Things That Rub Us Up The Wrong Way

As I type this Gusband is currently enjoying a 3 ½ hour spa treatment at his favourite Banlinese haunt, the Prana Spa. Not to be outdone in the spoilt brat department I decided I would book myself in for a massage in the hope that they could fix the sore back I gave myself from lying by the pool for the last 10 days. Really I should know better by now. I don’t like massages and I don’t like spas for a variety of reasons.

Firstly, why must I have a cup of warm water before a spa treatment? Even if they have stuck a slice of lemon in it. I have never come across a delicious tea experience at a spa and yet they continue to force it your throat. No gay sex jokes... I do not wish my relaxing spa treatment to begin with a feeling of nausea.

Then you are led to a changeroom to change into a pair of ill-fitting, uncomfortable and generally made of the flimsiest material “panties” that are apparently “one size fits all”.

Now don’t get me wrong, the Prana spa has the most professional staff you could ever come across. It’s all very discrete, one limb uncovered at a time while the treatment is happening and all that jazz.

No R & T’s here. I think that might only be in Thailand anyway but that’s another blog all together and I’d need to do some research.

I always find myself the complete opposite of relaxed when having a massage. I start thinking, “what if I need to go to the toilet” or “what happens if I fall asleep and snore, only to wake up with a start and kick the therapist in the face?” The poor therapist is trying to relax me and I’m more tense than when I walked in.

Maybe I need a different type of therapist….

I don’t even like to be sweaty, so what makes me think that I would like to be oily? Today I found myself wishing I hadn’t worn a fresh singlet because when the massage was over I would be getting it all greasy.  Because I’m not showering there because without a doubt if I did, there would be someone waiting for me at the end with another cup of frigging undrinkable tea. See I'm not relaxed at all!

It’s not all bad though. Gusband and I do love to go to a place called “Fabulously Feet” and let me tell you, it is FABULOUS! It’s only feet and while I don’t like the rest of me being touched I am so down with having my feet done. You can rub and scrub those puppies until the cows come home.

The treatment room @ Fabulously Feet

Lucy, do you remember the time in Thailand when the four of us went to have massages? Unbeknownst to us we would find ourselves lying on 4 mattresses right next to each other. No privacy at that little place. You had to get your boobs out which may have been mortifying to you but I guess if it has to be done, it may as well be done in front of 2 gay boys and your husband.

Convinced by his friends, Sawusband tries a facial on for size

So one day I may learn the difference between a “spa treatment” and a therapeutic massage but until then I will probably just keep copying Sawusband because he just comes back from these things so damn relaxed!

Until then campers, keep your Crisco covered hands to yourselves. xx


Lucy- The tea was the most relaxing part for me as i'm so ticklish.


Thanks for reminding me of the most unrelaxing massage in Thailand when I had to get the girls out in front of the gays (needless to say they will never be the same again).... After being led up a narrow staircase (scary enough) then having to share the room. Followed by being the most ticklish person in the massage area, but also having to get the girls out in front of everyone.... & you think you're not relaxed, you have another thing coming. Try holding in the giggles while getting your breasts out.


Great, I will definitely be having recurring nightmares again about that. It only took a good few months to get over it the first time.
At least we can take some solace in the fact that there was NO R & T's that day.

I think I would have been happier having Cosmos intravenously in Singapore!

Ahh, the Singapore sling, I can feel those massage thoughts slipping away.

But I must say Sawusband looks gorgeous and relaxed while having a facial. Too much fun.


Happy private massages campers. Xx

Hot Yoga Anyone?

Lucy – Bikram Yoga anyone?

Ouchh!!! That looks like it would hurt....

Yes it is true; I braved the hot yoga room for the first time, but more than that, I braved it on my own. It's 37deg of Hot, Hot,Hot! For anyone who knows me, I’m not the most courageous person. I don’t do group activities by myself. Yes I’m a real baby when it comes to a group environment. I would never join a club or take part in an activity without a sidekick.

