Love from Bali

We bought a coupla drinks from this waiter; my friend requested What’s Going On from the live band; we sang and clapped along; when the band retires for the night we followed the waiter through the back to this reggae club with another live band and a dancefloor full of barefeet, dreadlocks, oversized hemp shirts and flinging arms; where we sat, drank and stared; then we left to go back to the hotel on a motorcycle; and promptly got ripped off.

This is what I got from that night in my email inbox:

Hi.girl i’m very well,how about you?i hope you are feel good………..by the way,when you came back again here?.may i say what inside my heart to you,i couldt’n forgot about you, when we can spend more time together…………..i really miss you!take care urself………….love…….z[xxxx]

Hmmm….interesting, since he spent the entire time hitting on my friend.

What on earth brings dudes to write things like that to strangers? What do they expect? I declare my undying love for him too? Because he sold me a gin tonic and a few Bintangs?

Thinking about it, why did we not get free drinks?

Probably because I couldn’t be bothered to listen to his explanation that bintang means stars in the sky. Or something like that.

I wonder what he wrote her.

And why wouldn’t I be surprised if she actually wrote him back?

Oh, and I DO feel good. Thank you very much.

Love,

girl

Wanna piss me off? Rip me off.

WTF?

First, The Great Kingdom charges HK$1905 for a useless British National (Overseas) passport that gives you shit rights to anything Kingdom-related.

Then, they charge you HK$3280 for a Working Holidaymaker visa.

How am I supposed to go on “holiday” when I’ve spent half of my funds before I even set foot in The Kingdom? Actually, before I even know if they’ll let me do so in the first place.

Fucking EXTORTION, I tell ya.

This is one of those blue moons when I’ll go YEAH CHINA! and wave the chinky red and yellow flag.

Go ahead and continue creating Visa Hell for Americans and the English. While you’re at it, please increase whatever it is you charge them too. Don’t forget to interrogate them. Finger-print them. (Ten digits please. If they do not have the complete set, do the toes.) Get their biometric iris-data shit. Oh, and just for the hell of it, why not test if they’re obese too. With purported food shortages in certain areas, you wouldn’t want them eating most of your food now, would you?

This is what my mother and brother would say: Do Unto Others As They Do Unto You.

Go to hell.

I think I am having PMS.

Handle with care

or you may be spat on.

Uncertainties and desperation is a bitch.

Tread gently.

I can use a bit of cheer-upping right now.

when Dora Explores: manicures

After work in Kuta, Bali, there really isn’t much to do except to….spend money.

And so, at 27 years of age, this girl’s just had the first manicure of her life.

And, shall I say, it will also be her last.

It must’ve been one of the most unpleasant things I’ve had to go through. I would much rather endure the London Dungeons again than have another manicure. Probably.

Before that, I’ve always imagined having a manicure to be some sort of a luxury. You know, you lie back on a big comfy chair, have your little fingers washed, cleansed, mosturized, polished and all that while you drift in and out of a deep dream-like state of chowing down grilled prawns and chilli crabs.

Instead, I felt like I was being poked and jabbed at, and thought the lady was going to file the tips of my fingers off. Not the mention the creepy feeling of having a stranger touch, tug at, and hold your hands. *shudder*

I thought I would leave my session all relaxed and refreshed. But no, I felt nothing but relief.

After the lady went away (but not without first pestering me with “You want polish?! Polish look good on you!” “You want massage?” “You want cream bath?” Cream bath?!), I stared at my nails…they look no different from before I sat down, they feel no better than me clipping my own nails, and I feel like I just got cheated.

For the same amount of money, I could’ve gotten myself a plate of chicken satay and a bottle of Bintang. Mmmmm….now THAT’s more like it.

days when having candles on your cake is all that matters

I am suddenly feeling very nostalgic.

My third birthday. :)