Bali - Nusa Dua, Kuta, Seminyak

After spending about 48 hours traveling, I was highly anticipating putting the “Flash” in “Flashpacker” by pooling hotel points with fellow consultant Frances Chao and redeeming them at swanky resorts.

When I boarded the plane from Singapore to Bali, I “befriended” two middle-aged Americans who were sharing a quick weekend in Bali after a quick work stint in Singapore. I use the term “befriended” loosely because the interaction was more like, “If you have to use the restroom, I recommend using it now, because I am going to be passed out on this 2 hour flight and you won’t be able to rouse me.” The woman, Mary, took the subtle hint and used the restroom before takeoff. After a bit of small talk to compensate for my bitchiness, I did indeed pass out. Upon landing, we realized we were staying at the same romantic resort in Nusa Dua, and being the friendly Americans they are, they offered me a free lift to the hotel.

The Laguna Resort and Spa is part of Starwood’s Luxury Collection and Frances and I booked our first night here because we were arriving different times, and frankly, the W Retreat in Seminyak was sold out. Upon arrival at the Laguna, I happily learn that Frances has pulled rank with Platinum status and gotten us upgraded. I know that Karma is a bitch, and the Americans had been very generous, so I approach the front desk with what can only be called Grasso Charm and get them a free upgrade as well. (Grasso Charm is that subtly aggressive way I have of talking with a friendly smile but really saying, “You don’t dare say no to me.”)

Frances has flown from Thailand and brought with her a smorgasbord of trinkets and gifts, but most importantly alcohol. We pregamed a bit, and although I had been traveling over 48 hours, we headed to Kuta.

Kuta probably the most well-known area of Balii that was the sight of that notorious nightclub bombing in October 2002. They have only in the past few weeks convicted the mastermind behind that act of terrorism. I don’t know how to describe my impression of Kuta. Maybe it’s Australia’s version of Spring Break Cancun, or maybe it’s even more trashy than that. Regardless, Frances and I immediately realize we are both the oldest and soberest. We can’t change our age, so instead we aim to change our state of sobriety.It does the trick and before we know it, we have a pair of teenage British male gymnasts buying us drinks and doing back handsprings across the dance floor. We look at our watches and see it is 4am and realize we need to get the hell out of Kuta and never ever return.

The next day, we transfer to the long-awaited W Hotel and Retreat in Seminyak. Ahhhh. Frances apparently has Chao Charm too, and we get upgraded to a private villa, complete with private swimming pool.

This property just opened in March 2011, and we were in time for the grand opening festivites. That night, I use my own Grasso Charm to get us into the VIP area of a Dmitri From Paris performance. I happen to have a Dmitri From Paris CD at home so was especially excited about this event. Once inside, Frances was floored to find the cost of her cocktail about $40 USD. While nursing her drink (likely calculating the cost of each sip because she’s a consultant) we get approached by 2 expats living in Singapore who randomly recognized me from the plane . You can all take your minds out of the gutter, because they were married, but they had bottles of vodka and Frances was not about to pay another $40 for a buzz.

Seminyak is really a high-end tourist taste of Bali – there are cute boutiques, trendy restaurants and yoga studios predominately owned by expats. We knew it wasn’t the real Bali, but couldn’t resist savoring the extravagance for a few days. I was highly aware of the vast difference between sharing a dorm room with 8 strangers to being the master of a private villa at the W. The W had extraordinary service including complimentary beach boot camps and onsite face spritzers. Yes, there is a hotel employee that walks around the pool with 3 flavors of face spritz and spritzes your face and then walks away with no expectation of payment or even tip.

I was still worried about money, after Brazil sank a hole in my budget, so I opted for the cheapo pampering sessions ($4.50 manicure and pedicure, skipping the $10 massage). On our last night in Seminyak, Frances was hell bent on having a good time and us enjoying ourselves to the max. In other words, she subsidized drinks.. We showed up at an Oceanside beach club called Cocoon and noticed many single, good-looking men sitting either alone or in small groups. Not one even gave us a second glance. Then we realized why as the overdressed, overly made up women started showing up. We high-tailed it out of there. Frances had to pee so we entered an empty club and I sat alone on a barstool as she took care of bidness. An older Australian approached me and asked me, “Are you working?” Well, I found this hysterical and he found this embarrassing, so he bought us some drinks to make up for it. We learned that the girls at Cocoon were really not girls, if you get my drift, so I guess we can be thankful we did not get any second glances there after all.

To top off our last night in Seminyak, Frances decided it was the right time to learn to ride a motorbike. It wasn’t. At that point I learned that the Grasso Charm can only get me so far with the Balinese taxi cab drives. My bargaining power of trying to get to the swank new resort was nonexistent, especially it being 3am with a friend profusely bleeding. We reached a happy medium of 35,000 Rupiahs, and only later that night I realized that I misplaced the decimal point while doing the currency conversion in my head and had been haggling for 40 minutes over a $5 cab ride, not a $50 cab ride.