Jax Burgoyne Writes

The best thing about going to see the Cirque du Soleil do a Michael Jackson themed performance was the row of teenaged girls who every now and then (including when the screen whizzed up a MJ signature) screamed, 'We love you Michael!'.  Hopefully they were believers in the spirit world, and didn't think he was actually there. 

This was a trip (we're back in Hong Kong with Tabs and Matt again) that Tabs' friends had arranged for her birthday.  The music was fantastic (obviously), although occasionally they did remixes, or would have just a snippet of a song then move onto another, which made it intermittently hard to sing along.  It did feel more like a dance performance than a flying trapeze circus-stunts style thing (I was reminded of...that dance troupe that won Britain's Got Talent) - there were no diving through the air hands-free tricks.  A few people were lifted up and down on wires in pretty poses, one very flexible lady climbed out of a giant book, some men dressed in white Swan Lake-esque shorts did a few back flips....  And they began with MJ's childhood, and then moved onto his love of children (Neverland and some monkey I wasn't aware existed) - some slight awkwardness registered in even this stadium of fans. 

The most impressive thing - and it was very impressive - was the pole dancer.  And it wasn't sexy-vixen pole dancing, it was 'How the hell is she doing that?!' pole dancing.  I was trying to think of ways to describe it: basically if you imagine a star fish, a completely dried one, so rigid hard.  Put one point of it next to a pole, just touching.  Let go.  And it somehow stays up.  And twirls around a bit.  (It also climbed up the pole itself, before becoming rigid.)  How!?  Fingers of steel.

And yesterday we spent in Macau.  Gambling den of sin.  Also ex-Portuguese colony, so the old town bit of it had some beautiful Portuguese buildings in it.  We arrived at the fanciest hotel in the world.  (Well, the fanciest one I'd ever been in.)  It had a lounge, another lounge, a bathroom, a toilet, a bedroom, three big plasma tvs.  (We got a deal from a friend of Tabs' who worked there.)  Then we went out to the old town and to see a ruins bit.  In the old town, which was beautiful, we had some delicious tapas and Tabs coined a new phrase: water-juice.  This = ice :)  Zoe bought one of the famous custard tarts.  I did not, because I'm not really a fan of custard tarts. 

After that it was back to the hotel for complimentary cocktails/glass of wine, then across the street (more complicated than you'd think, but we were a little surprised that Tabs' friend had advised us to get one of the free coaches: it was genuinely the other side of the road) to the Venetian. 

In the hotel, I checked my phone and had received 4 text messages.  3 advertised hotels in the area, and one warned me severely against smoking in another hotel.  (And also said something about children, I think - presumably in a related way.)  I read some more of my book and discovered that the 100 years war DID actually last over 100 years.  I'd always assumed that was an exaggeration.  I expect, however, that they weren't fighting constantly the whole time.  Maybe it's like that country that's still at war from WWII (or something) because they forgot to finish the paperwork, or maybe it was more like every now and then a French or English family would look up over their breakfast/dinner and think 'Grr those French, I hate them, and we are at war with them'/the French equivalent.  Going out to drink our cocktail outside, I temporarily forgot where I was, and thought, 'Oh no, I'm a bit cold now, and I'm about to go outside.  If only I had my jacket.': stepped out the door and my glasses steamed up (a la entering a pub in England in Winter).

So, the Venetian.  I think I was told this is the biggest hotel in the world.  I would Google that fact to check it.  It has canals inside and outside, and you can go on a gondola ride if you want, under the painted blue sky.  It has shops, restaurants, bars with live music, I think a cinema, rooms to sleep in (presumably), and a casino.  Tabs was telling us about some of the tricks of the gambling trade: 1. They pump oxygen into the air so you don't get sleepy, 2. The blue sky etc are all so you don't know what time it is, 3.  She said it was really hard to find your way out.  There are some signs, but things are confusing.  We're not sure if this is an intentional trick or not - it took us 2 attempts to find our way out (stopped in a bar and listened to a fantastic band for a bit before attempt number two). 

