The thing I love most about Bali is the affordable pampering. I love a massage of any kind, usually. On our last Bali - "Because We Are 40" Tour, we indulged in many a pampering session. However, there is one that stands out well and truly above the rest.
We had been hitting the uneven pavement all day and were in desperate need of some foot and lower leg work. We'd seen a sign earlier in the day advertising a place near our hotel that would specialise in exactly what we were after. It was above a restaurant, which during the day seemed empty and easy enough to navigate through. However, once the sun went down, it was a different place. People milling around out the front trying to get in. Perhaps they were lured by the scantily clad fire twirling lady who blocked the only entrance.....OH&S?
My aching limbed companion, ML and I waited for a left weighted twirl so we could squeeze by her on the right hand side without being singed. If you could imagine the movement you do with your hands when it's your turn to run into/through the jump rope.....that was us. Then all of a sudden our luck changed. Her burning hula hoop slipped to the ground and we took our chance. We excused me'd and pardon me'd our way through the mosh pit of diners until we reached the back staircase..... Just near the bins and toilets! Up those stairs was where our pampering would begin.
At first glance around the 'salon' it appeared empty. One man sat looking very relaxed in one of the 6 foot/leg chairs and one woman waiting patiently on a chair in front of a mirror. They must have offered hair dressing as well. However, when we sat down we realised that there were more people behind screens. Australian people. Australian men. Embarrassing, Australian, drunk men who clearly weren't aware that we could hear every word they were saying as if they were only behind a flimsy curtain..... Because they were indeed behind a very flimsy curtain. There was talk of "so, what time do you finish up here?" and "hahahah, wouldn't it be funny if we asked for a happy ending? hahahah...." "No seriously.... does anyone ask you for one of them?" ML and I sat in our foot/leg chair staring at each other trying to send each other telepathic messages of "O.M.G!"
The men came out from behind the curtain one by one and realised that there were other people, but didn't seem to feel embarrassed at all. They headed back downstairs for their dinner and "MORE BEERS, MORE BEERS"(imagine this sung) - they had only popped upstairs between courses for a quick one! All, except one - Johno, he stayed up for a bit more foot and leg work.
By this stage the lady who was sitting in the hair dressing chair was becoming agitated. She had been waiting for her usual lady who had been in with the Aussie gents. She kept checking her watch and tutting. She was clearly not on Bali Time! Her therapist finally escorted the woman to the back of the salon to wash her hair. Then she came screaming back out the front because she'd forgotten her shampoo so, doubled over at at the waist, with long hair flouncing in her face, began to rummage through her bag. Her hair naturally got in the way and then it became a crazed dance performance of hair flicking and tutting and inaudible mutterings. I couldn't take my eyes off her!
Completely mesmerised, I was startled when the door opened and in walked 5 French men, they had obviously made it through the fire twirling lady at the front and their reward was to be massaged. The salon was quite packed now and the Balinese ladies were having trouble trying to find therapists to suit everybody. I'm most sure where these therapists were hiding but they seemed to come from everywhere. There doesn't seem to be a "Sorry, we're booked" Policy. There are no breaks for these workers. These Frenchmen were all friends and had travelled to Bali together from 5 different parts of France. They spoke excellent English and after we got the life story of each one they were more than happy to get into the hair styled performance that was still happening before us.
She was in a real hurry now, so back down to the sink she ran, kicking one of the Balinese offerings that was on the floor. No time or cultural respect to salvage that. I had a clear view of the hair washing from my comfy foot/leg chair and at times couldn't contain my laughter. The stylist was trying to give her the treatment she had asked for, but this woman snatched the shampoo (her own, brought in from home) out of her hand and washed her hair herself in one of those lay back in a hairdresser types of chairs - no mean feat!
Then once the washing and conditioning ritual was over, out they rushed again to dry her poor over worked follicles! This is when it all became too much. The laughter and chattering and 'I can't believe it' eye rolling was universal between the Balinese women and us. She made having her hair blow dried into a complete theatrical performance. She was tossing her head upside down and flicking it back up again then brushing it within an inch of its life. Now, ML has waist length hair and comes from a beauty background and I also have hair...... so neither of us were strangers to the hair dryer so we had to hold each other down to stop us from snatching the dryer off that woman to show her how you actually dry hair - pointing the hot end towards your hair might have been a good start....
The woman's name, we learned through all of this, was Stephanie and during all the mayhem of her getting organised and then applying make up and getting dressed, all in full view of the people trying to have a relaxing foot/leg massage. We also learned that she was off to work and she was very late and was meeting somebody in a hotel somewhere. By this time everyone in the salon was into the conversation. She claimed to be French and spoke in an unrecognisable European accent. However, the Frenchmen, all hailing from different regions of France assured us that there was no way she was French. "Is it the accent that gives her away?" I asked my new French friend. "No, her behaviour!" he replied, almost disgusted.
Then all of a sudden, she got up, grabbed her bag, rammed all her belongings into it, tossed money on the counter and she was gone. The whole salon erupted in laughter and then the real story came out. Apparently Steph was a regular at the salon and would come in every day or two and would go through that whole saga. "She thinks she's our friend" admitted one of the therapists quite candidly and perhaps a little unprofessionally? Johno, who had been sitting closest to her informed us that she said she was a 'seasonal worker' in Bali which raised quite a few eye brows and questions from the Frenchmen.
{I got this picture from the internet - but it could actually be Stephanie!}
This was what I called Massage and a Show - Bali style!
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