MARK and Lisa had planned their Bali getaway meticulously. Adventure by day, romance by night—that was the dream. But as they soon found out, reality had its own itinerary.
The day started with watersports at Tanjung Benoa, where Mark, full of confidence (but very little coordination), insisted on trying flyboarding. “How hard can it be? It’s just like Iron Man!” he declared.
Two minutes later, he was less Iron Man, more flailing sea cucumber. Each attempt to rise above the water ended in a dramatic splash, much to Lisa’s amusement and the instructor’s growing concern.
“Maybe banana boat is more your style, boss,” the instructor suggested kindly. Defeated but determined, Mark agreed, only to find himself screaming like a toddler as the boat sent them airborne over the waves. Lisa, meanwhile, clung on effortlessly, laughing at Mark’s every terrified squeal.
After surviving the aquatic ordeal, they headed to Jimbaran Beach for a romantic sunset dinner. The ocean breeze, the golden horizon, the smell of grilled seafood—it was perfect. Until Mark decided to show off his knowledge of Balinese cuisine.
“Ah, I’ll have the grilled lobster,” he said, attempting to sound worldly.
“Sir, that’s the price per 100 grams,” the waiter gently informed him.
Mark, expecting a reasonable bill, waved off the warning. Moments later, a lobster the size of a small dog arrived at their table. Lisa’s eyes widened. Mark’s wallet trembled. The price? Let’s just say it rivaled their hotel stay.
Determined not to let a pricey crustacean ruin the night, Mark bravely dug in. Halfway through, he reached for a side of sambal matah, blissfully unaware of its spice level. One bite and his face turned redder than the sunset. Tears welled up. He gasped for air. Lisa, holding back laughter, calmly passed him coconut water as he dramatically fought for his life.
As the night ended, Mark sat back, stomach full, pride bruised. “So,” Lisa teased, “Iron Man in the morning, finance minister at dinner?”
Mark groaned, staring at the bill. “Next time, we split the lobster.”
And with that, their Bali holiday became legend—not for its romance, but for its unforgettable blunders.
The next morning, determined to redeem himself, Mark suggested they visit Ubud for a cultural experience.
“No water, no boats, no overpriced seafood,” he assured Lisa. They signed up for a traditional Balinese cooking class, envisioning a peaceful, enriching morning.
What they didn’t expect was the enthusiastic instructor, Pak Made, who insisted on “full participation.” Within minutes, Mark found himself grinding spices with a massive stone mortar, sweating profusely.
“This is harder than flyboarding!” he groaned. Meanwhile, Lisa expertly flipped satay skewers, earning approving nods from Pak Made.
Just as Mark started feeling competent, disaster struck. While attempting to flambé a wok full of spices, he misjudged the flame, sending a fiery burst into the air. The entire class ducked. Lisa’s laughter echoed through the kitchen as Mark stood frozen, eyebrows slightly singed.
Pak Made patted his shoulder. “Maybe you try chopping vegetables instead.”
Later that day, they decided to wind down at a luxury spa. “No risk of embarrassment here,” Mark reassured himself. But Bali had other plans.
Their chosen spa specialized in traditional mud baths, and they were soon covered from head to toe in thick, earthy paste. Lisa looked effortlessly serene. Mark, however, had an allergic reaction to the unfamiliar herbs. His skin tingled, then burned. He leaped out of the bath, flailing wildly. “It’s like sambal matah all over again!”
The spa staff rushed in with towels, while Lisa tried—and failed—not to laugh. By the time they left, Mark was pinker than a boiled lobster.
That evening, as they watched another breathtaking Bali sunset, Lisa smiled. “You know, despite everything, this has been the best vacation ever.”
Mark sighed. “Because you love me?”
Lisa smirked. “Because I have enough material to tease you for a lifetime.”
And with that, their Bali adventure became truly unforgettable. (*)