So since Andrew is busy jet setting the globe, what’s a girl to do?

Ok I think we all know that apart from the 1200km that separate us, there is no way he would be involved in any activity doesn’t include drinking (alcohol) and would definitely say no to any form of exercise.

I did however have a few things up my sleeve to entice him to join me.

1:         It’s really like a sauna, the room is heated to 37deg (so quite relaxing)

2:         Men take part in this activity (very flexible men)

3:         People don’t wear a lot of clothing in the hot room

So basically Andrew you can lie around in a sauna watching half naked very flexible people bend over in front of you.

I think this ticks all the boxes to entice Andrew to join in. I just won’t tell him that after my first time in the hot room I am sooooo sore! Even the muscles in my neck hurt.

 I think it may take a while until I'm at this level

I have a 10 day pass & am determined to take my aching body back to the yoga sauna today to see if I can loosen up all the muscles that I had never before used until yesterday.

This is a move i'll be chasing

And this one as well.

So what do you say Andrew, care for Bikram Yoga?

Wish me luck campers Xx

Andrew - Bintang and soda? Are you mad? Everyone knows you don't drink beer with soda water... well you probably should, it might save Sawusband having to buy vodka duty free every time he comes home. Oh Bikram Yoga... right


I can see it now...

Maybe this is just in MY head

And on another note, you make me sound like some functioning alcoholic. (Ignore the fact that as I type this I am drinking one of the aforementioned Bintangs.) But we shouldn't joke about that.


I must agree with you about the group activities though. I've never been much of a joiner either as you well know. I'm beginning to wonder if it's because we like to be the centre of attention. Groups tend to dilute the focus on us and make us talk louder. And even in our little gang of four, the boys have been known to comment that we sometimes act like they're not there. I always thought they were there to provide us with something pretty to look at.


This is what happens when you let them have input... it's like teaching kids to speak.... once it's started you can never close that lid.


Although knowing my athletic prowess, if I was to come with you to yoga I would have no doubt I WOULD be the centre of attention but for all the wrong reasons. And as for talking louder, possibly that would not be great for the other punters trying to find their inner downward dog. Do I even have the right activity????

I am very proud of you my friend for getting yourself amongst the peeps and into some lycra action. So I shall support you from afar on this one. And to show my support, I'll have another drink and toast your new found flexibility, God knows Sawusband will be pleased.

Bottoms up darling... and yes that phrase works threefold......

Crime Fighting (eves-dropping) at it's best or worst...

Andrew – Gusband has always told me that I eves-drop too much. Well too much may be an overstatement since these days he says, “So what’s the story with this pair over here?” Turns out I’ve got a partner in eves-dropping crime, so look out!

It made me think today when we were lying at Ku De Ta by the beach with our cocktails and books in the sun (shade for me, I’m very delicate) how much I love watching people.

We creatures are an interesting bunch and if we ever stopped and thought about how the way we carry ourselves and the things that we do in public, might look to the outsider maybe we would behave a little differently. Or maybe not.

Getting distracted from my new book I began to look around and tried to imagine what peoples stories actually might be. Because I was so busy I issued directions to my partner in crime to photographically document the very important task at hand.

Starting with “Very Hot Bodied Guy and his Friend, Both with Faces Like Dropped Pies.” 

Clearly VHGBFBFLDP were into some sort of shady business deal, probably organized crime. No, we were not swayed by their casual demeanour and how they tried to throw us off the scent by taking a swim in the ocean and then casually rinsing the salt water off their glistening bodies… sorry I digress. It was their phones constantly ringing and getting up and moving away from the crowd to talk on them that really had me suspicious.

Or maybe they were just VHGBFBFLDP who thought it was bad manners to talk on their phones in a crowd. See not even you believe that!

Then there was the guy and his “man-friend” throwing a ball at each other on the beach. Clearly this is some kind of new training technique armies are implementing to try and get ahead of their enemies. Sneaking under the radar didn’t work so well for these 2 when they clocked an infant in the head and then got screamed at by the father. Under the radar…. Not so much.

