It's amazing how quickly you can adapt to luxury. We are nearing the end of our heavenly week-long stay at easily the most beautiful tropical villa I have ever seen. What was supposed to be an indulgent treat after our recent, hardcore, hot last month in Goa, has now rendered us somewhat spoiled and reluctant to turn down the star factor a couple of notches.
The other day, much like the Griswold's in Chevy Chases 'European Vacation', we decided 'Let's be pigs!' when deciding what kind of place to rent for our next few months in Bali.
So after a day spent perusing several options, our savvy 'estate agent' (ie. Balinese woman on bike hoping to hit her mates up for a monetary reward after bringing unsuspecting, naive Westerners in to rent their places for way above the market rate) showed us the last place on her list.
Of course it was the best. By far. And she knew it. In a three villa compound, with a shared swimming pool (right outside OUR place I might add - which might prove to be both a blessing and a curse when the other villas are tenanted), it is simple, all glass, very light, and most importantly, the two bedrooms are on either side of an open plan kitchen living space.
Whether this proves a great enough obstacle to discourage the monsters nightly journey from their bed into ours, remains to be seen. Potentially, the husband and I might actually get to sleep alone once in awhile. Imagine that.
We were so exhausted from a futile day of house hunting that we immediately decided to take the place. A few hours later at dinner we made the call and sealed the deal.
Which should have been great, except this morning, on the way to pay our deposit I happened to spot a new ad for a 'Spacious Bungalow' with pool, garden and 'American Style Kitchen.'
Over a latte I harangued the husband into dropping by 'just to see it' en route, arguing, "What harm can come of it?"
Well, a lot as it happens. We went, we saw, and I fell utterly in love the with huge, fully stocked American Style Kitchen complete with giant breakfast bar, comfy sofa's, chairs and a huge top of the line flat screen telly and dvd. And did I mention it had a pretty, private garden, huge gorgeous bathroom, shared pool and giant wooden desk from which to write our respective masterworks of literature and compose our musical masterpieces? Oh yeah, and don't forget the small matter of...AIR-CON!
I was ready to take it on the spot until the husband interjected, looking distinctly unimpressed.
"But there is only one bedroom!" he said, pointing out the obvious.
"Oh yeah" i said forlornly, brought down to earth with a formidable bang.
I suggested that given the place was so big, perhaps we could get a day bed and the boys could sleep on that? The husband remained unconvinced, imagining perhaps, our children relegated to a mattress on the floor like squatters for the next few months.
A furitive lemonade break followed, whereby we spent a good half hour with our pen and pad, making a list of pros and cons, whilst being harangued by an over-zealous waitress trying to flog us someone else's rental home and potentially line herself up for a job as our future nanny on an extravagent hourly sum.
In the end, we had a second look round, whereby we realised it wasn't quite as lovely as we had remembered it, yet acknowledged that it had a special authentic charm about it. And of course - the requisite two bedrooms. Though lacking air-con (and I know I'm so going to regret this), it is situated in the most beautiful scenic location, amongst rice paddy's. It feels not unlike a movie set.
Whether this movie set soon resembles 'Animal House' instead of 'Out of Africa' remains to be seen. Once the monsters have moved in and begun their habitual trashing and devaluation of the property, it is anyones guess.
But true to form, the husband and I, having already handed over a hefty deposit, are now hitting ourselves over the head about whether we made the right decision.
Strolling by a minute ago, the husband enquired as to what I was blogging about.
"This mess!" said I.
"And you think anyone reading this is going to feel the least bit sympathetic?" he asked incredulously.
He has a point.