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The famed Island of the Gods! It was my first visit to this mystical isle and little did I know that it would become an enduring love affair that would last for many years to come. Being a newbie, and not quite ready to venture off the beaten path, I opted for the safe and unadventurous choice of checking into the well-reputed and reliable Bali Hilton located at Nusa Dua. Within its sprawling acreages, Nusa Dua houses most of the major 5 star international resorts. The immensity of the grounds was staggering; the combined presence of each massive resort practically constituted a mini-conurbation! The size of each resort was of such ridiculously mammoth proportions, that they were in fact singular destinations in themselves! The free bus shuttle services encouraged guests of each separate resort to visit the other either to dine, shop or just to investigate the neighbouring resorts’ amenities and settings. There is also a massive lake within the complex that actually supports intra-resort transportation via the free and very leisurely ferry shuttle service that plies the beautifully landscaped route! However, staying in Nusa Dua limits one to experiencing the real Bali. Service naturally is impeccable and surroundings are lush and opulent. Nusa Dua is better suited for those with a proclivity for luxury, exclusivity and privacy. The guest demographic is made up mostly of young honeymooners, families with children, couples in their twilight years as well as young couples in love. Nusa Dua is definitely not the place to be if you are a young and single party animal!

The Hilton is fronted by an imposing statue of an ornately carved mythical winged creature called a Garuda. Behind this behemoth was a three tiered rectangular Olympic sized ornamental pool with undulating statues of magnificent Nagas circumventing the entire perimeter. Other assorted statues and figures spouted forth arcs of water into the bottle green waters. Entering the lobby, the wood panelled walls were adorned with exquisite paintings of traditional Balinese dancing females in their full regalia. The front of the reception counter was decorated with intricately carved floral motifs with what I presumed to be teak. After an invigoratingly cold floral scented towel and refreshing welcome drink with a delicate hint of lemongrass was served , I was led to my room. The hardwood floor was laid with a rattan mat, imparting a very organic feel. Above the King-sized teak bed, the headboard was upholstered with heavy Balinese batik inspired fabric in shades of rich browns, reds and gold. On the wall, gold-framed scenes of Balinese days of old were hung. The rich mahogany tones of the teak study and coffee tables were complimented brilliantly by the plush cream chaise longue and heavy cream drapes. Through the wood framed glass doors, the balcony revealed its view of swaying palms, flowering frangipanis and lush shrubs. Crickets stridulated, cicadas chirped and mosquitoes buzzed in nature’s very own concerto!

In the morning, the true vastness of the Hilton unfolded before me. There were blocks after blocks of guest rooms which flanked an immense pond fringed by reeds, bougainvillea, coconut palms, weeping willows et al. The moss green pond attracted wild herons, ibises and monitor lizards that stalked the thousands of tilapias that thrived in the waters. Breakfast was had on a terrace by the pond where I watched fascinated as the predating waterfowl stood stock-still and at the most opportune moment, struck with lighting speed to emerge triumphantly with a thrashing fish between its bill and in one swift motion the still live fish was sent slithering down the long gullet of these elegant birds. Meanwhile, a monitor lizard lounged lazily on a rock and sunned its cold-blooded body whilst another sufficiently warmed reptile, propelled itself effortlessly through the water with long languid sweeps of its powerful tail in search of an easy meal. I noticed that the Koi were largely left unmolested and went about their business unbothered by these predators, presumably because of their substantial girth or maybe they were plainly unpalatable? This was truly Animal Planet live at its best!


Curiously, the Bali Hilton does not have a swimming pool, but for very good reason. The Hilton along with the other illustrious resorts in Nusa Dua, have their very own stretch of well maintained and pristine private beaches! As I edged closer to the shoreline, the soft prickly carpet grass abruptly gave way to fine powdered sand clearly demarcating the two territories. The seaside venue beckoned me invitingly. Comfortable deckchairs were thoughtfully fanned out on the grassy verge, in order to save bare feet from blistering sand. Afflicted with mild heliophobia which originates purely from vanity rather than any serious underlying medical condition, I sought refuge under a large shady umbrella structure with the typical Balinese thatched roofing. Slathered from head to toe in SPF 50 sun block, I ordered a tall glass of ice cold Coca-cola and laid back to enjoy the sound of the crashing waves and watch their foamy white crests breach the shore only to dissipate quickly. I tried settling into a trashy chick-lit, but the book could not hold my attention, the call of the sea was simply too irresistible! I was soon scuttling across the burning sand and plunged headlong into the warm sea green tropical waters! The waves were at least a metre high and packed quite a punch. When I lost my footing, I was tossed like a ragdoll back to shore and continued to be pounded by the unrelenting waves until I regained my footing. I could not help but be mindful and most importantly, respectful of Mother Nature’s immense power, for once unleashed, like the tsunami of Dec 2004, it would cause incalculable devastation.