Masquarding as bogans throwing shit around? I will not be fooled!

Not to mention the lady who’s husband didn’t like her breast implants and had them removed to please him. Bastard! Then he even made her walk along the beach topless with her tennis ball filled socks out just to prove a point.

And don’t even get me started on the man who is losing his kids in the divorce and was spending his last holiday with them. Seeing him sitting in the ocean with his baby while watching his other kids swim was truly heartbreaking.

Possibly his selfish wife was boozing it up at the bar, but I doubt it.

And as for those 2 homosexuals secretly taking photos and discussing blog ideas on their day-bed? Well you guessed it. They are 2 homosexuals secretly taking photos and discussing blog ideas on their day-bed?

We’re watching you…. *insert evil laugh here*

Lucy - I am glad you are  having so much fun.
Firstly I hope those "Dropped Pie" men don't read the blog.. or you'd better have your running shoes handy.
As for the tennis ball boobies, I think the correct term is "Rocks in Socks" & you're right, Bastard!

Now for the man with the kids. I think his wife told him she needed the toilet & is definitely at the bar boozing. I bet she returns an hour later, a little hammered, all the while stating how the Bali Belly has taken hold & she needs to sit inside (near the bar).

As I always say, never let a good story get in the way of the truth!!! I wonder what poor Bastard will be the focus of your next Bali stalking story. Look out holiday makers. The gays are watching.

Andrew - P.S - Let's not even think about what people say about us when we get together.... Something alongs the lines of "Look at those 2 fuck-wits carrying on...."

Lucy - Touche !

Maybe I should have been a travel agent

Andrew - And so after 10 years of coming to Bali, it turns out I’ve learnt something. Or some things as it turns out. And Gusband is scared.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am spoilt and pay very little attention. Gusband is the organiser in our relationship and I like to think of myself  as the easy to please travel companion. Which basically means that I have no idea where I am or what my options might even be.

So it has come as a surprise that I have found that not only do I know where I am this trip, but also I remember being in places we have visited before. It’s weird for all concerned.

Turns out I can say thankyou quite convincingly in Balinese… so much so that a taxi driver asked me if I spoke Indonesian. Ahh that would be no but terima kasih for asking.

A running joke in our relationship is how I can get lost in David Jones in Sydney (it is bloody confusing) so how the hell I have discovered I can give a taxi driver, in Seminyak, directions really boggles the mind.

May as well be the moon!

Lucy and Sawusband know how bad I am but I think that after 10 years of travelling with your travel agent they both expect me to still be shit at knowing where I am and what to do. I am but maybe I’m getting better.

So terima kasih for reading today, it’s dull and self -indulgent and really makes me just a little bit happy.

And even though I’m still not allowed to hold onto my own passport, P-Mac, when we come in November, turns out I can get us a cab, get us drinks, generally be fabulous and say thank you. So I think we are set. What colour sarong would you like?xx


Lucy - After 10 years of travel it is exceptional that you can navigate in Bali. It reminded me of my last 1 night visit in Sydney, you managed to pick me up from the airport & get us to the hotel without getting lost.

Totally knowing the direction of our hotel

We found the Opera house

Therefore I decree that Andrew Ryan is milking the fact he has no idea where he is. It has been a well thought out plan for the last ten years. In fact I think thats how he caught Gusband in his trap. The more needy you are the more he feels the need to look after you (good plan).


You should definitely be a travel agent. I can see it now:

 A Ryan, Marriage Celebrant / Travel agent / Bookshop owner.

You can marry couples. Organise there honeymoon & the books they will require before & after marriage 

(Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus)

I'm not sure what the Gay equivalent of that book is 

( Men are from Mars Lesbians are from Venus).

Oh & anyone who has Andrew set their itinerary, just make sure Gusband has final say. Sorry Drew it's one thing to find the airport but another to hold onto your own passport. 