And as for the Vice.  Zoe and Tabs had a go on a roulette wheel.  It was quite fun to watch it.  Zoe lost her money straight away, Tabs made some money.  It seemed to be more worthwhile (kind of unsurprisingly given statistics etc) to go for little wins by choosing red or black, or odds or evens etc, rather than hoping for a specific number or choice of 4.  A man came and sat next to me and fell asleep but somehow did not fall over, despite being perched on a stool, it was kind of scary and dead, in general, with lots of electronic screens rather than real-life things, and the croupiers were frequently asleep/rather angry looking (our one hated us, her life, and probably life in general)/one was doing some kind of meditation. 

The best part of the evening was when we went shopping. I didn't buy anything but Tabs found a nice dress and tried to help me into being fashionable/looking good by encouraging me to try it on - dress and cut being good etc.  I tried it on but wasn't convinced.  Change, ugh.  And in the process....  Well, Zoe and Tabs heard me laughing from inside the changing room, just little bursts of giggling.  Basically I somehow managed to get my long necklace down and round my waist while putting on the dress.  It had no clasp or anything, and was fairly snugly round my waist.  It made a nice belt-necklace thing, like were around in the 90's I think, but I had no way of removing it save scissors or someone else's assistance. 

Hee hee.  (I still keep laughing about it now.  How did I manage it?)

I needed help, so Zoe came in, with me standing in skirt and a bra, and pulled it up and back to round my neck.  Saviour! 

And now we're back at the flat and Tabs and Matt's kitten Audrey is back from staying at friends (they've been away on holiday while we've been away).  Audrey is a cat that is weirdly ginger: it looks like she's had ginger tips done over her general tortoiseshell fur.  And she miaows a lot.  But she is cute, because kittens can't not be.

For those of us who've seen 28 Days Later (Mum, Dad, it's a zombie film where this guy wakes up from a coma to find the streets and everywhere deserted - because the zombies are nocturnal!), certain scenes will always remind us of horrifying rabid humans ready to spit in our face or, indeed, tear our face off.

Nusa Dua shopping complex type place after 10am is a bit like that.  The airport was like that except not even remotely scary.  It was fun.  By the end of it Zoe and I were pretty frayed, but we managed to avoid arguments or violence.  Go us :)

The airport place we found to try to sleep had sofas, which was good, but was really air conditioned, and really well lit.  So we didn't really sleep.  11 hour layover.  We checked in (as we were told) and they reprinted our boarding passes (apparently these had been printed.  But they weren't given to us.) and then we had to go and hang out in the airport overnight - we stayed by Gate D3.  In the morning some perky Americans appeared: we went to Starbucks.

Oh, another word of warning about Denpasar Airport (Bali), which is the bane of Zoe and our lives: you have to pay to leave too.  Which they don't tell you when you're queueing for ages to have your passport looked at, or for various other things.  So you've gone through all the queues, checked in, dumped your luggage.  And you've got rid of all your money as felt you no longer needed it.  THEN you discover the charge, have to turn back, and there's no cash machine inside the terminal, so you have to go ALL THE WAY OUT AGAIN.  And queue again....  Annoying.

So back to the airport - this is what I wrote at the time (in a somewhat excited state, for some reason).

'Well, it's actually quite fun so far.  Had a cup of tea at Starbucks, which was still that big sack of twigs hey've switched to, but somehow tasted quite nice (without milk).  Maybe I'm getting used to it.  We met a US girl from...Maryland I think, who's also here overnight.  We've left her in Starbucks (now closed) but we might return. 

We've come to a nice rest place where there's these stamps (printing not licking) for your zodiac sign, and couches/soft sitting things long enough to lie on.  Obviously there is now in my notebook/art book a pig (me) and a rat (Zoe).  Zoe is doing yoga, and I just had great fun walking first all the way left, and then all the way right.  I've photographed bins and fire paraphenalia and other such stuff to my heart's content (well, the battery's going, but I was almost done anyway). 

To the left I found a Mind Rest Place (or something), including computers and books, but that was sadly just closing as I came back.  I've resisted running madly down the corridors/gap between the shops (not really a corridor - indoor avenue?  I'm sure there's a word), but I did have to go the wrong way down a travelator at what was probably the human equivalent of a fast trot.  I have so far resisted playing in the kid's place.  There's slides!!!

