The beautiful smiles are back! It's great to see you and your pearly whites once again, whether you be gapped, snaggled or otherwise I missed you one and all!
It was a real treat to return back Bali after feeling the pinch on both our wallets and waistlines from all the flamboyant eating out in Melbourne. But whilst the eating of course continued (with an instant rekindling of my former tempeh love-affair), this part of the trip thankfully revolved around so much more than food. If Melbourne constituted as the “Eat” part of our “Eat, Cray, Love" journey, then Bali was where our non-existent, best-selling novel centres in around the “Cray”. And for the millions of you reading this thinking I’m referring to crayons, or crayfish when I say the word “cray”, you are entirely mistaken (although I would be intrigued to see how an international adventure centred around either of those things could pan out). To be 100% clear, by “cray” I mean crazy, and essentially anything weird, wild and mention-in-my-blog worthy.
Yep, so it goes without saying that things got pretty cray in Bali, and I’m not just talking about the night we hopped on the back of complete strangers’ scooters with the promise of a secret beach party, or the ear candle waxing, or the the crazy-good 4-hand massage that we got for a mere €10. I’m also referring to the the skin-eating fish therapy, the RnB club with the giant skate bowl in the middle of it, the night I suddenly decided to chop off my hair, the bizarre Tibetan Bowl Meditation, the even more bizarre Valentines Day experience at that random mansion, and the time we got up at the ungodly hour of 2am to climb to the top of a volcano for sunrise and eat boiled eggs which had been cooked using the heat OF THE VOLCANO.
We gave ourselves 2 and a half weeks in Bali, a fair whack of time considering how small the island is. Whilst I have so many glorious and crazy memories from each place we visited (Ubud, Seminyak, Canggu, Amed, Gili T & Gili Air), I’m reminded that this is a blog not a seven-part autobiographical travel book so I’ll try to keep things snappy and confine it to only the best and most noteworthy mentions!..
People
If we were lacking in human interaction & experiences in Melbourne, we certainly made up for it in our travels around Bali! From cultural-hub Ubud, to chilled-out Canggu, and the supremely-Instagrammable Gili Islands, we met the most wonderful and truly unforgettable characters wherever we went. Here are some of my favs:
Firstly there was Rosa from the island of Gili T: a 60-something, eternally-smiley woman who owned a very basic burger shack on the main street but showed exemplary kindness to even the most obnoxious and aggressive drunken backpackers who came her way. We randomly found ourselves in Rosa's late one night and ended up spending more than 2hrs chatting with her; discussing the various trials and tribulations of life like we were filming some kind of "Ant & Dec-meets-Dr. Phil" Irish tv show. Btw, Rosa also makes a mean tofu burger.
Rosa-banter; the best banter going on Gili T
Then there was Jacky; a local lad from the nearby island of Lombok who had a chili-butter corn on the cob stall, and an endless supply of compliments. It was strange, neither myself nor Hayley had much previous interest in cobbed-corn before the trip, but all of a sudden we couldn't get enough of the stuff!..
J: “Ah ladies, you back again!! Wow. You so beautiful and independent.”
Us: Guffaw guffaw
“Oh jacky would ya shtop! None of your sweet talking now, we’re only here for the corn!!"
J: “Yes yes of course. My corn very good. But truly, you legs like long beaches, and you hair like shiny beetle’s back”
Us: Girly giggles
"Jacky stop it you sweet talker! People are listening!!”
J: "Oh, you no like my words? Ok I stop."
Looks forlorn
"More chilli butter?”
Us: Suddenly aware of potential threat to daily compliments
“Oh jesus no Jacky, forgodsake that’s just a saying, don’t actually stop!
...And yeah, don’t be slacking on the butter there either. A little bit more... Therrrrre we go.
Now sorry, what were you saying before we interrupted you before??"
Takes delicate nibble of corn and smiles sweetly, totally unaware of large yellow chunk lodged between two front teeth
Then there was the Muslim family we bumped into on their way back from the mosque one night on Gili Air. I thought the dad was going to berate us for our skimpy outfits (Gili Air is a predominantly Muslim island and they have signs around asking people to cover up), however in a very unexpected twist he only asked us where we were from. Once we said "Irelandia!" the whole family erupted in big smiles and laughter, with the dad busting out a shockingly-loud rendition of Westlife’s “I'm Flying Without Wings”, as the two daughters danced and shouted "Kian Egan! Kian Egan!!!” behind him. The whole thing took place in a narrow, quiet alleyway and was totally bewildering, but at the same time incredibly heart-warming!
Even thinking of the taxi driver who tried to charge us 100,000 IDR when we knew that the ride cost no more than 10,000 IDR now brings a smile to my face. This guy was some chancer and we knew it, but when we challenged him about the ridiculousness of the charge he got very angry and threatened to bring us to the police. We gladly agreed to this though because he was totally in the wrong, and what followed was a weird kind of game of chicken; the driver glaring at us as he backed the car out verrrrrry slowly, imploring us to relent, as we just stared back at him, unfazed and unblinking (Note to self: not blinking is the way to go in any threatening situation. There’s few things that make people more uncomfortable than an unblinking stranger in your personal space). After about 10 seconds of the slowest backing-out-of-a-car-park-space in history, the driver made a sudden transformation back to “happy jovial taxi man” and chuckled “Okay Okay I joke I joke! 10,000 is fine”.