Next on the agenda, was the obligatory spa visit. Having previously worked in a pioneering day spa in Singapore, my expectations were unapologetically high. I was ushered into a private spa pavilion set with its requisite Balinese furnishings and accoutrements. The treatment began with a warm foot soak in a wooden bowl sprinkled with an array of flowers; a less than thorough foot scrub ensued. Next, I proceeded to lie on the batik covered treatment table for my body scrub followed by a Balinese body massage. The scrub was made of all natural ingredients with no preservatives, explained the therapist, one glance and I knew that I was looking at a home-made sweet almond oil and sugar gommage. The body scrub administered was less than satisfactory, maybe the therapist was specifically instructed by an overly cautious trainer to not apply too much pressure to avoid any incidences of scratched or abraded skin. Personally, I find that notion to be ludicrous. Our skin is a remarkably resilient organ! It would take more than sugar crystals or crushed apricot pips to slough off enough epidermal layers to cause any major damage. I found the Balinese style of massage to be not quite to my liking, it was neither firm nor deep enough for me. The massage was followed by a poor excuse of a body wrap. A supposedly detoxifying goop was spread over my body and I was wrapped with a flimsy piece of batik. There was no electric blanket to provide the heat that is required to act as the catalyst to the detoxification process! While still cocooned in the thin wisp of fabric, the therapist performed a sub-standard facial. It felt like the facial was thrown in as an afterthought. The rudimentary steps involved cleansing, toning, a scrub, a lackadaisical facial massage and the application of a less than luxuriant mask. After the facial and body mask was rinsed off, I was treated to a yogurt splash. As the name implied, cold fresh plain yogurt was slapped onto my body and hastily rinsed off. What purpose that served escaped me completely! And finally, I was eased into a sunken bath filled with tepid water but brimming with rose petals. A hydrotherapy bath with massaging jets it was not! For the amount forked over, in US dollars no less, where were the Clarins, Babor or Lancôme products? In their stead were unsophisticated home-made pastes and potions! Needlessly to say I left the pavilion deeply disappointed and not the least renewed.

TANAH LOT

The next day, I took a 90 minute taxi ride to one of Bali’s most popular tourist sites, the iconic Tanah Lot temple, one of Bali’s holiest places of worship. To reach the temple, a reconnaissance through a long narrow street besieged by legions of tourists and camps of shops selling tacky souvenirs was necessary. Once through, I arrived at a pair of perfectly symmetrical and ornately carved gates hewn from what looked like volcanic rock. The Balinese people are blessed with an artistic and creative gene, and it is evident in the intricate carvings, handicrafts and stunning architecture everywhere. Walking through the gates, Tanah Lot temple came into view. Tanah Lot is a temple dedicated to the sea gods and was built on an offshore rock that has been shaped continuously over the years by the ocean tide. Atop the rock, I spied several black thatched roof structures, which I presume to be the spirit houses, and the most prominent and eye-catching was the multi-tiered pagoda like structure. Tanah Lot Temple is accessible only during low tide, and rather fortuitously, it was low tide when I visited. The exposed black volcanic rock that surrounded the base of the temple was teeming with people jostling for the perfect angle to snap a photograph of what is arguably the undisputed symbol of Bali. The enthusiastic subjects of shutterbugs were clambering onto rocky outcrops or venturing perilously further outward towards more slippery terrain in the race to snap a prized picture! A snaking queue formed at the mouth of a cave at the foot of Tanah Lot where a natural spring was bubbling forth what the locals believe to be holy water. Tourists and locals alike, waited patiently to drink from this sacred spring and to be ritually blessed by the attending priests. The temple proper is open only to practising Hindus, and one cannot become a Hindu, you are born one! Tourists curious for a peek into this sacrosanct shrine will be firmly turned away, further heightening the Temple’s already mystical and enigmatic allure! Therefore, the hallowed grounds of Tanah Lot will remain exclusively treaded by the gentle footsteps of the local devotees! To attain a panoramic view of the temple, I wound my way up to higher ground. From that vantage point more details of the beautiful temple were unveiled. Crafted purely from stone, there were winding stairways, spiralling pillars, balustrades and ornate lanterns. And across the other side from my viewing point, was a smaller temple called the Batu Bolong Temple. This temple is perched on the very edge of a narrow sliver of rock. Over the millennia, oceanic forces have eroded a large gaping hole through the rock, thereby creating what looks like a bridge to the temple. Even though Batu Bolong Temple is considerably smaller than its famous neighbour Tanah Lot, it is this natural rock formation that attracts its fare share of attention. Roaming around the lovely manicured grounds with the sound of the waves crashing thunderously in the background, I noticed an 8 metre long python languishing on the grass! I am not a big fan of snakes and was admittedly a little fearful at seeing such a leviathan serpent on the loose! As it turned out, it was owned by a Balinese family who unfortunately were exploiting the poor creature by charging a fee to any tourist bold or eager enough to want a giant constrictor wrapped and draped around their necks and torso for the sole purpose of a photo opportunity!