I'm going to read the patronising book a bit more (maybe) - and those brackets are to show it's very unlikely - draw a picture, then we'll probably watch The Holiday.'

(In the end I ran the wrong way on a travelator twice.  The second time quite fast - more of a canter.  I resisted all other temptations.)

(Except taking a photo of myself in one of those things where there's two people, like a mermaid and a seaman, with holes instead of faces.  Sadly you can't really see in the picture.)

Just thought I'd add a couple of bits about the pictures below and our final evening and morning in Bali, before moving onto The Layover.

First, when Zoe and I first arrived in Bali we saw these stands of Absolut vodka on the street.  Except it looked like it had been diluted with various amounts of wee!  I am pleased to report that don't worry, it's petrol.  However why Absolut vodka bottles are the petrol bottles of choice, I do not know.  Should have asked....

Second, on the last evening we treated ourselves to a Posh Night Out (although still only about £25 each for a meal).  Someone had recommended Potato Head, so out we went.  It's a restaurant/bar, and you drive/get driven by the taxi driver down a long entrance-road, staff members check the boot of the car, you rock up at a modern glass-shortscraper type building, BUT made with blue and green window shutters.  And when you enter (down another corridor), you're confronted with: WHAM!  (Club Tropicana.)  It's great!  I mean it's not quite that cheesy, but I just kept expecting George and the other one to suddenly appear in Relax t-shirts, shorts, orange tans, and start singing.  At this restaurant I had two new experiences: first, I had a drink recommended to me by the waiter.  A recommendation, which I followed!  And the other thing was that, when I received it, it was DELICIOUS!!  I had a Kookaburra.  Mainly because it was recommended, and also because it had the name (and the link to the song - Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree), and also because it was #33, which is a good number.  And yes, normally with alcoholic beverages they're quite nice, but there's still a feeling of drinking something somewhat for a purpose other than taste.  But this was exceptional: yum.

So then the next morning we packed and killed time (I wandered around a few side-streets), and I said goodbye to Jackie at the bar about 3 times because I kept passing back by, killing a little bit more time.  The third time he was a bit worried I'd miss my flight!

I kept on seeing Bintang everywhere.  It's apparently Indonesia's favourite beer.  I have now had one.  (At Jackie's place.  He doesn't own it, I don't think, but in my mind it's his place.)  And I'd seen some nice t-shirts and vest-tops with it on them.  I thought 'this would be a nice souvenir of the holiday, as long as I also drink one: it's quite nice, fairly standard and inoffensive beer.  I.e. along the Sol/Corona/um...green bottle, English? type beer.  Rather than that really strong tasting stuff that you get from Real Ale places like The Fat Cat (in Norwich). 

So, in a shop with all this 'cut price' stuff, the type you see everywhere, I found a top I liked.  I looked at it, critically.  (Don't show too much interest.)

One man said to me "100" - which means 100,000 IDR".

I had read in The Book, that you usually offered, first, a third or half of the price, and then they counter-offered, and eventually you agreed on about 2/3 of the price.
I said, "300" (which means 300,000 IDR).  The man looked confused.
I said, "I mean 600."
Zoe managed to get me to then say '60' instead.
Another man in the shop came up.
He said, "120."
I said, "Wait, that man said 100."
Then I said to Zoe, "Hmm, do you think it'll be a bit see-through."  (Cunning move!)
I said, "60."
He said, "You have to give me over 100."
I said, "70."
Zoe said, "Come on, let's go."
He said, "Ok, 70."
I said, "80."
He said, "Ok."
I said, "Wait, I meant 70...."  But it was too late.  D'oh.
Still, that was my first bit of bartering.
Good thing Zoe was there.

Sadly, the next morning I woke up in a random grump - possibly a reaction to the sad fact that we're leaving Bali tomorrow afternoon.  I keep reminding myself we still have 5 days of stuff in Hong Kong before finally going home, including the Cirque de Soleil, but still, there's a feeling of things closing/winding down. 

Or maybe it was just the inevitable contrast with the night before.

