First the basics:

Today started off overcast but ended with a pleasant sunset.

We ate our included hotel breakfast which consisted of rice, stir-fried veggies, toast, jam, luke-warm coffee, and what tasted more like Tang than orange juice. I wouldn’t call it a breakfast of champions, but it got the job done.

Then we had beers at 10:30am as we waited for the sky to decide to do what it wanted. Finally, it cleared up and we headed to the beach.

Now the entertaining stuff:

“The beach in Kuta is like no other.” We later heard those words from a professional American beach bum who ran a bar on beach. A bar on beach consists of a few old Coca-cola coolers stacked upon each other. Quite frantic-looking, really. Again, it gets the job done. The beach, while it gets the job done, also offers a host of other distractions. Like local “sales and marketing” people offering their services and merchandise. Services include: massage, mani-pedis, surfing lessons, beach-chair w/ umbrella rental. Merchandise includes towels, fresh fruit, rice-field hats, beach mats, watches, rings, bracelets, paintings, tattoos, ice cream, and myriad chatschis (sp?).

If you entertain the thought of buying something by engaging in casual conversation with the beach sales professional, you’re buying something or walking off the beach. We were offered massages by a local woman just minutes after we got settled. Not ready to “completely relax” we told her to come back later (half hoping we wouldn’t be bothered later). Well, she came back. And I figured, what the hell. So I started talking price. There are so many variables with massages–time, appendages, pressure level (not really), number of people–which makes it difficult to negotiate with clarity, especially when one’s not used to negotiating on a beach (I’m on vacation, dammit…just leave me alone!). Somehow we agreed on 320K (~32 USD) for both Brianna and I. Sixteen bucks each for a body massage didn’t seem horrible. Plus the chairs we had to rent while getting massaged (another 50K). Plus the trio of frenzied foot-fetished females who wouldn’t shut the f*ck up while I was getting my back massaged and who insisted that they had to rub some stone on my feet to make them as smooth as a g*d d*mn baby’s *ss. I thought I already was going to pay this other lady to do my feet! (Meanwhile, Brianna hates negotiating and is getting furious with barrage of questioning of price to do the feet.) I just want peace an quiet during my massage. So, fine, fine. Do the feet. Well, I thought I agreed to 150K. Long story short, they’re good talkers. And you pay them to stop talking. They got a good laugh when I told them that they should walk around and tell people to pay them to shut up. They liked the phrase “shut up.” Don’t think they ever heard that one before. So when time came to pay, I didn’t have enough to cover my first agreement of the 320K; and now I tried to weasel my way out of the 150 down to 110 so we could just be done with it all. Nope. They’re women. They just keep talking. Ok, ladies, I need more money, so I’ll give you some now and then some more later. “Okay, we’ll take the 110 now–“Snatch.”and you can go get more while we wait with your wife.” Sunova.

I hit the road w/ my backpack filled with 4 iPhones, a DSLR, 4 lenses, and my wallet, and set out to find the nearest ATM. I got my 1.2 million rupiah and sorted it out so I didn’t have a huge wad of cash when I got back.

“Oh, you’re still here. I’m surprised Brianna didn’t make a run for it!” They chuckled and started making jokes about how I’ll get a happy happy ending tonight and make a baby in Bali. “Here’s your money. Now leave us alone.”

“Thank you, thank you!”

So the damn foot fetish cost me another 300K when all was said and done, not to mention the ATM fee TD will gladly charge me. 320 turned into 330, plus the 50 for the chairs. Total on massage: 680K.

I forgot to mention Kiki, the bracelet lady who disturbed us during our massages. I told her to come back in 30 minutes. Big mistake, because she actually did. And she wouldn’t leave. Ihad to buy something from this woman or leave the beach for real. I ended up getting 4 bracelets for 110,000 rupiah (actually 5, because she did a poor job with her inventory).

So now I’m almost Rp800,000 into a day at the beach (I think season beach badges at Lavallette are only $35–and the ice cream truck song is the only annoying soliciting to deal with).

I’m a sucker. I know that. But I figure these people are actually working for their money, not collecting unemployment in droves. Yea, it’s poor here. And the streets are dirty. But they’re working. I’m the rich American to them, and they’re not stupid. They know how to work me. And they did. A little pouty face here and there. Good for them. They had a nice day at the beach. And so did we.

At the end of that escapade, we met Tiger (local native) and this dude from South Carolina who now lives here. I shared some observations and we had a laugh about how persistent the women are here. He tells me that he pays 2.6 million/month for a room with a TV (but a cold shower, which is common) and the street food costs $0.75. This gave me insight as to the cost of living in Bali. Upon leaving the beach, I realized that the ladies made out pretty well. Just a few suckers like me is all it takes to make rent!

P.S. – I didn’t take my camera out for any of this (stupid), but in the moment I wanted to keep what looked like expensive stuff to myself. Not a lot of leverage negotiating while you’re driving a Bently. The words will have to do.

Here are some other photos from earlier in the day and at lunch.

First morning tracks on Kuta Beach.

I negotiated in a photo when we were buying our beach towels. 110,000 IDR for two. Probably could have worked that more, but that was my first negotiation.

Enjoying the morning surf.

Garlic fries and an ice cold Bintang.

Two Americans on holiday.