The compensation that wasn’t…

I’ll just have a nice few relaxing days by the pool, I thought. You know, Sydney is such a stressful city, I really think I deserve a little holiday, at least until my eyes get better (long story).

“The pool is closed for maintenance,” said Putu at the Legian 101 reception desk after I’d personally dragged Winnie the Pooh up a flight of stairs because the bellboy was too busy on his mobile phone to help me.

“Excuse me?”

“Closed for maintenance. There was a leak.”

A leak is not good. Especially in a pool on a rooftop. Hmm. “Well, how long will it be closed for?” I asked, feeling my poolside laptop bashing sessions withering away with my cocktail dreams.

“Until the afternoon after you leave,” he said, beaming his beautiful Balinese smile. “But we have a complimentary shuttle bus to the Waterbom,”

“The Waterbom?” I raised my eyebrows. “You mean, a waterpark with slides and children screaming, and drunks standing in wave pools waving Bintang bottles and having sex in inner tubes?”

Ok I didn’t say this out loud but I think Putu understood I was not best pleased at this compensation. In fact, calling a trip to the Waterbom compensation for not having access to a quiet rooftop swimming pool is like offering someone a tent in a field in New Jersey surrounded by milking cows, when they’ve paid for a serviced penthouse in Manhattan.

“I’m not sure I’ll be going there,” I told him, sadly.

He smiled again and shrugged. “I show you to room?”

I followed him across the lobby to the lifts, at which point we proceeded to head downwards into what I’m still pretty sure is the earth’s core. “Are there rooms down here?” I asked suspiciously, as we plummeted further and my forehead started to sweat.

He nodded enthusiastically. “They are the quiet ones,” he said, and winked.

I was slightly shocked, mostly because I’ve never been winked at in a lift but also because Putu seemed to have sized me up in a matter of minutes as the kind of person who might COMPLAIN if a pissed up bogan and his bladdered girlfriend decided to bang against my bedroom door at 4am. After all, I HAD declined the offer of a waterpark trip.

My room was a shoebox that smelled as though someone had died in it only hours before my arrival. I decided to deal with it, although seeing my wrinkled nose, Putu grabbed a can of air-freshener from out of nowhere and proceeded to scent the air with a faux bouquet of lilies. He winked again. Perhaps he believes the ads that promise these products offer long-lasting freshness. Perhaps he just thinks customers won’t mind that their rooms are full of damp and mildew, and that they won’t mind if their swimming pools don’t function, as long as they offer compensation like cans of air-freshener and trips to waterparks.

Whatever. I’m tired. I just want to sleep. Kuta’s not so bad… when you’re asleep.

Good to be back in Bali xxx