BEDUGUL

Early the next morning, I set off for the mountain- lake resort of Bedugul. I was informed that Bedugul has long been a favourite weekend retreat for the Balinese. To escape the heat and humidity, locals and tourists flee to this highland hideaway that is nestled in the crater of an extinct volcano. Located 1400 metres above sea level, temperatures here drop drastically to hover at a very comfortable 22 degrees Celsius or even less under the shade. The three lakes found in this area provide life giving waters to the springs, rivers and most importantly to the ubiquitous rice terrace fields found below. They also are the perfect venue for water sports such as water-skiing and parasailing! Rolling forested hills abound, and in the mornings, the air is exceptionally fresh and mist cloaks the vicinity, producing an utterly ethereal visage! Vegetation is an incongruous mix of temperate and rainforest species. Towering pines and chalets built on the slopes of these gentle hills bizarrely add a very Swiss flavour to the atmosphere. Bedugul is also renowned for its excellent golf courses. Perhaps, it is the synergistic combination of uncontaminated waters, cool temperatures and unpolluted air which explains why this region produces some of the finest fruits, vegetables and flowers in Bali. While strolling along Lake Bratan, a young lady selling packets of fresh strawberries approached me and I could not resist buying a packet. The strawberries were juicy, sweet and aromatic! It was a definite testament to that claim! Soon the day trip drew to its close, and I was driven slowly down the meandering mountainous roads with several stops made to admire the famed verdant terrace rice fields that are also synonymous with the Bali!

KECAK DANCE


When I returned to the Hilton, it was close to dinner time. I had made reservations at the Balinese dinner theatre found within the resort to indulge in a night of Balinese cuisine and culture. Dining tables and chairs were cleverly arranged around a cosy amphitheatre to ensure that nobody’s view was obstructed from the spectacle that was about to unfold. The stage was set with 3 towering and exquisitely decorated gateways, stone carvings of mythical barongs and other fabled beings adorned the heavily embellished backdrop. One would think that the combination of all these overly-elaborate details would result in a garish mess, but on the contrary, it was breath-taking and unmistakably Balinese! I love the concept of dinner theatre! To be simultaneously wined, dined and entertained is a joy! My anticipation was gaining momentum as my impending experience with the legendary Kecak Dance approached! The kecak dance is a carefully choreographed performance depicting the Hindu Ramayana epic. In the 1930s, through the collaboration between Balinese artists and the painter Walter Spies, the kecak dance was refined and transformed into something more stylised that almost immediately garnered international attention. The choreography remains unchanged till this day. The Ramayana is a classic tale of the battle between good and evil and how good always triumphs in the end. In brief, the story relates how the hero Prince Rama’s wife, the virtuous Sita, was abducted by the demon King Ravana. With the help of the money deity Hanuman and his comrades, Prince Rama eventually vanquishes the evil King Ravana and the lovely Sita is rescued.

