“Beautiful daughter! Just like mother!” a gaggle of beauty salon women chorus. We blush and beam at their approval. Master 8 appears and we are brushed aside like yesterday’s religious offerings. “CUTE SON! CUTE SON!” they fuss and circle him adoringly.
Miss 10 is attacked from all sides by the braiding crew. Master 8 and I lounge and relax. Soon bored, master 8 has a little look around and reports back to me “some guy is getting a massage, but it’s ok, he has a towel covering his junk”. “Wonderful” I reply, and get up to assist with the braiding and expedite our exit.
The wine guy’s little guy is well and truly over shopping and master 8 sees an opportunity to escape. The boys all make an exit to the hotel and miss 10 and I hit the streets.
“So basically there are no traffic lights, just horns, whistles and flags” notes miss 10. “Think of it as mardi gras all year round” I reply.
The markets are the usual madness. Miss 10 is in a state of shock. I’m unsure what is shocking her the most – the relentless pestering, the T shirt profanity or the huge carved penises. Either way I’m enjoying this travel bonding moment with my daughter. We giggle, haggle and make our way through the Bali ‘mardi gras’ back to our hotel.