During my recent trip to Bali, I visited the local elephant safari park, where I was able to ride a rather temperamental little elephant named Ramona. At 45 years old, she’s been working at the park for over 25 years, and as a result formed relationships with her fellow elephants. Unfortunately, Ramona and the elephant in front were seemingly on bad terms. Luckily, after a decadent show of faculty and power (consisting of a whip and a blow of the trunk), Ramona let the elephant behind pass, and we were back on track.
It all started on Wednesday. I was getting a massage from this masseuse (presumably a trainee), and I was taking my top off (hence why I think she’s a trainee; usually masseuse’s don’t tell you strip on the spot), and I accidentally hit her in the head with my hand. Ever since, my massages just haven’t been the same.
Anyway, life goes on.
I’ve just gone into the spa reception and I think I may have slightly traumatised the receptionist. I first told here I’d like a Full Body Papaya Body Polish at 8 tonight. Then I’d like an Ancient Balinese Massage at 1pm tomorrow, followed by a Back, Neck and Shoulder massage at 6pm. Finally, I asked for a Full Body Oriental Body Polish 8am Friday, my last day.
This was all, of course, after a few dozen animated facial expressions, all with the same undertone: “Please leave. You’re confusing me.”