The centre piece of the stage was a huge candelabra laden with numerous twinkling oil lamps to signify the holy fire. Soon the distinctive chant of “kecak kecak kecak” rumbled from backstage to indicate the start of the show. 50 bare-chested and sinewy men spilled out from the 2 side gates. They were clad only in black and white chequered sarongs and a frangipani blossom tucked behind their ear. They quickly encircled the holy fire and sat in neat concentric circles. Essentially, they formed the choir that would modulate the cadence of the “kecak kecak” sound to accompany the different scenes that would play out. And when the scene or situation called for it, the men would throw their arms high into the air and wave their hands vigorously as if caught in a trance and the “kecak” sound would reach a tremulous crescendo! And once spent, the men would dramatically fall back onto each other. The main characters of the play would emerge from the central gateway and they were dressed in rich, colourful and heavily embroidered costumes replete with elaborate gold headdresses or masks depending on the character they were portraying. Hand gestures were contorted into impossible inflections, wide open expressive eyes would shift theatrically from one corner to the other, each measured step was carefully executed, every minute movement was pregnant with symbolism, but alas, I did not fully grasp the varied nuances! Even though I did not understand what the characters were saying, as the performance was presented in Bahasa, I still managed to glean the premise of the plot as it progressed! I enjoyed myself thoroughly as I found it to be a magnificent orgy of sight, sound and colours!

KUTA


I finally decided to head to the infamous Kuta area of Bali. And it was heaving! The traffic was crawling through the narrow streets of Legian and Kuta at a snail’s pace! It was faster to just walk! Horns blared; exhaust belched and boisterous bare-bodied Aussie surfer-dude types hollered at one and another across the streets, vendors touted their wares and services generating a cacophonous racket! I was instantly gratified that I chose not to stay in this car-choked and tourist infested location. The dust, noise and crowd would have made my stay unbearable and totally unpleasant! I made my way to, what people keep telling me is, the world famous Kuta Beach. It was high tide and the thronging sun worshippers and beach goers had to share a narrow strip of exposed beach with the army of hawkers peddling their merchandise, the myriad masseuses, the manicurists, the hair braiders and the surf and boogie board stalls! I could barely find a spot to sit at! It was overcrowded and chaotic. Tired of dodging the manic masses, I decided to try my hand at boogie boarding. It looked much simpler than surfing, because you were not required to stand on the board you just lay on top of it! So I rented a boogie board, which is about half the length of a surf board but broader. The surface of the board is coated with a rough grainy layer for better grip. With no instructions given, I paddled feebly out to sea. It was difficult battling the incoming waves that sometimes reached 2 metres! My arms were screaming in agony as my legs kicked uselessly as I fought the powerful waves! A pair of fins or webbed gloves would have been advantageous in propelling me forward! Also, I was inappropriately and foolishly clad in only my hot pink swimming trunks! And soon I paid the price, my upper torso was suffering abrasions from the coarse texture of the board, what I wouldn’t have given for a wet suit! Only later did I spy other experienced boogie boarders who were more in the know sporting said equipment! DAMN! Finally, I was adequately far out at sea. And I waited and bobbed alongside the other boogie boarders and surfers, waiting for the right wave. And when the perfect wave came along, all thoughts of the strenuous effort of swimming out were forgotten! The wave picked me up and soon I was riding the crest and rushing at break-neck speed all the way to the shore! It was an adrenaline inducing and entirely exciting ride! I had to do it again! It was so much fun! The down side was the arduous paddle back out to sea! An hour later, I was completely exhausted, my elbows and torso were sore and my nipples were very tender! But it was worth it! I would definitely give boogie boarding another try, but next time, I will be better prepared!


Hot, thirsty and hungry, I headed to one of the many cafes and restaurants that can be found in abundance in Legian Street. I slaked my thirst with my usual Coke and ice and had a bite to eat. Sufficiently rested, I explored the retail heart of Bali. Most of the shops were understandably selling beach wear to cater to the rampant and profitable sun, sea and sand culture of Kuta. Well established names such as Billabong, Rip Curl, Quicksilver and Roxy dominated the retail landscape. Naturally, there were smaller shops flogging the ubiquitous souvenirs and handicrafts. There were shops dealing in decorative home accessories as well as shops selling exquisite and pricey Balinese lace. Interspersed with the shops and cafes, were the rather enterprising foot and body massage businesses. They provided foot reflexology and body massages to weary shoppers in a clean and simple set up. After a while, I came to realise that the shops along the busy streets were becoming repetitious and a lot of them were selling the same things! Tired and a little bored of pounding the pavement and trying my best, sometimes failing, to avoid stepping on the beautifully woven palm leaf baskets that held tiny offerings of rice, flowers, candy and incense that were found everywhere, I headed into a foot massage place and indulged in some much needed reflexology to soothe my aching feet! After my relaxing reprieve, I gratefully made my way back to the sane and tranquil refuge of the Hilton far from the maddening noise and swarms of loud mouthed Aussie youths!