Happy Navigating Campers Xx

We're Back... and it's not pretty

Warning! Snobby, pretentious and potential character assassinating post today. If you have a reasonably decent opinion of me please discontinue reading. If you already know I’m a snobby bastard, please see below.

Andrew – I know I am a very lucky middle aged man for so many reasons. Not the least of which is that Gusband is an exceptional travel agent and we get to do quite a bit of travel. So even though we were in Italy less than 7 weeks ago, I write this blog poolside in a sarong with a gin and tonic at my side.

Before I get too far ahead of myself I need you to know/remember how I came to be such a travel snob in the first place.

When Gusband was wooing me he pulled out all the stops. When we travelled we flew first class - business at the very least -and stayed in some AMAZING places. He took me around the world to see wonderous sights and somehow managed to convince me that this was how the regular person travelled. He introduced me to Bali and showed me that villas with private pools were the only way to go. If God had made us share a pool with fat people he would have made us poor.

Once he nabbed me he let me in on a little secret… we are poor…. That’s why God invented industry rates. And frequent flyer points!

And God invented Qantas Club

So now I feel it is my duty to talk about the economy. Not that economy, THE ECONOMY. The one that comes behind business class. Since we are having 2 trips to Bali this year, Gusband in his wisdom felt we should spread our love (and frequent flyer points) around and book 2 economy trips rather than 1 business class one. Not even premium economy! I of course, not wanting to sound like a spoiled child, say the appropriate things like, “I’m just grateful we are going away I don’t care how we get there.” Yeah right, I don’t even think Gusband buys this drivel after 10 years together. But seriously how bad could it be?

I remember flying economy to Bali with Lucy and Sawusband once and we somehow found ourselves sitting in very close vicinity to a child who screamed from Sydney to Denpasar and behind a man who passed wind like a mother f#*ker. I marched to where L & S were sitting and very loudly told them that I would “never be flying economy again!” To which I received looks from our fellow travelers that could have cut glass.

So this trip as we turned right instead of left as we boarded the plane I shuddered a little and then stiffened my shoulders and told myself to stop being such a brat.

A lot of people have different opinions of Bali but if we could fly the kids back and forth we would move here at the drop of a hat. The weather is fabulous, the people are beautiful and the food is to die for. Not literally.

Real estate options... seriously

Unfortunately it’s also the place bogans come. It’s cheap and there are definitely some seedy elements to it, should you go looking for them. A bit like home really. And how does the bogan travel I hear you ask? Jetstar economy.

And so it was that we found ourselves sardined with our fellow bogans. Our fellow bogans, who also decided that their kids were welcome. Not like the children we are used to ie. The refined child who knows how to behave… nope the bogan child who screams like it’s being murdered (note to self: stop entertaining the thought.)

So with alcohol not included, entertainment not included I settled (very loosely do I use the word) down with my book in front of the cool guy in front of me with shaved letters in his head and the fat lady who overhung in the aisle. And if your book wasn’t enough to keep you enthralled for 6 hours you could always watch the show of the bogan drinking his duty free and then swearing at the air hostess when she took it off him.

The Divine Miss Floss would never allow this.

Dinner on Jetstar

and this is the kind photo

As a side note is it just me who thinks that 60 is too old to be sporting dreadlocks?

So to recap… I’m a snob, it’s Gusband’s fault, children who aren’t full of mogadon will scream and there will always be bogans.

So when Gusband said to me mid-flight, “Premium economy on the way  home?” Of course I said, “Oh I don’t mind, I’m just grateful with whatever, I don’t care how we get there.”

Safe travels campers. xx




Lucy - I think we all will rejoice in the fact that you finally know what all us E flyers go through.....& my trip was a lot longer than six hours.....in E class, By myself. 
Actually I had resigned myself to the fact that it could be very bad & was ready for anything when the fairies smiled down on me & granted a relatively bogan free experience. 


Thank goodness you have 10 days to recuperate before you must board another flight, but fear not you will at least be turning left not right.


I definitely will be having all kinds of nightmares about that haircut....Bogan central!!

Xx