Thirty Six Hours...

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Thirty Six aching hours of boats, ferries, tat-sellers, taxis, Bemos and a 'coach-full' fob-off in Bima by an angry ex-millitary man now in charge of a bus company that fired up our Italian's rage so much that the situation required poilce intervention.

Still, we made it back to Kuta; town of cheap beer, good food, dance clubs, beautiful bodies and ... Australians.

Tomorrow my tourist visa expires ... 3 days before I'm due to depart.

Technically I'll become an illegal immigrant or something like that. I must ring the British Consulate - it's on my ToDo list but life and motivation here are wonderously slow.

Mañana.

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25th July

Spent 2hours in the local hospital's A&E department after Nic managed to bite through his bottom lip whilst diving onto Mikey in the shallow end of our hostel's pool. It was lucky we had a Doctor on hand lazing in the sun just meters away. There was blood everywhere and when I asked Nic to show me, (cause I thought he'd just bitten his tongue), he pushed out his bottom lip, which separated into three distinct fleshy sections. Lovely.

Sorry I didn't manage to get a photo, but the 7 stiches were pretty gruesome although Nic didn't seem to mind, saying that it wasn't a holiday for him unless he ended up in hosiptal.

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