It was an eagerly anticipated trip for two principal reasons. Firstly, I was going to visit my ex-colleague and dear lesbian friend Cathy Aeria who had immigrated to Australia. Secondly, I was bringing my darling beta, Gurbir, along. It was to be his first overseas trip to a country with a Western culture – read Land of the White Man! To date, he had ventured only as far as Malaysia and India. So he was understandably exhilarated at the prospect of holidaying with me at an exciting new destination!

I redeemed 2 free World Traveller tickets (read – cattle class) on British Airways. In classic Brit perversity, they make it sound über posh to raise your expectations so that they can take maniacal pleasure in demolishing it in one fell swoop! It would not have shocked me in the least if the BA bitches’ standard issued equipment included cattle prods and wheelbarrows to trundled hay down the aisle! Hallelujah if you are successful at procuring water from these sullen trolls! In BA’s economy class, everyone is Oliver! Leg room in World Traveller class is an alien concept, the back of the seat in front of you is grudgingly positioned precisely where your knee caps end! If BA had it their way, you would be securely fastened in strait-jackets, standing up and gagged to completely dispense with the annoying food and drinks services. This way, the crew can invest all their effort on vital matters like moaning and whinging about their miserable lives. As for sanitation, you get down on your knees and pray to sweet Mother Mary that fellow passengers are decent civilised human beings who are well schooled in the use of a toilet. If not, the ill-fated will be gingerly dodging yellow puddles or God forbid brown splodges in a tiny capsule they call the lavatory! BA bitches smugly declare that they DON’T DO toilets! Their reasoning, it precludes cross-contamination as they are the cowboys who handle your hay! Evidently, Blighty Air was not on the receiving end of the 1960s memo pertaining to the advent of disposable gloves and liquid soap. Perhaps BA found this new fangled technology to be too intimidating. Besides, they have to factor in the astronomical cost that would be involved if they were to train their entire troupe of trolley dollies to wield such space age technology! It would understandably make more business sense to maintain the status quo and just let the cattle wallow in filth. Needless to say, the food, if you can even call it that, they chuck at you is borderline slop! But beta remained unfazed by the ordeal! He was excited and I was happy that he was coming along! Sigh! The sacrifices I make for my beta! I could have easily travelled in relatively better comfort by selfishly using my miles to redeem a World Traveller Plus ticket solely for myself! World Traveller Plus is a class that is caught in between Business and Economy, seats are slightly wider, fewer daggers are thrown, potency of the venom is diluted and if you’re lucky, a tight forced smile may escape from the lips of the reluctant crew, BA bitches are frosty at best to World Traveller Plus passengers. Business class passengers on the other hand, will admittedly receive better treatment, but scornfully, as the BA bitches regard Business class passengers as people who still have not quite made it yet! They will only bother to fawn over First Class passengers, in the vain hopes that the passenger may be charmed and smitten by their attention and sweep them off their feet and take them far away from their wretched lives. Well, everyone is entitled to dream, no matter how preposterous or absurd!

We arrived in Melbourne in the early morning. The temperature was cool enough to see our own breath, a phenomenon that I never tire of experiencing! Cathy picked us up from the airport, and as it was too early to check into our hotel, we hung out at her lovely home. Located at Tullamarine, just a stone’s throw away from the airport, it was a charming single storey 3 bedroom red brick house. Being out, loud and proud, Cathy had a Rainbow flag hanging in the garden. Beta had absolutely no idea what it signified, and I must admit I was a little taken aback by his naïveté, but we enlightened him and watched his eyes widened in amazement by the fact that such a thing actually existed! Cathy and her girlfriend Lorna made us a hale and hearty breakfast, a marked and welcomed difference to the swill that was served onboard. We had a lovely time catching up and of course getting to know new friends! After breakfast, we adjourned to the garden clutching our mugs of hot tea. It was simple pleasure to sit out and enjoy the cool bracing morning air.

