Parcly Taxel: There were still a few grains of the fine volcanic sand from Seminyak Beach on my bed when I woke up against the weight of all the food from yesterday. I had already digested some of it and magically burned off the rest before brushing my teeth. Spindle was not at all affected, leaving a healthy dose of frost on my coat and genie mist.
 
Spindle: Crossing into Monday, the tourists outside were done with decadence, revealing the familiar side of Bali: locals on motorcycles (some without helmets), the odd curious tourist window-shopping, cigarette smoke billowing from the mouths of workers at rest. An endless cycle of building huge events over weeks or months, then tearing them down in mere hours, is symptomatic of the island; crowds swell and disperse in response. Yet the fundamental spirit was not gone.
 
Returning to the Treehouse Café for brunch, since it was already half past ten, Parcly had fried noodles alongside orange juice and black coffee – the last leaving quite a bitter aftertaste because too much powder had been dissolved. The local beer is Bintang, a Pilsner, signs for which can be found everywhere in this part of Bali, but she abstains from alcohol.
 
Parcly: On the other side of the hotel from where we had walked, as far away as the current bars and pubs, lies the memorial to a serious bombing in Bali that happened sixteen years ago, to which we made a short diversion. It is the deadliest bombing that has happened in Indonesia, with a majority of foreigners among the fatalities. Accordingly, there were a hoofful of other ponies around, pointing to the names of victims or taking photographs.
 
Spindle: Nothing much of our interest remained unexplored, so we kicked back swimming in the hotel’s rooftop pool. An amusing scene played out there when young workers descended under the poolside planks to fix a light without getting wet themselves.
 
Parcly: Aided by oceanic winds, kites flew serenely above the bustling streets, contrasting with the run-down exterior of the top of the neighbouring Sky Garden nightclub and maintenance right behind my position. The in-house restaurant and bar was devoid of ponies, as expected at this time of day, though it was still playing music from its speakers.
 
Nevertheless, the scene as a whole reeked artificial when compared to the seapony delight I lived out among sandy waters and cheap refreshments at the beach the day before. I did try Ocean Flow’s necklace here, but my tail kept on slapping the walls rather than making clean movements through the medium.
 
Terramar: Parcly loves the mountains more than the sea, so doesn’t have as much swimming experience with three limbs like Twilight (who brought out fillies to see me among others). She would prefer a visit to my father over my mother, but her aspirations reach beyond the atmosphere into astronomy and the workings of the universe, as her galaxy cutie mark signifies so clearly.
 
Spindle: The afternoon dragged on, sunlight diffusing over clouds. I passed the time by freezing ice cubes out of the water. Again, light meals replaced lunch, and just before we thought we were the only users of the pool for the day and were packing up, a bunch of smokers sauntered in.
 
Parcly: With the water done, we hit up the Smart Salon & Day Spa, where I ordered a one-hour back-of-the-body massage. The masseuse was at first busy with another client. She began my session in a dimly lit room by applying layers of oil on my back, then pressing and pinching my coat to softness. This was then extended to my neck and front hooves. I turned over, facing dreamcatchers, and received more of the same on the latter before it was concluded with a few head rubs. I was told to keep my wings shut – I can preen them myself of course – and they covered my horn when they got to the head.
 
Spindle: If that was a Balinese massage, a Balinese dinner was a good companion. For that we went to Poppies, one of the oldest restaurants in Bali with open-air tables, straw-covered roofs and other decorations of old. Against the twilight, with table lamps for illumination, Parcly had fish chowder soup and beef curry rice paired with garlic bread. Considering the “secret garden” feel of the place, entry and exit going through a single door, it was no wonder that it had won a number of local tourism awards.
 
Parcly: I probably regained the weight I lost in the morning with that dinner, but that was fine since it was my last night on the island. As I stared at a blank sheet of paper, Luna implanted a message from Ocean Flow into my mind, making me blush.
 
“I forgot to tell you that my necklace also allows you to transform into a hippogriff! Think of the wide-open skies, uninterrupted by clouds, maybe by rocky peaks. You know, my husband’s domain.”