Bali High... Again!

I have been rather lazy with my snaps during this Bali work trip. The food and scenery failed to interest me. My mind was just to preoccupied with the pile of projects screaming for my attention in Singapore.

In fact these are the only food photos I took; feast on 'em:



Yeah, I told you I was lazy.

For this trip I was housed at Westin Nusa Dua which is the closest to the convention centre where the trade event was being held. Hell, despite it being a Westin property, I experienced one of the worst rooms ever. The first thing that hit me when I entered the room was the stench of the toilet.

Two things most important in any accomodation I seek out - clean, spacious bathroom and clean, comfy bed. And Westin failed the first. Thankfully the bed was alright.

Even the interior looked drab. How to be happy, you tell me?

The rest of my team stayed at the new Novotel Nusa Dua which totally rocks with its quality of creature comforts although it isn't within walking distance to the convention centre!

Kat, as usual, got upgraded to the suite which offers two spacious bedrooms and bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bloody private pool. And being the sweet girl that she is, she invited me to room in with her. Bitterly, I had to turn her down because I really needed the proximity to the show site.

I only moved in on the final day of the trade event so that we could both get drunk together on the last night in Bali, lumber back in each other's arms and rush to the airport together on Saturday.

This is how the swanky suite looks like:




You have to agree that the pool is an absolutely screw-inducing spot. It feels even more screw-inducing under the moonlight.

Despite feeling quite under the weather for this trip, I did manage to squeeze in some fun time, thanks to Irene's stern insistence.

The bunch of us were invited to a party and we were 'driven' to the party venue, which is a cosy private villa by the beach, by roaring, chunky bikes, some being Harleys. With that many chunky bikes filling out Westin's front porch, my editor and photographer decided to take a group shot with the party organisers. Us girls were asked to straddle the bikes with the males for the photo op.

The good thing was that my photo partner, RD, was a gentleman who smelled pretty nice. Heh.

Heck, these dang bikes really are chunky. I had to spread my legs real wide just to get on, and I pulled a muscle in my right thigh when I got off. It's a sure sign that I have not been screwing enough.

My knees were shaking throughout the ride. Being so used to riding in a car, I felt vulnerably exposed.

Anyway, the party was brilliant! Even my Group Editor who was often conservative, took to the drinks.

At the rate we were downing beer, wine and champagne, we were wasted quite soon. Manna started to tease the singer and waiters by giving them white roses plucked from the decorative vases near the bar area. Marisa did cartwheels down the garden, much to some guests' amusement. Then the rest of us stole more roses and started giving each other ridiculous flower-related nicknames and hollering loudly in laughter.

Irene was Fat Flower.

Kat was Wilted Flower.

Manna was a Flower that nobody wants since she is still unmarried and choosy.

Marisa was Vain Flower.

And Manna named me Mis-matched Flower. She reasoned that I am more suited to a tall, suave white man like Brad Pitt. Fans of Mr Pitt please forgive her - she was absolutely drunk.

Three hours into the party and the bunch of us left the crowd and proceeded to the beach with full glasses and bottle of wine in hand.

We were just rowdy and were kicking sand at everyone else. I found that my Longchamp was filled with sand the next day! Darren had sand in his cellphone and it jammed the buttons. Manna had sand inside her jeans' pcokets.

I can't remember what time we finally got chased off the beach. In fact, I can't even remember how I ended up sleeping on the sofa in my room! I woke up at 6am the next day with a dreadful headache and backache (no thanks to the lousy sofa) in my PJs and my lenses and make-up completely removed.

What I do remember is how we told everyone else that we are the editorial team from a rival title and how we, being so drunk, will absolutely not write any new reports for the next day's papers! Hahaha!

And yes, I also remember doing something real juicy. :) But I will only tell you over my dead body.

The hangover was so bad, I continued to blow chunks all morning and stayed queasy all day. I stay away from all alcohol that day.

Then on the final night in Bali, we went to Hu'u Bar in Seminyak.

OK, this is a funny pic cos it appears that Kat is arguing with RD. Maybe over the bill. And RD is insisting on paying. Heh.

It was a wild night and RD played the generous host to us. When he noticed that I was moving too slowly on my gin tonic, he asked what I would prefer to drink. I told him quite frankly that I am a wine and champagne girl but the wine was terrible at Hu'u Bar. The next thing I knew, he ordered Veuve Clicquot! I felt quite bad and told Kat that we should pick up the tab for the champagne, but RD would hear none of it.

He bought two bottles in the end and even asked if I would like somemore when the second one was emptied. I was sensible enough to decline and reverted to the cheaper mixers.

Shit, now as I think of this, I realised that I have not really thanked him for footing the bill all night! Urgh, I am horrible.

I hated to leave without being completely wasted. But we had to wake up in time for our 1.05pm flight and Kat insisted we retire by 3am.

You know, I was still wide awake when I got back to the room - sober enough to take a 30-min bubble bath and watch some TV before sleeping at 5am.

And RD was super sweet to text me in the morning to wake me for my flight. I am smittened.

Shit. I know - dangerous waters.