JHR5 - WHARFIE CHRONICLES - Star Trek... Tuesday 10th August
I've woken up a bit worse for wear this morning, my tummy is really sore, I don't really want breakfast. As Greta Garbo once said...I want to be alone. Mrs W is less than sympathetic and smacks me around the head with a rolled up OK magazine and tells me to stop felling sorry for myself and go eat something. Great... soggy eggs... no chicken sausage.. no HP... garlicky tomatoes...dear me... I really feel like that. Solemnly, I climb the stairs to the restuarant and I completely ignore the egg man, he's done his dash with me, I would rather eat a rubber insole layered with Marmite. Reluctantly, I go get a bit if fruit which I just , attention seekingly, push around the plate. and I'm hoping the probioticesque yoghurt may settle my stomach. This morning seems very quiet on the brekky deck, and I manage to toast two pieces of sourdough in record time. I spread this perfectly with some butter and vegemite, and try and eat some greasy bacon and baked beans. I stumble through a coffee, and can't even face a refill, and I'm so glad to get back into the aircon in our room. Here I lie down on one of the nice cool welcoming sofas, why do I feel so yuk? It's really annoying, but I'm sure people will ne nodding ..been there..done that...
So as I am checking out of the Outrigger tomorrow morning, what's my thoughts on the place ? Well, it's uber chic, bogan free, very trendy, offers good service, white, has lots of polished tiles, well equipped, in a great spot and close to a lot of good eats. Downside? Yeah..bit sterile, bit too non Balinese, and I though breakfast was lacking that spark. These are my opinions only, Mrs W will tell you she loved the place and will go back there at some stage...ho hum... even more worrying is that she is interested in buying one of the apartments...eek!!
So, there's me half dead, lying on the sofa , trying to keep cool, and I get the dreaded comment...'Let's go down to Nusa Dua'... I can't believe it, I want to die, and she wants to go bloody SOGO again..wah!! I have learned over time, that I am always wrong, I'm not ill, I haven't got a sore tummy, I don't need the loo every 10 minutes.... why..because she told me!! Out we go into the horrible heat and humidity and flag down the first Bluebird I see. Off we go, joy of joys. I try and sleep in the cab which is basically impossible in Bali, because we all know we could actually wake up dead..not as this would bother me today. It took ages to get there, and I reckon it's a conspiracy to really make me feel worse. We go to the same old shops we always go to, and just to pacify Mrs W and make it look as though I'm enjoying this, I panic buy a few things... only when I get back to the Outrigger do I realise that I have no need for, or will never wear, some size 8 panties, a pair of stilettos and an halter neck top... ok... that's a bit of a porky... ( the panties were size 16)
I then make the real stupid decision to go Starbucks whilst Mrs W goes and buys SOGO outright to save me any future visits. Why stupid? Well I reckon Starbucks make some of the worst coffee, and whatever I have is going to send me straight to the little boys room...or big boys in my case ( catch my drift there girls?)... sure enough, I hadn't even had a quarter of my soy caramel macchiato and boy, was I off and running... fortunately there was toilet paper available today and I averted the possibility of fatal colonic irrigation.Jeeze do I feel bad, and I can't wait to go back to the Outrigger, have some sleep in the aircon and say hello to Mr Immodium.
However, we are not done yet, there is more torture to come, I mean.. I'm nearly dead now, so what does it matter? yes..you got it..she wants a bloody massage...well blow me down... I should have asked shouldn't I? There was me thinking I could get back to base, but instead, we hail a Bluebird, and ask to go to Laguna Spa in Tanjung Benoa... she tells me , (thanks for this Mrs W), that I can sit in the adjoining restaurant and have a 'couple of drinks' while I am waiting.Thank you so much for this my love, but do you reliase that I have now worked out the Bali Belly equation? One drink = 4 visits... one excrutiating, three painful. She is now a bit sympathetic to my plight, I think when I suggested I was going to hang my bum out of the cab window convinced her that there was something wrong.We are dropped off outside The Tree, a scene of many comments on this forum, but the last thing I feel like is a cold Bintang!
I insist , and forever being the chivalrous type, even pay for her to go into the Spa whilst I trudge off to die in the restaurant. The waitress recognises me from my visit in March and asks what I would like.... I didn't know the Balinese for 'can I have a very quick and painless death because no-one cares about me' so, stupidly again, I order a Sprite with ice ...equating to four more visits to look forward to. I order some fries thinking that I really need to eat something to keep my strength up as the Germans just may be plotting something in JL Pratama. One by one , the fries, dunked in tommy sauce, slowly disappear, I'm not enjoying them at all! The hour passes, Mrs W appears refreshed and looking at least one hundred times better than I do.Yay! We can go, and I can get back for some rest. A-ha..not so quick because now she's hungry ! She asks if its OK if she has something to eat, and then through gritted teeth, I tell her she can have anything she wants, so, forever the accomodating type, I grin and bear it whilst a Nasi Goreng is cooked, sevred and devoured
I'm now feeling really , really crap, please Captain Kirk, could you beam me straight back to JL 66 so I can escape the taxi ride back? So having left the Laguna, we soon find a willing Bluebird to take us back to the Outrigger, I hope it's a quick journey as I'm not real sure as to what my margin of error is! Of course, and totally predictable, it was the journey from hell, and took best part of an hour to get back to base.Roadworls galore, traffic jams, rush hour, cattle on road, ....it all happened. Eventually we are dropped off, and I can't begin to decribe the relief as I opened the doors to our suite, the aircon was welcoming, as was the little boys room... and as we both had no appetite , decided to watch some movies on 'terrestrial TV'. I flick through the fifty off channels that I can't understand and find HBO, there is some film about a ditsy blonde accused of murdering her Casino running hubby... pretty ordinary... just about better than nothing
I lay along a sofa, move in and out of sleep, and decide that a shower, two Immodium and a good night's sleep are in order. I craftily hide that OK magazine under my pillow in case she tries to wake me up......
More tomorrow... thanks for reading...Love Wharfie...xxxx