I’m sorry all. I know I haven’t written in a few weeks, and the complaints have been rolling in. One friend even got in touch to say that I’m taking the piss and just need to put pen to paper. Oops. I’ve neglected you all and for that I’m very sorry. How very selfish of me to enjoy my time away and not write my adventures down. I promise to do better from now on. To be honest I’m a little worried myself that I won’t be able to recall everything, so I might just have to fill in the gaps here and there with some fantasy- hope you are ok with that? 

So my last entry was my birthday – a magical day. What I’ve learnt about my time here (and life in general) is that you can’t replicate a perfect moment, day or even meal. Those chicken wings that tasted so good the first time, just weren’t quite as good when I had them again. Try and recreate a moment exactly and you always fall short. I am learning to enjoy a moment for what it is and to remember it fondly. Out here, as one gentleman I have since met has said “one day, is (just) one day” To elaborate on this, the day following my birthday was not quite so magical. We were all hungover and the mood was a lot more chilled. 

After a woman has had sex with a man, I believe, the dynamic often changes slightly. There is also a power shift, and as much as I’m all for female sexual liberation I’m very aware of the consequences. Perhaps I’m as my friend likes to call me just a bit of a “crank” but you start to becomes far more aware of your lover’s actions and behaviour towards you after sex, and whether they are still giving you the same level of interest etc. Oxcitocin, the bonding chemical that seems to effect us women more than it does men, to put it short, is a motherfucker.

My Dutch man still seemed really keen the next day, we hung out at the pool, kissed in the corridor- watched the sunset at the canyon whilst taking selfies. All good. 

But when we went out that night with a group of people for drinks, I was well aware of his flirtatious behaviour with other women and it annoyed me that I cared. The night turned out to be a bit of a disaster.  Mr Dutch and I had words (as I’m a crank) my girl Canada went missing, and then when I went looking for her with the other Dutch guy both of them were so drunk that I had to leave them clinging to the bathroom floor of our hotel room. What comes up must come down eh. 
The next morning I found out my Dutch guy was leaving to continue his motorbike tour and I told him that I wanted him to fuck me real good before he left. After my friend left for her bus he came up to my room telling me he didn’t have long as he had to set off. I opened the door in underwear and he kissed me grabbing my bum. We hastily made it to the bed and having stripped, he pulled my knickers aside, feeling how wet I already was he quickly slipped it in. He fucked me hard on my back before I mounted him and with both feet on the bed got in my morning squats on his dick. He loved his life. He then flipped me over on my front and fucked me hard from behind. The balcony door was open above the pool and as I started to make increasing noise, he hushed me as he fought not to cum. It was hard and fast and he felt amazing. I felt his breath on my neck and in my ear and loved the noise he made when he finally came. We said our goodbyes and I sat by the pool alone. Without my three companions the hotel felt so empty. I soon however made a new Swedish girl friend, and enjoyed my last couple of days in the north of Thailand shopping, eating good street food in Pai and loving my life ziplining through the forest with gibbon monkeys in Chaing Mai. 

Bali baby. Ubud. I landed in Bali and my hotel driver picked me up. Balinese Nigel of course! The humidity in Bali was a slap in the face and arriving at my amazing hotel in the pitch black the noises of the jungle greeted me. I couldn’t see a great deal as I was escorted to my room but the sounds were like something out of Jurassic park. Weird rustling in the bushes and animal noises I’ve never heard before that sounded like dinosaurs. I have since found out that a tiny lizard makes this weird high pitched sound but at the time it was pretty scary. I woke up in the morning to a wonderful view of the pool, a few metres from my door and had my breakfast delivered to my room. Life was good. 

Ubud is the cultural hub of Bali, or as some locals call it old Bali. It’s the place where you try not to get your sunglasses stolen at the monkey forest, can get a banging massage at a spa, get spiritual with some yoga classes, and even climb a live volcano for a 2am sunrise trek if you have the balls and the stamina. 

I spent a week in Ubud, trying to take in as much as possible; visiting temples, and the holy waters. The rice fields are beautiful there, and the waterfalls are stunning yet a bit dangerous. Clumsy me didn’t see the red flag area when swimming in the river underneath the waterfall, and as I swam into the current it took me with it. It all happened so fast, sweeping me over rocks which gave me bruises for days after. I tried to grab on to the side before it took me further down the river and some Balinese guy tried to grab me, as the fast water took my bikinis bottoms almost clean off. How embarrasing. I’m not sure what they were laughing at more, my stupidity or my bare arse as I tried to keep my bikini bottoms from flying down stream. Oh dear. There is always one right? 

Despite my good intentions to attend a yoga class I spent most of days when not sightseeing sat around my amazing swimming pool. Big up Jati cottage. I made a new girl friend called Rose who was from east London and should definitely be on the only way is Essex. My highlights in Ubud definitely had to be the sunrise volcano trek and the spa afternoon in the rainforest. A full body massage, body scrub, flower bath and facial only came to the equivalent of 26 quid. The room had two beds so me and new pal Rose had a pamper afternoon with a view of the rainforest and an outdoor shower. It was my first ever professional massage. I lay down on the bed naked, covered by a sheet, face down into the hole in the bed, as my masseuse poured a sweet smelling hot liquid into a bowl beneath my face. She started from my feet and continued upwards, massaging my calves and thighs. I have to say, I started to feel a little aroused, as she firmly rubbed my thighs and all of my body. When she turned me over and reached my thighs I felt her fingers brush my lady area ever so slightly. The tease. I have heard of men getting a happy ending, but what about women? As her fingers kept brushing my thighs and catching my knickers I felt myself getting wet. It was the most relaxed I had ever felt, yet I was extremely turned on. At that point my body was screaming to be touched, and if my small Balinese woman has touched me inapropriately I would have been all for it. I left my massage so relaxed, yet dying for sex. I had to go home and sext my Dutch man- who had finally returned to Amsterdam. I’m now kicking myself for not having a massage in Thailand. I absolutely love them. Perhaps I need to do an investigation into these happy endings – all for the sake of research of course!