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A long day, from the 4 a.m. airport ride with the pretty busty blonde NZ radio star to the Sydney to Bali flight with the slightly annoying Somerset teen sitting to my left.
Arriving in Bali's Denpasar airport (which is not actually in Denpasar...) I was presented with a long, LONG, queue. One major flaw with the Visa on arrival idea... is that everyone else had exactly the same idea! First we had to queue to pay for the Visa, then we had to queue get the Visa, then Queue to get it stamped, then queue for customs and so on. A lot of queueing when all is said and done!
I decided that I wanted to head straight to Denpasar as while it has no night life or beach to speak of it is said to appeal more to locals than tourists - and this is what I was looking for. The taxi drivers outside the airport had a different idea - they all seemed to be affiliated with a different Kuta/Legian/Seminyak resort and were insistent that this was the only place in Bali worth going. I eventually found a driver who would take me to Denpasar, and
off we set.
Bali is filled with mopeds and small motorbikes. They weave in and out of traffic - overtaking and undertaking but barely ever looking before they do so. Some bikes carried just one passenger, but most did not. There were bikes carrying families of 4, bikes carrying bags of fruit higher, wider and surely a lot heavier than the driver, bikes carrying men with rifles pointed to the sky, and even bikes with miniskirted teens sat sidesaddle on the rear while the miniskirted driver concentrated half on the road and half on stopping her skirt from riding up.
The roadsides are filled with stalls selling food, drink and jars of petrol. Literally jars of petrol - one particular stall had empty absolut bottles. Good thing I didnt stumble across that one while out on the town! And of course, it goes without saying - the stall owners were all chainsmoking.
I eventually arrived at my losmaker, the Nakula Familar Inn. I was glad that I had not had to witness any Idonesian motorcyclists being dragged under the wheels of my taxi. The accomodation itself was basic - cold water ensuite bathroom, private balcony, large bed,
desk etc for about US$6 a night. Not too bad! Having settled in I headed out to begin exploring the town.
All the kerbs were frightingly high, and crossing the road means taking your life into your own hands. And everywhere you go the call of "Hello Mister". My first sight was the Pasar Baruna maker which sold a wide range of birds and small mamalls all kept in small bamboo cages. The smell was overwhelming, and it was quite a sad (if impressive) sight to see in the afternoon sun. Im not really sure what all the birds are used for, but I shall have to find out. I know cock fighting is big in Bali, but these birds were all far smaller.
Next after grabbing a plate of food (of which I have no idea of the names...) I went up to the Kereng night market which only opens after dark (with it being a night market). The goods on sale were mainly counterfeit designer clothing, watches and sunglasses mixed in with counterfeit CDs. One section had a lot of delicious looking food, and finally there were some motorbike wing mirror stands which could make anyone
look like they had driven straight off of the set of Quadrophenia.
I was pretty tired having been awake for about 23 hours at this stage, so I headed back to my hotel. On the way I was invited to sit and have a gritty, sweet strong coffee with a couple of Indonesian girls working a stall who were trying to practice their english, and we ended up having a long chat about how asians want paler skin and westerners want to be more tanned! I relucantly bade the two farewell, but was delayed again on the way back to the hotel by a group of lads sitting at the streetside playing Nirvana on a battered acoustic guitar. They invited me to sit down, and tried to get me to play (but I told them I couldn't). When they offered me a drink I thought it only polite to accept. The drink in question was Arak Bali, a spirit made from rice, palm or coconut leaves. Drinking it was not a pleasant experience, but I kept a brave face on!
When I finally got back to the hotel I was exhausted, but satisifed. I fell asleep before my
head hit the pillow, and I dreamt I was being chaced my a herd of stampeding mopeds.
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