Day 95
I have neglected to write of what I've been reading over the last few weeks. On the flight to Australia I read Laura Esquivel's "Like Water For Chocolate" - a yummy bit of South American Magic Realism - and I have just finished Julie Powell's "Julie and Julia" - an equally food-oriented book of New York angst. In between though I lazed my way through Choderlos de Laclos' "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" - a novel about a bunch of over-privileged French aristocrats. Understand then that it was this book and its images of decadent excess that formed the backdrop for my first view of our new accommodation - Villa Bendega.
Disclaimer: below will read like a giant boast. While of course it is, please realise that I am 95 days into a trip where a flushing toilet is considered a rare treat. Consequently I am liable to overflow with enthusiasm below. I beg your indulgence.
Occupying 3.5 square kilometers of land, set in almost an acre of landscaped tropical gardens lies our Versailles, our Buckingham Palace our venue for THE wedding of the year. Combining traditional Balinese architecture with a modern tropical twist, the complex is an explosion of luxury. So breathtaking is the place in scale and beauty it would made Simon Cowell blush, Kate and Will green with envy and Donald tear down Trump Towers in shame.
Driving down the long-approach road we pass the outer perimeter wall, flanked on each side by guard houses. One of the guards slides open the gate and a giant serene Buddha-fountain welcomes us in. The car drives around the fountain and stops at the porch-building where in Downton-Abbey-esque splendour the numerous villa-staff are lined up to greet us. Our mouths dragging along the floor we walk across the bridge linking the porch-building to the main house admiring the koi carp underneath. Before I know what is happening butlers are swarming round with welcome drinks and snacks on platters and footmen are ferrying out cases up to our rooms.
Entering through the main door we pass into a cavernous two-storey, galleried, open-air lounge room. Along the back wall lies an ancient canoe which has been topped with glass and transformed into a 6 meter long table. Collapsing on the 20-seater sofa we gaze out at the extensive gardens, laid out as a series of courtyards interspersed with koi-filled ponds and dotted with frangipani, oil palms, jasmic, yuccas and African tulip trees. Can all this (the size of a city block) we ours?
Dominating the gardens though is the whopping 11m x 11m infinity pool which fades seamlessly into the rice-paddies surrounding our villa.
To the right of the seating-area lies the East wing of the main house. Through the sliding glass doors you find the formal dining room, showcasing a massive five metre long wooden table seating 20 people. Through the door to the side is a professionally-equipped kitchen with all the utensils, crockery and space necessary for grandiose banqueting.
In the West wing of the main house lies the library and adjoining billiards room - yes, I'm living the Cluedo dream! Naturally I demolished the library and have been simultaneously reading about seven books.
Upstairs in the main house my mum has managed to win herself the entire East wing. She enjoys three balconies, a massive four-poster bed, a walk-in-wardrobe itself the size of a master bedroom, a study with the latest Apple desktop and a gargantuan bathroom centred around a sunken bath. I whereas 'share' the cavernous West wing of the house with Graham's mum, Graham's mum's friend and Graham's nephew. The shampoos in my bathroom are green tea and bergamot scented while the bodywash is ginger and lemon grass. When I walk down the street I'm shocked that strangers do not try to lick me, so good do I smell!
And all this is just the main house, which is only one of the six separate pavilions in our complex! On the one side of the pool lies what is effectively an entire extra villa where Graham's sister, brother-in-law and nieces live. On the other side of the pool is a large open-sided gazebo home to a huge L-shaped daybed, a bar and numerous beanbags. Behind the pool lie further sun-loungers and the lawn on which Sara and Graham will soon be getting married.
A separate pavilion contains our gym and spa. The highlight though is the attached garden which contains the most romantic bath I've ever seen. Carved from a single gargantuan piece of black granite, the bathtub lies sunken in a tranquil pond filled with koi carp. I'm going to order a candle-lit, rose-petal-strewn bath here on my final night to make up for all the sewer-showers of the previous few months.
Just when you think you have seen the whole complex you notice an inconspicuous wooden door. Behind this lies the de luxe marital villa; a romantic hideaway for Sara and Graham, containing its own pool, sunbathing area and rose-petal strewn outdoor bath. This alone is the size of our previous villa.
Finally there are several open-air bathrooms dotted around the complex for when we fancy an al-fresco alternative to our bedroom en-suites. (Note: they are surrounded by high walls, thus privacy remains)
The buildings are only the start of the wonders of Villa Bendega. The true luxury lies in the hordes of staff who provide for us an experience best described as a private five star hotel. While we haven't yet been able to count the total number, at a minimum there is the head butler Harsana, the four footmen, the full-time chef and his many kitchen assistants, our two chauffeurs, the gardeners and pool attendants, the spa staff and the security guards. They operate in a constant hive of activity, anticipating our needs, satisfying our whims and providing those special personal touches. Everything from the poolside cocktails and afternoon canapes to the delicately folded toilet paper and the flowers stuffed inside the pool towels is calibrated to our comfort. The Edwardian in me is very pleased that we now dress-up and eat breakfast, lunch and dinner round the gargantuan dining room table; with the footmen pulling out our seats, laying down our napkins and serving us from shoulder-height platters. You can almost sense the forces of custom pulling our conversation towards the Duke's recent gambling losses and the scurrilous rumours about Lady Cavendish's dalliance with her chauffeur.
