Bali - Part II

Safely installed in a hotel near Kota beach, it was high time we began the surfing lessons. After some practise standing up on the roof of the Mercure hotel, we headed into the surf with our big orange soft-top boards (these give you more grip, and hurt less when they hit you on the head). We both enjoyed a modicum of beginners luck, riding at least two waves in each.

















The constant hawking around the beach, does become tiring – people even try and flog you shit while you're crossing the road with a surfboard on the way to the sea. So after two nights in Kuta we took an overpriced taxi to Ubud; bali's arts and craft centre. There's very little green belt between Kuta, Denpasar (the capital) and Ubud, but you know you're getting close when the road becomes lined with large wood carvings and 2m high stone statues of Ganesha.















Apart from hotels, there are only three types of establishments in Ubud – shops selling arts and crafts, good restaurants and spas. The pace of life is slower, and people don't follow you down the street trying to sell you things (although you still hear 'taxi' wherever you go). We spent four nights there, filling lazy days with spa treatments, rafting, walking, and (for Kirsten as least) shopping.














I think Kirsten got more out of the spa than me – the massage was good, but frankly I could've left the manicure. Ubud has a monkey forest, a smallish wooded area where large numbers of macaques are fed. They also flog bananas at the entrance, for you to feed to the monkeys. The result is they are aggressive even for macaques, and will jump on your head if you stay still for too long.














We returned to Kuta for our last two days in Bali, keen to fit in some more surfing practise. Having rented a couple of boards on the beach, we were horrified to see the water. It's really not overstating the fact to say it was full of rubbish (apparently, at this time of year it can get washed over from Java). Kirsten only managed to get waist deep before declaring no way. I decided to grin and bear it – it was truly surfing in a landfill. After two hours of limited success, I emerged stinking of rotten fish. My shorts and tee-shirt still stunk of fish after hours soaking in the sink (they are currently double-bagged in my rucksack). The next day it had all changed, and the only rubbish in the water was my surfing.



















They wouldn't let me on the New Zealand flight in Bali. Apparently you need a return flight to enter NZ. The check-in bloke claimed that the Kiwis had deported a couple of Dutch guys back to Bali for not having a return flight. I carefully explained that New Zealand was a British colony, and we have the same Queen, so there was no way they'd deport me (I'd been drinking). After much arguing I was allowed to check in to the first leg to Sydney. We then had to dash to the Qantas desk and buy a flight out of NZ before being allowed to check in to Auckland. Of course immigration in NZ didn't ask for the flight details, but they seem to deal with it by putting harsh penalties on the airlines. Anyway we made it.