Come early afternoon, Cathy insisted on bringing us to Chapel Street, a quaint stretch of road flanked by Victorian looking shop-houses. It turns out that Chapel Street is a famous shopping, dining and entertainment precinct in Melbourne. We flitted in and out of boutiques and delightful shops selling bric-a-brac, before settling in a street cafe to indulge in hot chocolate, coffee and people watching! All too soon, it was time to check into our hotel. Cathy dropped us off at the entrance of the Le Meridien Rialto right in the city centre. The Le Meridien Rialto consists of two 19th century heritage buildings, one in a brick Romanesque-style and the other a Gothic-style. The buildings are split by a beautifully preserved classic bluestone cobbled lane. The hotel positively oozed history! After settling in, we headed out to explore the city. It was autumn, so the sun had set earlier than usual. Flinders Station, the central railway station of the suburban rail network, with its distinctive dome and clocks was brilliantly lit to accentuate the facade of this historic site. Across from the station, not to be outdone, shone Federation Square, it is a collection of avant-garde buildings designed along a cubist vein and is architecturally quite compelling! The buildings house an assortment of art galleries, a museum, cinemas, exhibition spaces, auditoria, restaurants, bars and shops. Veritably, a culturally exciting venue! It comes as no surprise that it is Victoria’s second most visited attraction!

We woke up to a clear and pleasantly cool morning. After completing our daily beauty rituals, we were ready to face Melbourne! Being the weekend, the city centre was deserted and devoid of its usual throng of humanity. It was a little surreal to be able to walk unobstructed amongst the concrete structures that towered and surrounded us; it positively exuded an eerie post-apocalyptic feel. However, it granted us the freedom and space to take our time to marvel at the diverse architectural styles that abounded. Being such a beautiful day, we partook in a leisurely stroll in the park to admire the beautiful hues of the changing autumnal leaves. Our random amble led us serendipitously to Victoria market! This 19th century market is a historic landmark in Melbourne. It is a tourist attraction as well as a local institution. All manner of fresh produce can be found here. The market was alive with a hive of activity as people migrated from one stall to the other. A melange of aromas emanate from a smoky section of the market dominated by stalls hawking international snacks ranging from Japanese to Chinese to German to Middle Eastern! Shots of freshly extracted sludge-green wheatgrass juice, purporting to be the new elixir of life were sold alongside more delicious sounding power-smoothie concoctions. Elsewhere in the market, you could find handicrafts ranging from vibrantly coloured hand-made soaps that smelt good enough to eat, to amazing varieties of different flavoured home-made fudge that could very easily be confused for soap! Rainbow-hued candles were warped into impossible shapes and sizes, native American-Indian products such as the mysterious dream-catcher, multitudes of crystals that promise to deflect negative energy and aid in balancing your chakras! Intoxicating incense and essential oils wafted through the Bohemian atmosphere. An Australian market would be incomplete without its aboriginal wares such as the boomerangs, didgeridoos, leather goods, pelts of sheep skin rugs and the rather gruesome leather coin pouches made out of the scrotal sack of a kangaroo, which claims to bring the bearer good luck! And of course, there were clothes galore! From edgy high street fashion to souvenir t-shirts to garish tie-dye creations and of course the run of the mill tat! Leaving Victoria Market, we encountered the usual shopping malls that invariably invade every developed city. It was pleasant though to see old-styled trams like the free City Circle service plying the tracks of Melbourne. The impressive facade of the General Post Office immediately drew us in, but it turns out that the interior had been converted into an upscale shopping arcade. Fortunately, most of its stunning details found on the archways, ceiling and pillars have been painstakingly and lovingly restored, thereby retaining the essence of its spectacular Renaissance Revival style.

In the continued pursuit of our lovely unhurried day, we decided to take a train from the iconic Flinders Street Station to enjoy the rest of the beautiful day in Brighton Beach. The train was clean, efficient and modern. In no time, we had reached our destination. Brighton Beach is characterised by the famed sweep of colourful beach huts. You can find candy coloured tones, patriotic flag designs but predominantly, they are painted in bright pastel shades, which is very pleasing to the eye! As it was not summer, the beach was deserted as we anticipated, which was very much to our liking! It was wonderful to have the entire stretch of beach all to ourselves. We sauntered along the beach, stopping every once in a while to skim stones over the placid waters. We sat by the benches and watched the seagulls soaring above us, wading in the shallows and bickering amongst themselves on the shore. It was very idyllic and peaceful. Hungry, we headed to the Brighton Baths restaurant which overlooks Melbourne’s only remaining sea bath, a vestige of the Victorian era. It is basically a large rectangular rock pool filled with sea water, and the ebb and flow of the tides refreshes the pool of sea water daily. During the height of the Victorian age, it was an extremely popular past-time for the Victorians to bathe (i.e. swim, soak, play or wade) in these sea pools. Naturally, we ordered seafood which was de rigueur in such an enchanting seaside setting. As we ate, we observed a few bathers emerging from a steaming room, presumably a sauna, and briskly making their way down the stairs to the sea bath, where they proceeded to swim a few laps in the chilly waters before hurriedly retreating to seek warmth in the sauna. Once suitably reheated, the whole exercise is repeated. This alternating between hot and cold has been proven to be extremely salubrious for the body’s circulatory system.

