It has been 20 odd years since I stayed in Sanur, so I will be out of my comfort zone for a change. I'm after a slothful relax this trip. I'm looking forward to eating my way through the list I have of restaurants in the area, as recommended on BTF. I have a quest to find the best Nasi Goreng, my fav, followed closely by a good spicy chicken satay. I'm also a sucker for an ice cold pineapple juice too. Excuse me while I mop up my drool from my laptop. I'm salivating.
Now to my preparations. First on the agenda - create a list. I am a great believer in lists - they are invaluable to the middle-aged and beyond with short term memory loss such as myself.
First on my list is my hairdryer - foolishly left at home on my trip in June last year. Yes you may scoff, but to the hair-proud this was a crucial mistake on my part. Ladies - do not rely on hotel hairdryers unless you wish to miss both breakfast AND lunch! So little power or hot air. My hairdryer can short a small city when plugged in (which I did to Ubud in 1986 - oops) so if any fellow travellers in Sanur lose power in early October, you will know I have arrived! My plan to tame my normally well behaved hair which is apt to go wavy and feral in humidity is Schwarzkopf Bonawell conditioner. My hairdresser says that African American ladies use it to help tame their Afros, so I am quietly optimistic for this trip.
Second on my list is a fake tan. The world is not ready for the truly dazzling albino-ism of my legs, so I must obtain a tan for the sake of others venturing outside without sunnies. Starting to sandpaper my epidermis to prepare for my spray tan next Monday. Don't want any freshly tanned skin cells floating off after the deed - I want this baby to stick fast. Hoping, praying and willing to make a small sacrifice under the next full moon to the goddess of suntans that I don't go orange or patchy.
I had been putting this off, as you may relate. Tried on my swimsuit this morning, which hasn't had an airing for nearly 12 months. Hmm, enough said. I suppose losing 20kgs in the next 10 days is a tad ambitious? Oh well, I don't have to see the back view, now do I and if I remember not to do any duck dives, I shouldn't offend anyone with my built-in floaties. So no throwing coins in the pool, people! Does Hardy's sell pool noodles? I can sink up to my neck sitting on one of those - problem solved. What time does it get dark now? I can swim then. I like to have a plan.
Getting all my toiletries together on the dining room table. Only the essentials will be packed - those items that are absolutely vital in keeping me in tippy-top goddess condition. Luckily my dining setting seats 6. Remember, ladies that tweezers, nail clippers and scissors go in your suitcase, not your hand luggage. Imagine the turmoil if they get confiscated!
Every year I forget something. Usually something fairly important and thus inconvenient, despite my penchant for lists. Last year I forgot to pack my round brush. Eek, you may justifiably exclaim. Absolutely vital to maintaining a straight bob when one's hair is not straight, as is a decent hairdryer which I stupidly chose to leave at home. Thus my eek was quite long and peppered with expletives! I could not buy a round brush in Ubud so endured feral hair for DAYS.....!!!!! The shame!
Picked up my foreign currency from Travelex. Somewhat peeved that I am forced to buy $250 worth of foreign currency when $50 would have sufficed. I'm sure I didn't buy that much last year? Theres not a chance I can close my purse with that lot in it. That great wad of cash now resides in to my now stretched-like-a-piano-accordian handbag. How uncomfortable it must be for a bloke to carry $250 in rupiah in his wallet! Can he even fold his wallet in half? Can he sit down with it in his back pocket without anatomical injury? Does he look like he has a tumorous growth on his buttock when he walks? Just wondered...
I always like to have my visa in USD and some rupiah handy as my flight over is a pink-eye flight, arriving at nearly 10pm - Damn you Jetstar for your lousy flight times - my first day in Bali is a night! This is opposed to the red-eye/tan-fading overnight flight on my return, again a little winner!
You can always tell when a Bali plane arrives at Melbourne airport. Aside from the sight of beaded braids (why, girls, why? Bo Derek is in a nursing home now, isn't she? and poor Dudley 6ft under?) and daisies on their nails. The observant who are up at the crack of dawn and hanging around airports will notice hordes of young tweenies shivering in their shorts and singlet tops, desperate to show off their tanned goosebumps to their designated driver collectors at 8 in the morning. I, of course have no need for this blatant display for attention. My tan rarely makes it onto the plane! Those who know me scoff when I return to Melbourne as pale as I left it, unconvinced that I went to Bali and not Tasmania. Nor are they convinced by the accumulation of an additional million freckles, which incidentally an unkind God has deemed that though they should go forth and multiply in the sun, they are NOT to join together to form a tan under any circumstances! *sigh*
I am also on the hunt for some new clothes for my trip. I know Bali has a very relaxed dress code but I'm not at all keen for my built in floaties being displayed in sleeveless garments. You may be more familiar with the term tuckshop arms. Unfortunately the workout I get lifting my hand luggage into the overhead locker is only sufficient to make me sore, not build muscles. Maybe if I did it 100 times on the flight over - I could start Jetstar aerobics! No longer be bored onboard! Get fit and fly packages! Maybe not - I doubt I could get up from my first squat with any dignity!
Alas Bali is in sync with the rest of the world in under-catering for the 14+ woman. We are a huge market (no pun intended) essentially untapped and would love nothing better than to come home with a suitcase full of new clothes that do not resemble a a colour-blind Hawaiian ukelele player's Sunday best muumuu or a camp tent. I should clarify - I want clothes that I would be happy to be seen in when I get home. I do have a few past purchases in the back of my wardrobe labelled 'what where you thinking!', not donated to charity for the protection of the poor. Thus I must buy my summer wardrobe here before I leave. Even then, I don't wear half of what I take but I like to have a bit of choice, and it is a woman's lot to change three times a day when in Bali, isn't it girls?
