack of service, I decided to complain. When I told a waiter that my duck was tough as a gumboot, he said he'd tell the chef. He left me scowling at my plate and disappeared. We never saw him again.
So there I was, picking at my vegies and becoming increasingly ticked off. I called over another waiter and pointed out the rubber duckie swimming in congealed fat on my plate. He too disappeared to tell Chef... but at least he returned. Instead of asking if I'd like something else, he gave me some involved and incomprehensible excuse about the confit process. I abandoned all hope of good tucker that evening. I dug listlessly at my meat, hunting down any tender bits, and left the rest for Chef to sample. We skipped dessert and coffee.
Fortunately, M*tis wasn't the promise of food disasters to come - we had some great meals that first week. Mama S the next evening did not disappoint. A big tick for service, ambience and food - and the cocktails were delicious. Biku was excellent, as always, as was SangRia, which also gets a big tick for service, food, drinks and price.
We also did brunch at Boneka on Sunday and pigged out in fine style. We arrived early and got staff to take us on a guided tour. Squeezing into a little buggy, we drove around the lush St Reg gardens, stopping to inspect the spa and its facilities (oh my!), and passing the Hammock Garden on the way back. I would've liked to have seen the turtle nursery, but that will have to wait for another time.
It wasn't just about food and drinkies that week. In between meals, we managed to squeeze in a shopping spree at Carrefour for essential take-home items that cost five times the price at home. Caro also introduced me to the Golden Buffalo, a large store filled with bronzes at amazing prices, where I bought a bronze kiwi and a praying monk for 45K each - bargain! You need to pick through GB's stock fairly carefully, as casting quality varies dramatically, but for those prices, who cares? Some of the larger pieces were wonderful, but they would have needed to be shipped home.
On the Monday, Caro and I went to Ubud. Caro had booked a car and driver for the day for 350K through the Fast Track company that met us at the airport. It was time to unlock our artistic potential and do a colour workshop at the Bali Center for Artistic Creativity. When we finally found the place, we spent the next few hours with prisms, coloured chalk and hair spray. Not sure I'll hang my masterpieces any decade soon, but the class was a lot of fun. Lunch was at Warung Lada in Jl Hanoman - a great meal for two with cold drinks, which came in at 66K! Then, each armed with two boxes of cat crunchies, we visited Villa Kitty Bali to say hello to all the rescued moggies needing adoption. We also checked out Bali Brasco on the way back, which wasn't worth the visit.
The dream holiday began to unravel before long. Kim and Ruby began to ail, developing coughs and general aches and pains. Caro had been plagued by a frozen shoulder for weeks, which needed surgery and was giving her constant grief. And me? I was hurrying to the front desk at GK to meet the driver, who'd arrived early to collect us for our treatment at Prana Spa on the Tuesday, our last full day in Legian. As I approached Reception, my foot slipped out of my shoe. I tripped and toppled sideways into the garden, taking out a light on a metal pole on my way down. There I sat, covered in dirt, with a bloodied knee and foot, and a right wrist that hurt like a mofo.
People helped me to a nearby chair. I was on the point of passing out. The security guard arrived with cotton wool and Betadine. We thought it wise to reschedule the spa treatment and find me a ground floor room to lie down in, until I was able to climb the stairs to get to my own room.
Caro cabbed it to the nearest pharmacy to buy me a bandage, a sling, disinfectant and anti inflammatories. When I struggled back to my room, I sat on the veranda, drank two large G&Ts and waited until the pain dulled enough for me to nap. I was in a state of total denial: my wrist couldn't possibly be broken; it was merely sprained and would be fine in a few days. I still had a week of holiday to go, and I was determined to enjoy it.
Somehow I dragged myself away from my bed that evening, to meet Kim and Ruby at P'man Nirvana and share a bottle of French champagne. It was Kim's last evening in Bali, and we wanted it to be special. We sat in Ruby's plush room, sipping Veuve and trying to be cheery. Ruby and Kim were coughing and snuffling big time. Caro was trying to ignore her frozen shoulder. I was ashen with pain, sitting in a dress made soggy from the wet towel draped around my arm. What a sorry bunch!
We walked very slowly to Ketumbar, which had been a smart restaurant with an interesting menu the last time I'd eaten there. That was a few years ago, however, and things had changed. So we decided on Ultimo instead and jumped in a cab, me nursing my damaged wrist in the front seat, listening to the cabbie beside me: sniff-grunt, sniff-grunt, sniff-grunt, all the way to Eat Street. Nothing like the sound of mucus to dull the appetite. None of us enjoyed our meal much. Our last girls night out in Legian was a very subdued affair.
Part 2 to come: Pain and shopping in Sanur