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Bali Bound

  • cazphillips2
  • Feb 2
  • 3 min read

Day one - Bali Bound

Well the day started off with the unsurprising announcement that we cocked up already.

Not visas or paperwork this time, so that’s a result, no, this time it was a bag.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, it’s us, we are doomed. This is a flashback to Thailand where we arrived but our luggage did not. Only this time it wasn’t lost luggage, it was left luggage. We stayed the night at our favourite Auckland hotel the night before our trip. So we could have a leisurely start and get to the airport easily for our mid morning flight. All of which we did. Until we clambered out of the car to find we were missing a bag. (I’m at the point now where I believe some sort of similar scenario will always occur.) Thankfully it was the Favourite Husband’s hand luggage and not anything more serious. Like my hand luggage. Also, thankfully, and because of my control freak OCD, I had both passports in my grubby little mitts. So all we were missing was his phone charger, asthma inhalers, Kindle, clean undies and a collective sense of humour. I blame Bournemouth. Bear with me. We got distracted watching Bournemouth demolish Nottingham Forest on some Premiership replays. I mean I’m talking goals of such exquisiteness that you do that strange, human, oohing and ahhing at the telly. Like fireworks, but indoors and without the noise. Anyway, back to the realisation that the Favourite Husband was stressed which was my moment to shine, so I dug deep and gave him a smooch and told him it didn’t matter. We’d buy a charger, buy a book and luckily he had extra inhalers in his suitcase. I was so proud of myself that I had two mimosas to celebrate. Of course the downside is he’s called me his mule 527 times and we’ve only just boarded. And call me old fashioned, but I’m  not confident that the word “mule” is one that should be vocalised in departure lounges. Not withstanding a “Moscow” prefix anyway. And if he tells me I could pass as a Sherpa one more time, well, I’m not sure he’ll make it to Bali.

(What you can’t do is go through passport and security control to departures and get said bag delivered. But that’s understandable.)

This trip was a bit of a special delight in that we were flying Business Class to Singapore. It didn’t prevent us from being delayed in our departure nor did it stop the usual stampede at boarding. Is it worth the extra compared to Premium Economy? Let us debate the ways …

Air NZ are pretty bloody awesome aside from the ground staff who, frankly, no longer care (post-COVID.) But inflight - faultless. So in recent months we’ve done long haul (anything over 8 hours in my tiny mind) economy with a sky couch, premium economy and business.

And my in-depth analysis, evenly considered, fool proof synopsis is … you do what’s affordable to you at the time of booking. By that I mean, they’re all pretty bloody good. They all have benefits and features and all is relevant. But also we all have budgets and restrictions and it is what it is. Yes the service and the food is simply exceptional in Business Class, but it’s really good in Premium Economy and the Sky Couch is fabulous value in Economy. So it simply depends what you want to, and can afford to, pay.

So then it was a quick transfer in Singapore for the short (2.5 hour) flight to Bali.

Now there’s quite a bit of paperwork for Bali. Which may vary depending on where you’re flying in from and I’m guessing your nationality. We needed tourist visas, customs declaration, health certificate and to pay a tourist levy. All of which I’d done prior because I’m a demonic planner. Well, that and I never want to be caught out without the right documents again. That said, some were a nightmare to download so I’d taken screenshots of various QR codes which worked well.

We’d organised a private taxi through our hotel as we knew we’d be knackered, dazed and confused by the time we touched down. So glad we did this for the half hour trip to our resort. Straight to bed awaiting tomorrow like a teenager waiting for a date.


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