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Not quite Bali, but just as welcome
Source: Inquirer
Author: Marco Diaz
Date: 2001-03-14
 
I’M a travel writer and with every faraway land and culture I visit, I am duty-bound to recount my experience. Now that it’s all over and the repercussions are hopefully not that great, I’ll tell the whole world of this great and utterly secret romantic vacation my girlfriend Monique and I had all planned out for the Christmas break. A year of plotting and planning was invested into this week-long getaway, which would see us living in the exotic hillside cabanas and powdery beaches of Bali.



Nobody would know we were leaving Manila (much less the country). We were two people simply dropping off the face of the planet.



All the bags were packed and we were running a bit late, only to find out that after going through an hour of infernal traffic, we had been bumped off the flight and would have to wait 12 hours for the next airplane to Indonesia. So, tempers flaring and with 43,200 seconds to go until we could finally leave for the vacation our relationship really needed, we had to figure out what to do until our flight the next day. We stumbled aimlessly around the Duty Free area before we chanced upon the stairwell leading to Club Manila, the Naia lounge where, for a little more than $10, we could have a half-day’s vacation that was awesome… but not quite Bali.



Stay



We were definitely not too eager to take the other option of carrying our bags home in the middle of the night and haggling with hoodlum taxi drivers wanting to extort us for the ride. So we paid the admission price to stay the night and make use of the lounge and its facilities. Starting the long wait by sitting in the classy lounge, we talked in front of a large aquarium filled with tropical fish while sipping exquisite Australian red wine. There is so much to say for the virtues of having a gorgeous and intelligent girlfriend. Intense conversations can last forever and during times of comfortable silence, you get the pleasure of simply falling for her eyes.



Slightly drunk and in need of sustenance, I wolfed down a large pepper steak and a bowl of chunky fries while Nique had a big serving of fish ’n’ chips with an order of Japanese gyoza on the side. We were on a mission. If we were entitled to an eat-and-drink-all-you-can bonanza, we were going to enjoy tonight with no holds barred. We were just two weirdoes with the pictures to prove it--eating, drinking and being merry at the airport lounge a few days before Christmas.



Massage



Wondering how we could further exploit the services of Club Manila, we proceeded to a large, dimly lit room where over a dozen masseuses were waiting to knead our muscles into submission. I totally lost myself in the bliss of the massage and could care less how Nique’s massage was going (by the moans emanating from her seat, I’m sure we were enjoying it to the same degree). From the feet, thighs, back, shoulders to my head, the two masseuses were focused on introducing me to a most addicting drug: an hour of muscle-jellying, reflexology-induced pleasure. During the massage, I noticed in one moment of enlightenment that the room and the women who worked within its confines were the antithesis of the medieval torture chambers. This room’s sole purpose was to relax, soothe and massage the victim’s muscles and bones into mellow capitulation.



Crawling back to the lounge with smiles stretching from ear to ear, we used the club’s business center to send bogus e-mail and faxes to friends and family just to make sure that nobody would come looking for us for at least a week. I’m pretty sure that businessmen actually work in this area, since the place was equipped with every communication device known to man, but at that moment, we were focused on tomorrow where we would be swimming in our cabinside eternity pool, staring out at the Balinese horizon. After our alibis over the Internet highway, we continued to the posh smoking room where we had a few drinks too many and half a dozen cigarettes more before turning in for the night.



Wake-up call



I entered the showers, took a quick bath and proceeded to my freezing cold room, a pint-sized version of a hotel room. Five hours later, a wake-up call at the door and with a hangover tingling our temples, we slung our backpacks on our shoulders and thought, "Wow, faced with the hassle of a missed flight and a 12-hour wait, we really made a smashing sensation out of a really bad situation!"



For the paltry price that Monique and I paid, we had a 12-hour stay at a lounge comparable to a five-star hotel discreetly hidden in the bosom of Naia’s Duty Free area. Now, if they could only fit in a jacuzzi, tennis court, an Olympic-size swimming pool and a glorious sunset, no one would have to leave the country at all.



You don’t really have to take a flight to all these exotic and far-off destinations like we did. You and your companion can relax and enjoy at anytime. This theory applies even if you two are just chilling out at home watching VCDs. It is this ability and comfort with each other that makes couples stick together until their golden anniversaries with the grandkids running rambunctious around your knees. Anyway, that’s what my grandfather used to say. As for this couple who got stranded at Naia, Nique and I still boarded the flight and went off to Bali for our awesome getaway.

 

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