We went to check out the beach and I was annoyed by the fact of having to pay to sit on some sun loungers, even though that is the way it works, and they were nice and comfy.  Then I was annoyed by the waves going up under the sun lounger - I had to move it back, into the sun, away from the shade.  Luckily the tide was going out, so this situation didn't last long.

The grump wasn't helped by the fact that the Small History of the World (or whatever it is) that I'm reading is aimed at children and written in that 50s? 'writing for children' style that feels very patronising.  It's not just that it's aimed at children, it's the writing style - talking to you saying 'Now, you may be asking me, when did this happen....' etc.  Interesting stuff, but The Grump was not impressed.

It was also not impressed by the many many people who kept coming by trying to sell me things while I attempted to read my patronising book.  I retreated into 'pretending to be asleep' until, eventually, they generally got the picture.

We had lunch again at the restaurant where Jackie works - and I had another chicken caesar baguette which was, again, delicious.  Still grumpy.

I had a nice long bath.

The Grump is receding.

Luckily Zoe is a very patient person.

So, when we arrived in Seminyak it was mid-afternoon.  We dropped our stuff off at the hotel, and then wandered around a bit.  Zoe wanted to do some shopping which took her further afield, so she flagged down a taxi (and I wandered back to the hotel to do some writing).  This is when Zoe met Our Taxi Driver.  I need to ask him his name again, because my memory is terrible, but I know he said it meant 'Sun'.  When Zoe came back from doing her shopping she said that he was a really friendly man, and he is!  So when we decided to go to a shisha restaurant place to try a bit, we rang him up (Zoe had his card) to take us there. 

In the taxi we were chatting away about friends, family, his house/hotel he's building (if anyone wants an idyllic rural hideaway close to Padang Bai and various other places), and things like that.  He asked us if we liked karaoke, and we said we didn't really, but somehow that descended into us singing, badly (with completely different music playing in the car) Adele, 'Rolling in the Deep', Ronan Keating (?)'s...was it Words?  Baby Can I Hold You Tonight?  (Is that the name of a song?) Or something else?...and various other tunes.

We got to the place and invited him in and he came along :)  Clearly another person, like Jackie, who is more focussed on having a happy life than chasing money (although he is saving hard for his house-hotel). 

And we chatted about many other things in the restaurant.  First, with houses being so cheap here, Zoe and I's madcap scheme to come live here started sounding less madcap - and we shocked him with our talk of house prices and rent in England.  We chatted about friendliness/not in different countries.  Apparently when you're here in Bali and walking along and all the taxi drivers keep asking you if you want a taxi, well, 'Sun' said, "We know you don't need a taxi, we just...we're just trying to...you know...."  Make a connection, chat, be friendly.  I told him about my friend Vix from London who came up to Norwich and kept saying things like, "Here they keep offering to help you, and they mean it!"  But I had to add that compared to Bali, Norwich was still not great.  And he told a story of motorbiking I think it was on his way home, and he saw a tourist stopped under a bridge studying a map.  

Sun said, "I asked him if he needed help, and he said nothing, and I thought maybe he hadn't heard me, so I asked again.  And then he folded up his map and zoomed off, you know, really really fast.  And then, later, I caught up and he'd had an accident.  I said to him, 'You need to go to hospital', and he said 'I know', and then we called him an ambulance and we all said, 'Don't worry about your motorbike, we will leave it in one of these houses here, it will be safe.'  But he didn't say anything else."

And. as the night went on, we started talking about film ideas - first Robin and I's war idea (I couldn't remember the ending I'd managed to work out - luckily I've written it down...hopefully legibly), and then Sun suggested I do a film about him, his life, or about all the people a taxi driver comes in contact with (I said a bit like 'Paris Je T'aime', or 'New York I Love You').  Then, because Sun had been talking to us about two Russian friends he had made, who he said were very attractive and only a little younger than us (we said we'd be the judge of that), we thought about 'Taxi Dating.com' - a film about a taxi driver who helps people find love - first he talks to the person looking, finds out what they want, then he trawls the roadways to find them some possibilities.  (It should probably be called #taxidating, to fit with these modern times.)

Finally, at about midnight, maybe a bit later, our taxi driver took us home.