Advertisement
Published: September 16th 2023
Edit Blog Post
We keep the blackout blinds open overnight, but it doesn’t seem to make a lot of difference. Jetlag’s still got a firm hold and we miss breakfast yet again.
The signs on the lift say not to use it if there’s a fire … or an earthquake. This is good advice I’m sure, but where are the stairs, or are we perhaps supposed to just jump over our room's balcony? I‘m suddenly glad we’re only on the first floor, although it’s still a fair drop even from there. There’s a palm tree a couple of metres out from the railing, so maybe we could leap out on to that and slide down to the ground if we really had to. I’m not finding that option all that appealing, so I head out in search of the elusive set of stairs. Eventually I spot them, right up one end of a long corridor. I hope the fire we’re trying to escape from isn’t coming from that direction. The stairs don’t lead outside, the door at the bottom just opens into an equally long corridor on the ground floor, and it‘d be a long hike from there to outside safety if a
blaze broke out or the ground started to shake and walls and ceilings started collapsing all around us. And to think I was feeling quite relaxed when I woke up.
We head out for a mid-afternoon stroll along the beach and then inland along Seminyak’s back streets. There seem to be quite a few abandoned hotels here that presumably didn’t manage to reopen after the pandemic. It’s sad to think that so many people on this beautiful island are so totally reliant on tourism for their income, and the devastating impact that COVID must have had on everyday life here. Just about every business in the back blocks seems to be tourist related - hotels, restaurants, tour operators, tattoo parlours, money exchangers and massage parlours, and I’ve probably missed a few. Everyone tries to get you into their establishment, but they do it in such a friendly and polite way; it never feels aggressive or threatening.
We’re not finding anything too interesting in the backstreets so we head in through the back entrance of one of the fancy resorts. There are security guards on the gates and we wait to be interrogated - ”are you a guest of
the hotel sir, and if so what’s your room number, and if you lie to us we’re going to lock you up and throw away the key”. Well that’s what we were expecting, but no it’s “good afternoon, sir how are you” delivered with a broad smile and a slightly reverential bow as they welcome us in. I’m sure we’re not supposed to be here. All the resorts seem to have security guards, but we’re now starting to wonder why. I’ve never seen any of them stop anyone, and they all seem really welcoming and friendly. And the gates on this resort, at least, aren’t really gates at all, just flimsy booms, so if someone wanted to charge through with a truckload full of explosives I’m not sure there’d be an awful lot the guards could do other than jump out of the way. I’m sure I must be missing something here.
Anyway onto the day’s major excitement. My beloved Blues have managed to survive another week, so there’s yet another final to be watched on my trusty iPad. As I think I might have mentioned previously, Issy videoed me watching last week’s tense game and then posted it
on Facebook. It wasn’t a pretty sight. So this week I’m determined to be on my best behaviour, which is proving easier said than done. The Blues hit the front by a solitary point with fifty-six seconds left on the clock and then manage to hang on for an epic win. If the look on Issy’s face is anything to go by I suspect the entire resort now knows the result.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.045s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 10; qc: 28; dbt: 0.018s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb