My daughter The Princess and I spent most of January in Bali. Our flights had been booked almost a year ahead. I'd gone with Air Asia because of their sale fares for the school holiday period. But if you're flying out of Melbourne, as we were, you certainly don't save any money with AA's fly-through deal from Melbourne to Bali... Not once you've paid for extra baggage, meals, and tempting little add-ons like Red Carpet Service (and OptionTown later on, in the hope of a flat bed upgrade). In retrospect, we would've been better off flying direct with another carrier.
Princess (17) and I departed Melbourne on January 9, first stop KL for a few hours, and then on to Denpasar. We were to spend the first week in a villa, then transfer to Seminyak for five nights, where Dad (90) would join us. We would then spend the last six nights in Sanur.
I've done the extra-long trip with AA before. No frills, no legroom, no entertainment, no sleep. Not a lot of fun, if you ask me. Not that flying Cattle Class is ever much fun, but AA has less individual space than alternative carriers. Each time I do the AA run through KL, I promise myself I'll never fly that route to Bali again. The flight would've been bearable, had our flat-bed upgrade come through, but sadly we ended up stuck upright in economy.
We arrived at Melbourne airport three hours before the flight, hoping to avoid the horrendous queues we'd encountered a few years before. And we still queued for an hour to check in. By the time our flight finally left around 1.30am, Princess and I were already knackered, jammed into narrow seats with no leg room. Even before the flight had taken off, the two gals in front had donned eye masks and laid their seats back - grrr, boy did I jostle the one in front of me!
Princess discovered she'd left her magazines at home, and I discovered my new Kindle, loaded with over 30 books (more than enough to cover the holiday) was a piece of garbage. Here I was with a brand new book I was itching to read, and I couldn't get past page 6. In the end I gave up in disgust and stared at the Exit sign instead, checking the time every five minutes... ‘Are we nearly there yet? Are we nearly there yet?'
On arrival at KL, we were subjected to 70 minutes more queuing to get off the plane and into the LCCT transit terminal. I nearly decked some arrogant sod who was doing his best to push in front of us; fortunately, the gruff security lady was on to him quick-smart and made him behave.
We finally arrived in Denpasar a little after lunch time, cleared quickly through formalities, and were met by the driver from CK Villas, who whisked us away for our first week of luxury living. A week of doing nothing but relaxing and being waited on, with lots of dips in our little pool. This was a Luxury Escapes deal, complete with massages, three-course ‘romantic' dinner, butler service, in-villa breakfasts and transfers.
CK Villas are sometimes listed as being in Jimbaran and sometimes in Ungasan. I knew they weren't anywhere near the beach, but that wasn't a problem (I'm a pool person rather than a beach person, and Bali's beaches tend to be grotty, especially in wet season). Some Trip Advisor reviews reported that the villas were in a remote location not close to anything; others said quite the opposite. I was therefore anticipating us to be staying somewhere with shops and cafes dotted along a quiet road.
In fact, our villas were maybe 100 metres away from a very busy road crowded with trucks, buses, bikes and cars - one of those roads where you stand for five minutes, waiting for a gap in the traffic before desperately stepping out, hoping someone will stop for you. There were a few money changers nearby, as well as a laundry/dry cleaner that was prohibitively expensive, a DVD shop of sorts, a mini mart or two, and an auto repair place, from memory. There wasn't a whole lot to see or do within walking distance
If you know Ungasan at all, you'll probably know the Nirmala Supermarket with the water park out back. That's where we were, directly across from the water park. Even the quieter road out front of our villas was busy enough, bikes whizzing past with monotonous regularity. Management, in their wisdom, put us in the front villa. Within a half hour, I knew we'd have to move; we could hear the traffic from our bed. I put in a request to move to another villa the next day, which we did late afternoon.
The villas themselves were lovely: each one configured the same, with open-air kitchen (very well appointed) and living area beside a plunge pool and bale. Inside, a four-poster bed looked onto an aquarium. Behind the sleeping area, you could step down either side of the bed into the bathroom, the far wall of which was glass to give you that outdoor effect mozzie-free. You could soak in a magnificent spa tub and gaze out onto tropical foliage. Not that I did use the spa, as they're a wicked waste of water and a strain on Bali's flagging resources. But I thought about it regularly...