To end the day, we decided to head to Melbourne’s Luna Park, located in the heart of St. Kilda. Luna Park opened in 1912 and is one of Melbourne’s oldest amusement parks. It houses the oldest continually operating wooden roller coaster in the world. It is one of only nine of its kind still operating and it offers its riders stunning views of Port Phillip Bay. Eager to absorb the history and enjoy the rides, we entered the park through the enormous gaping mouth of what I assumed to be a jester’s head. Our gaze was immediately drawn to an ominous scene of a cherry picker that had been precariously deployed to reach a stuck carriage of the Metropolis roller coaster ride. After sufficient gawking, we back tracked and walked right out of the park! Later that night, TV news revealed that the riders of the Metropolis were trapped in the carriage for several hours before firemen freed them from their ordeal. Thankfully, no one was injured!

I met up with Cathy, Lorna and her pre-teen daughter the next day sans Gurbir, as he had gone clubbing the night before and wanted to sleep in. It was to be a day of sophistication and culture. We visited the Arts Centre with its impressive spire wrought of steel webbing that dramatically pierces 162m skyward. The Arts Centre is the cultural nerve centre of Melbourne, where it has long been associated with the arts and entertainment. On our visit, a collection of pop princess, Kylie Minogue’s, sequined, feathered and rhinestone-d concert costumes was on exhibit. Next to the Arts Centre was the National Gallery of Victoria. Within its cavernous halls were modern installation pieces, contemporary artwork, sculptures and classic masterpieces. I am not going to masquerade as an art aficionado and claim to be able to comprehend the nuances and symbolism it usually conceals. Honestly, after a while, I just got bored with the place. But I didn’t say anything because both Cathy and Lorna seemed to be enjoying themselves so much. All that culture worked up quite an appetite! Gurbir finally deigned to grace us with his presence, and together, we headed off to the supermarket for some serious grocery shopping, because we were going to have an Ozzie barbeque at Cathy’s house! While filling up the cart with all the necessary produce for the barbeque, beta and I came across a rather peculiar meat. It looked like beef, but was in fact kangaroo meat! We were rather conflicted, on the one hand, we felt so sorry for the poor kangaroo, but on the other, we were intrigued by what the meat would taste like. After wrangling with our conscience, gluttony scored an ignominious win while compassion was defeated. Oh well, the circle of life continues!

We drove back to Cathy’s home with the boot groaning under the weight of our purchases. Soon, all hands were on deck and everybody chipped in to prepare for the night’s feasting! Cathy’s humble kitchen started churning out hamburger patties, kebabs, marinated kangaroo rump, baby spinach salad and coleslaw. Red and green peppers, courgettes, large white button mushrooms, onions and aubergines were washed and cut, poised for their baptism of fire which would transform them into smoky, juicy and deliciously charred roasted vegetables! What a spread it was going to be! With the obligatory Australian wines well chilled and the barbeque pit all aflame and raring to go, it was time to start the revelry! The crisp notes and the fruity flavour of the chilled Australian chardonnay was the perfect aperitif! Soon, slabs of meat and vegetables were happily grilling away on the pit. The aromas released were absolutely mouth-watering. While waiting for the food to cook, we temporarily staved off our hunger pangs with the salads and nacho chips. Once the meats were cooked, civility flew out the window and we turned into Neanderthals! It was great! The kangaroo meat was divine! We stuffed our greedy guts beyond capacity and were soon sat around unmoving, but satiated with big stupid grins on our faces and vegetating in contentment! Scrumptious food, good wine and great company, what more could we have asked for?