The other highlight is the music system controlled by this one super-gadget. The house comes pre-loaded with about 20,000 tracks and this one console allows you to channel the music into any room of the house and of course the pool. My first afternoon here was spent supine on a lilo in the pool being lulled to sleep by Fat Freddy's Drop.
Finally, the villa brings with it membership of the Canggu Country Club; a gin-and-tonic-on-the-verandah style ex-pat colonial club. There really are few feelings as decadent as ringing for your chauffeur to come collect you from the fanned entrance lodge of your club.
Anyway, this long boast aside there is a story to continue. Shortly after arriving at the new villa my Dad flew in from England. When Dad heard that twelve of us were going to be sharing a villa he had images of cramped conditions, two hour queues for the bathroom and an utter scarcity of towels. Consequently, he chose to book himself into a nearby hotel. However, when that afternoon we took him to see our villa his first words were "Sodding Hell! What a bloody mistake I made".
Dad joined us for dinner that evening while we came to terms with our new celebrity lifestyle. Graham summed up the mood of the day when he described our previous villa that we had once thought paradise as a "hovel" compared to Bendega.
Day 96
Today the pre-wedding parties began with welcome drinks at the Potato Head Beach Club (see my previous posts). Once again my enjoyment of the cocktails, sun and beach was somewhat ruined by my sister's constant jibes that I looked like George Michael.
Anyway, tons of Sara and Graham's friends came and we swum and drank our way through to evening.
Day 97
Tonight was Graham's stag do. In honour of the fact Graham had recently lost some body hair for the wedding his friends decided to dress him up in a gorilla suit (akin to torture in the 30 degree night heat here) while they played the part of his colonial zoo keepers. A bunch of them went on a bar crawl.
My dad and I felt however that we should give the stag do a miss so as not to constrain Graham's fun - we are after all ambassadors of the bride. Instead, Dad and Mum took Sara and me out to Metis (one of Bali's best restaurants) for a celebratory dinner. Perusing the cocktail menu my mum ordered a 'Pink Squirrel', a delicious malibu, coconut and nutmeg combination. My dad however got a little confused and thought this was a main course, telling the waiter that he would love to eat some squirrel as well. Oh how we chuckled.
Following the amuse bouche of salmon pate we ordered three starters to share: (1) Courgette Flower Tempura (stuffed with either goats cheese and serano ham), (2) Yellow Fin Tuna Sashimi with Ginger Tempura and (3) Bambu Lobster Ravioli with Japanese Seaweed and a White Truffle Beurre Blanc. The winner here was the Courgette Flower - the crispy tempura batter giving way to an oozing, buttery-soft, floral! interior.
For the main course Mum and I both had a trio of local fish: (1) Black Bass with Mascarpone Risoni and Parsley Lemon Sauce, (2) Yellow Fin Tuna with Mediterranean Ragout and Basil Pesto Veloute and (3) Coral Trout Braised Fennel with Potato, Tomato Compote, Pine nuts and Saffron Veloute. The winner here was the Black Bass if only because this my first time tasting risoni (aka orzo) - a grain of pasta that pretends it is rice. The bride-to-be had a pumpkin and artichoke salad and my dad had a chicken dish.
I'm a desert boy at heart though and so was itching the whole meal to tuck "Le Moelleux" - a melted Caraibes chocolate fondant. Greg Wallace and John Torode would be very proud of the gooey explosion when I broke the cakey crust. My dad had the Salted Butter Caramel Millefeuille. It was my mum though that chose the winner with her trio of Creme Brulees. Beginning with the vanilla and raspberry one, we moved onto the unusual green tea one before climaxing with the utterly incredible ginger and lemongrass. The latter so far wins the crown as the single best taste of my trip.
Day 98
The stag do group got back in the early hours of this morning. Sara got a fright when she emerged from her bedroom to find the empty shell of a gorilla suit lying prostrate outside where Graham had disrobed a few hours before. Dad and I passed the morning shopping for wedding outfits for the following day (yes I leave these things to the last minute) and trying to find a suitably fragile champagne flute for Graham to smash at the end of the ceremony (a Jewish tradition variously interpreted as a sign that all joy is mixed with sorry, or to scare away bad demons or, my personal favourite, to signify the deflowering of the bride by the groom).
Then the girls went off to their hen night at Ku De Ta, a trendy beach restaurant and bar, while the 21st century guys (me included) struggled to look after all the children we had been left with.
(Sara's friend Louisa (on the left) came to pick up our contingent)
Graham (as is traditional) went to spent the night at one of his friends. Sara and Graham would now not see each other until she walks down the aisle tomorrow. I had to photo their last moment together as a single couple.
As this photo was being taken Sara was singing "I'm getting married in the morning ..."
No comments:
Post a Comment