The best thing about the villas was their proximity to the supermarket. This was a HUGE plus, as The Princess and I found ourselves in there every day, stocking up on fruit, snacks and drinks, and anything we'd forgotten to bring from home.
The worst thing about the villas (apart from the traffic noise) was the step down from the bedroom into the bathroom. This was potentially treacherous if you needed a moonlight wee and forgot where you were - I made sure we slept with the bathroom light on. Another bad architectural idea was the sliding door arrangement from the outdoor deck into the bathroom. One night, monsoonal rain seeped under the gap onto those lovely shiny white tiles. Needing the toilet in the middle of the night, I trod in a puddle and went down in a screaming heap, my right leg twisted under me. I fought back tears of pain and tested my aching limb, terrified that I'd broken my leg this time - breaking my wrist in Bali last June gave my holiday the kiss of death.
However, apart from an impressive bruise and a very sore and weakened leg for the next week or so, I was otherwise undamaged.
Before leaving home, I'd also read a review that there were plenty of cafes in the area we were to stay at. This proved not to be strictly true, unless you wanted to eat UFOs (Unidentified Frying Objects) that would likely have had us glued to the loo for a week. In fact only three places looked ‘safe': Cafe Moka, Warung Satay Club and Nonya Fusion.
Cafe Moka had excellent baked goods, reasonable prices, friendly staff and HOPELESS service. Nothing like waiting 15 minutes for a pineapple-mint smoothie, only to be told ‘sorry, we've run out of pineapples'. Then to wait another 15 minutes for a pesto vegie salad, only to be told ‘sorry, we've run out of vegetables'.
Warung Satay Club offered good juices, friendly staff, and satays so deep fried that the chicken, rendered tasteless by the cooking, had fused to the satay stick.
Nonya Fusion had a little ambiance, and was therefore the best evening meal option. However, the service was VERY slow, and their ‘western' slant ensured that nothing tasted quite right (even mie goreng was a bit weird, and not in a good way).
And not a cocktail to be found anywhere in the area, that I could see. No mojitos, no margaritas, no lime crushes. Nada! Thank goodness for the duty free gin, and the lemons I brought with me from home.
Those first seven days, I ate a lot of eggs, rice, noodles and bread. Poor Princess the Vegetarian, however, was NOT pleased at the lack of choice, particularly as Ms Picky doesn't like fried rice or noodles, nor does she go for gado gado. Our three-course freebie at the villa was interesting, especially the fruit salad and icecream served to us frozen into one solid lump. One night I even cooked dinner myself. This was, without doubt, the worst meal of the week (how I could have mistaken continental parsley for coriander?)
Unfortunately during those first seven days, it rained quite a bit. There wasn't a lot to do at our villa in the rain, especially when we had nothing to read and didn't fancy a dip. There was only one solution: hire a car and GO SHOPPING.
We did this several times that week. Bali Galleria on the first rainy day for books, coffees and endless waiting while Princess bought clothes, clothes and more clothes. We had a meal at Salvador, which kept us both happy.
The next trip was to Kuta Square, to Matahari and Bagus watches. I went into a buying frenzy, as usual, at Bagus Watches. I was leaping about happily, exclaiming over this and that, when I noticed The Princess, freaked out, standing with her back against a wall. ‘What's WRONG?' I asked. ‘They keep following me around,' she replied, wild-eyed, ‘and I don't like it. I wanted to buy a watch too, but I'm not going to now.'
I could only agree that it IS irritating having staff tailing you as you browse, but that's just the way some shops work in Bali, and there's not much you can do about it. Sometimes I play funny-buggers, walking in circles and doing sudden about-faces, speeding up and slowing down, defying my ‘shadow' to keep pace. But mostly I just submit meekly. I tried to explain that the shop assistants were only doing their jobs, but that didn't cut it with The Princess. Only after we'd cooled off with cold drinks and lunch at Dulang did I manage to entice the poor dear back into Bagus with the promise that I'd protect her from those nasty stalkers.
We didn't do a whole lot more that week. A friend came to visit us at the villa one day - great to catch up with her again - but by the end of the week, both The Princess and I were restless, eager to head over to the bright lights of Seminyak and its endless choice of eateries. Not to mention mojitos and other exotic potions for Mother.
We were very glad when it was time to move on.