I have also had my new sunglasses changed to polarized bifocals so I no longer need to chop and change glasses in shops to read the fine print (aka price tags). Yes I could have had the work done cheaper @ Optik Wherever, but I believe they send bifocals offshore and didn't want to have to wait to lounge by the pool with a good book. Relax and sloth, remember.
I left my packing until the last minute, mainly because what I take I need to use, so I had to wait until I stopped using them. I bought one of those dial luggage weighers with a hook. OMG! 35kg! Oh no! I can't possibly cull anything - it is packed with essentials only. I unpacked everything, plucked out my sunscreen/mosquito lotion because I had a spray form. That could stay. A couple of my tops feel a little heavy - I'll leave those. Pack my flat shoes and wear my runners (not a good look with my outfit!) instead. Next weight 32kg. OMG Noooooo! I can't leave anything else. I have a duffle-bag which weighs less than my suitcase so I transfer everything into that. Oh FFS (scuse French, but) 31kg. Not worth taking the duffle bag, though it's on wheels at one end, they were from a Safeway shopping trolley in a previous life. Can't steer the damn thing even if dragging it and it won't stand up on it's own. If I have to pay excess I'd rather take my suitcase. So repack the suitcase, cull another outfit in the process. Lightbulb moment. I bought the weigher on eBay - maybe it's dodgy? So I weigh myself and then again holding the suitcase. The difference? 15kgs. What the?? I went back to the weigher and checked the dial again. OMG I'd been reading it in frickin' lbs not kgs!! Well, there was a blonde moment that lasted a bloody hour! So repacked most of the discarded items, swapped the runners for my flats (the fashion police will be pleased) and zip her up.
Wait a minute - aren't the circle loops on either end of the zipper supposed to slot in together? They won't join up and I can't thread my padlock through it. Noooooooooo! (insert hussy fit and stamping of feet here). Obviously I had seriously displeased the Goddess of travel somehow. So I unpack the suitcase, get 'ye olde faithful' semi-retired suitcase from the top cupboard, wipe off the significant layer of dust and empty the crap hidden in it, ready for use. Now who says I can't learn from my mistakes? I'm checking the zipper first before I unpack and repack. It works! Except this suitcase is not quite big enough. I can just fit everything in but unless I'm only buying a pair of earrings this trip I'm not going to be able to shop. Not an option. Unpack and repack into the original suitcase. Able to thread two locks on either zipper end and into each other. Phew! At last, I'm only 20 mins behind schedule and quite hot and bothered by this stage.
Checked into Jetstar star class - only flown economy with them in the past. Lovely lady there gave me a priority customs pass. Go through the X-ray machine after waiting for an elderly man's artificial hip or pacemaker to stop setting off the metal detector. Got called over for a random bomb residue test. Yes folks, I look just like the stereotypical suicide bomber. So had a wand thingy run over me and the first frisk of my life. Did wonder what sort of idiot makes a bomb without gloves or changing clothes. Anyhow, I suppose my tunic top could hide sticks of dynamite or C4 strapped to my body - she wasn't to know that it's unfortunately all me under there!
Into customs - can't see a priority queue. Only 2 customs officers on duty it seems - maybe the others were doing cavity searches for reality TV? I joined the cattle pen with the rest of the flock and only spied the priority queue after I was 3/4 of the way through. Doh! Didn't want to look like a total twit double backing, so stayed there for another 10 minutes until my turn. As I handed my passport with a photo only a mother with macular degeneration could be proud, another officer arrived to serve. I'm guessing her name was Murphy.
Found Qantas business lounge and headed straight for the alcohol. Glass of Chandon thank you very much, with some brie and crackers. Ahhhhh! 3/4 through the first glass I finally felt relaxed and on holiday. I was a little premature in my celebrations. Rocked up to the departure lounge and waited and waited a bit more. I was ever so slightly pickled at this stage so not at all annoyed by the delay. In fact, once on board my patience and good cheer was rewarded with an offer of champagne. OK. Twist my arm. Hehe. With a glass of sav blanc with dinner a short time after take off, I had to have a wee nap for an hour or so. I was pleased with the attentive service of the air crew and enjoyed most of the flight on the side of Team Edward watching Eclipse (again) and wishing I was Kristen Stewart for a couple of hours.
Arrived in Bali 1/2 hr late. I was first through customs - a first for me, but suitcase, so lovingly packed as you may recall, decided to be shy for quite some time. After finally retrieving it from the carousel I managed to heft it onto the X-ray machine (1st time ever been manned) without slipping a disc. Driver to meet me - lovely. Arrive at my hotel, unpack and hit the minibar - empty, it's just a bar fridge without the bar. Oh drat. By this time it's 3am my time, so a swig of fresh warm bottled water and I'm in bed, totally stuffed but very pleased to be in Bali again.
One of my favorite things about Bali apart from the smell of frangipani and clove ciggies is the wondrous food to be had. I can't wait to get out there sampling! I am also looking forward to meeting some new people, so if you see a shortish cuddly-sized lady with a beautifully coiffed sleek bob (if all goes to plan) please do stop me to admire my hair and say howdy or should it all go to hell in a hen basket, point me in the direction of the market so I can buy myself a large hat!
Cheers.