Nice try bucko, these gals aren’t here to be sassed with.
Accommodation
When we went to the Gili Islands the fist place we stayed in was like the set of a murder scene in a low budget horror movie. I'm talking bare walls, sparodically dappled with creepy hand print smudges, no air conditioning (it was +37 degrees most days and there wasn't even a working fan. I'll admit that this was the closest I've ever felt to becoming actual human-tumpura), and to top it off the children's bed spreads, which may have been intended to bring colour to the room, just served to cement the general horror-movie-ness to the room.
Note to future travellers: when you get off the boat at the dock, do not accept the offers of approaching men to bring you to their “luxury hotel”. It sounds pretty self-explanatory when I put it like that, but honestly it’s easier said than done to succumb to these men’s reassuring toothy smiles and cheeky-chappy humour.
In contrast, we struck gold when we went out to Canggu (a surf town on the southern coast of Bali) and stayed at The Lay Day Hostel. This is a lovely little spot set up by 4 total "bros" who somehow keep the place running despite appearing to do nothing but sit around, smoke weed and drink beer all day. You think you’re chilled? Well I’m here to tell you you’re not. At least not when you compare yourself to this crew. They are so chilled that they not only let someone as uncoordinated and accident-prone as moi to rent a motorbike off them, but they actually waved me off with a nonchalant tip of their invisible gangster cap as I wobbled and jerked my way up the street, having received NO FORM OF INSTRUCTION OR MOTORCYCLE ADVICE WHATSOEVER.
It’s a miracle that I’ve lived to tell the tale, although any passengers of mine will attest that riding on my bike was not a pleasant experience. I had a tendency to become incredibly tense and I’m ashamed to admit that I would often blame any sudden brake jerks or wobbly turns on my passenger, shouting
“HOLD ON! YOU’RE NOT HOLDING ON TIGHT ENOUGH!! THAT’S WHY I CAN’T DRIVE AS GOOD AS I USUALLY WOULD!!”
..."as good as I usually would"?? Who was I kidding - I’m a terrible driver at the best of times.
And so, I’d like to take this opportunity to formally apologise to anyone who had the misfortune of being a passenger on my bike. Hayley Maher, I know you took a lot of the brunt.
Life Learnings from Bali
1. I feel the need to mention from the get-go that we foolishly did not consult Google Weather before booking our trip to Bali in February. This was a rookie mistake by all means because February falls within “Rain Season” there, and let it be known that in Bali when it rains it doesn’t even pour, it pummells down. If you ever consider going out here during rainy season I would highly recommend rethinking your wardrobe and, more specifically, leaving behind anything that looks like it might not withstand the force of a high-powered hose at close range. Although the gently sloping, luscious green rice paddy fields and postcard-worthy sunsets may cause you to think otherwise, this climate can be unforgiving, especially to those who scrimp out on a pair of halfprice Penneys pumps in the “HOT HOT HOT END OF SUMMER SALE!"
Life Learnings from Bali
1. I feel the need to mention from the get-go that we foolishly did not consult Google Weather before booking our trip to Bali in February. This was a rookie mistake by all means because February falls within “Rain Season” there, and let it be known that in Bali when it rains it doesn’t even pour, it pummells down. If you ever consider going out here during rainy season I would highly recommend rethinking your wardrobe and, more specifically, leaving behind anything that looks like it might not withstand the force of a high-powered hose at close range. Although the gently sloping, luscious green rice paddy fields and postcard-worthy sunsets may cause you to think otherwise, this climate can be unforgiving, especially to those who scrimp out on a pair of halfprice Penneys pumps in the “HOT HOT HOT END OF SUMMER SALE!"
2. This was my second time in Bali and wouldn’t you know, the dreaded Bali Belly struck again… Loyal "All Aboard The G Train" followers might recall the last time I suffered from this heinous tummy attack, but for those who didn’t read that initial post, let’s just say you get the detox of your life, free of charge!
However, and here cometh the words of wisdom; I would not advise verbalising your Bali Belly condition with just anyone, willy-nilly. You see I made the mistake of daintily telling a stranger in our Seminyak hostel how I would not be going out that night because I was suffering from The Bali Belly and in my head he’d simply assume that to mean I had an upset stomach and let that be that. This was not the case. Unfortunately I didn’t anticipate that the boy would subsequently get an image of me “shitting my brains out” (his words not mine) and go on to share said image with the rest of his buddies in the hostel common room...
So, to reiterate, my experience holds that boys don’t like it when you inadvertently tell them that you’ve got a bad case of the runs. *Ladies of the world* I cannot stress this enough: do not EVER mention ANYTHING that remotely associates yourself with/ on the toilet. It will only end in a plummeting sex appeal and street cred - both of which are pretty critical currency in the backpacking world.
So we’re clear, no mentioning the p#o word or the unforgiving “B B” condition. Don’t even think about it. No, you’re best off just keeping things safe and neutral, talk about the weather, or better still talk about how much you hate Crocs - everyone hates Crocs, you can’t go wrong!
Next blog post will be telling tales from our time in Vietnam. It features thefts, a 6hr motorcycle journey, and more condensed milk than I care to think about.