After a good night’s sleep, our wonderful host, Cathy, drove us to the leafy Dandenong Ranges. It comprises of a set of low mountain ranges which consist mostly of rolling hills, steep valleys and gullies covered in thick temperate rainforest. She suggested going there to take in the fresh air and scenery and most importantly, to witness Mother Nature’s Fall collection which would showcase her penchant for warm tones of ambers, reds, oranges and yellows during this season. It was to be a performance that would rival any Parisian couturier’s fashion show! All around, Mother Nature’s magnificent models were dressed in her finest autumnal creations. Several slender models clamoured for attention with their outrageous flame red tops, whilst others, not to be outdone, flaunted vibrant yellow canopies, full-bodied varieties toned things down with understated maroons and yet others sported amber crowns and even quirkier ones accessorised with burgundy crests, all this amid a backdrop of evergreens! It was stunning and breathtaking! What a show! Brava!

After the spectacular viewing, we went to Miss Marple’s Tea House. It was a quintessentially English tea house, in mock Tudor style. Inside, we found a gallery of Miss Marple memorabilia and an impressive collection of English teapots. No detail was overlooked to recreate the look and feel of a typical English tea house, from the furniture to the fixtures to the cutlery to the table setting to the wall paper. This was clearly a labour of love! The proprietor of the establishment had to be either an eccentric Brit or a rabid Anglophile with a fetish for Agatha Christie’s elderly amateur detective! Naturally, we sat down to tea, cakes and hot buttery scones served with fresh cream and a selection of jams. Utterly delightful! To walk off the heavy cream and sinful confectionery, we decided to hike along one of the various walking trails found in and around the Ranges. The trail was interspersed with strange primeval looking palms which would have looked more at home in the Jurassic era rather than the here and now! In a never ending scramble for what precious little sunlit real estate that’s available, ferns clung desperately on host trees, vines launched tendrils and tentacles clutching for dear life whilst creepers carpeted the forest floor shrouding any available space with luxuriant foliage. Tall proud conifers stood out like silent sentinels of the forest. In such a magical setting, the only thing missing were the wood nymphs and tree sprites! To end our little excursion, Cathy brought us to one of the numerous lookout points in Dandenong. There we had a fantastic view of Dandenong Creek with the scent of eucalyptus floating in the air. What a wonderful way to end our visit to Melbourne! The downside was that we had to endure more scowling and loathing from the dour BA bitches on our return leg! Right back at ya BITCHES!

The land of a thousand smiles! How fond I am of Amazing Thailand. Once again, its siren song has lured me to its shores. For this weekend trip, I checked into the Bangkok Marriott Resort and Spa, and it certainly did not disappoint! The expansive marble and hardwood floored lobby had plush upholstered seats with distinct Thai triangular cushions. Contemporary artwork and sculptures mingled with Zen like flower arrangements adding to the eclectic feel of the place. The colour palate was a blend of reds, ambers and beiges, which exuded a very inviting and cosy ambience. My room had polished hardwood floors, modern artwork and a mix of rattan and teak furniture which imbued it with a subtle but unmistakable Thai flavour. Located by the banks of the famed Chao Phraya River, its lush landscaped grounds and traditional Thai architecture transports you to an oasis of serenity and luxury right in the heart of metropolitan Bangkok. The sprawling grounds that this resort occupies, easily makes it a travel destination in itself. There are many enclaves within the gardens whereby one can escape to enjoy the verdant greenery. Along the corridors, one can lounge on the numerous day beds or reclining rattan chairs arranged around large teak coffee tables and take in the view. The resort has painstakingly arranged various varieties of palms, ferns and frangipani to create a tropical paradise within its compound. Everywhere you look, the eye is constantly greeted by greenery, either through archways, windows or balconies. Bougainvillea drapes many parts of the resort’s facade, perhaps to create a hanging garden effect. Gurgling fountains, gentle waterfalls and other babbling water features are incorporated into the resort’s garden theme to soothe the harried and harassed. Walkways are lined with large water filled urns which spring forth glorious lotuses and delicate water-lilies. All in the effort to lull you into a state of utter relaxation. To further induce bliss, there is the Mandara Spa, but unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to indulge in its extensive treatment menu! The resort’s inviting and immense swimming pool is encircled by comfortable deck chairs and even more greenery. I cannot help but feel that great pains have been taken by the management to engineer the feeling of time slowing down while in the resort. Heavenly!