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Published: June 24th 2008
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So travelling is meant to be a time when you rough it, well the Stones and me have suffered, I can assure you. We got a sense of comfort however from the moment that we entered the sleepy East coast town of Sanur. The lonely planet had described it as ‘Snoozy Sanur’ but as it was our gateway to a tropical island it would be home for a couple of nights. We arrived mid afternoon and as per usual headed for the beach to check out the sand, it is our habit to get to the beach ASAP so that we can get a feel for the place. Well Sanur is quite a posh place, nice bars and resorts on the front but everyone there is so old they are just waiting to die. It made Frank seem young, that is not easy as he has just passed 70 yrs old recently.
After a quick beverage and a look at the locals brushing the sand we headed off to look for the accommodation for the night. This process is made easier when you have a guide or when you have a clear price bracket. It is a three tier process
and the standard varies drastically. Upmarket will provide rose petals on the bed, room service at any hour and a drop pool that over looks the Indian Ocean. An intermediate style room would bring clean authentic style architecture in a well manicured garden with a varied selection of Indonesian cuisine. Then there was frugal Smith rates, we were lucky if we had a roof, wallpaper consisted of animal droppings and mossie nets doubled as the sieve to strain the super noodles. However we lucked in, we found a place called “Donna’s Homestay”. Donna was a man, don’t get that one confused (Stuart did, as soon as he opened with the introductory conversation), but his son and wife ran the place in his absence. His son was a mad “gooner” and would not stop shouting at me that he wanted to break Christiano Ronaldo’s legs - Don’t we all? Donna’s wife checked us after a bit of financial haggling with Smith, we promised not to tell the guys next door that we were paying less than them. It is a common practice over here, you never reveal your financial conquests. Not the same in the UK, eh Bruv (Still on for
the watch mate).
Settled in and unpacked we were out to explore, just like Sir Edmund but without the dogs. Sanur is slightly more manicured than most other Indo towns, to give a better description, it has all of its paving stones and only half the town smells as if something is rotting. We picked the good half and walked passed the resorts that back onto the beach. Every couple of steps you receive the traditional conversation from the hawkers. Each lady will come up to you and ask you your name, where you’re from and if you like it here etc. It reminded me of the tactics that Wheatley takes on the weekends but I hear that her success rate is much higher. After avoiding the stalls we stumbled along a nice little bar that was conveniently placed on the sand and under the stars. We thought that we would treat ourselves with a little tipple of “Bali Hai” and talk the night away, telling stories of the past and generally paying our respects to the people that we missed. Emma was talking for most of the night, for some weird reason I didn’t say much (if you
write then I will know that you are still alive people- you can tell who gets more emails can’t you).
The evening pressed on with several more beers and a quick fix of fried fodder. On our stumble home we retraced our steps from earlier, back along the beach, looking for our homestay. Now, there are massive injustices in this world that highlight social standings, difference of wealth and advancement of medical science. These can span across continents, colour and gender. It is common for arguments to rage between males and females with the latter traditionally winning usually with the art of silence (an art that must be inbuilt and learnt from a young age but definitely not when they are with their mates or if they have drunk white wine.) Men can argue about their lack of influence on the bathroom and women about the volume of sport on the telly. I however still think that the men tip the balance with the fact “men can pee standing up and women can’t”. Just take a moment gentlemen and bow to the crowd - “I thank you”. Now this fact was displayed when Emma was caught peeing by a
romancing couple on our way back the homestay, it was classic, both of us thirty somethings running off, giggling like schoolchildren.
Before we reached the road for our lodgings we were hit with the sound of bad live music and a rendition of “Hotel California”. It was if Powell’s had forgotten his musical scholarship as a child and gone to the dark side of popular music. It was terrible, after eight Bali Highs however it was a must. We stumbled over and into the outdoor lounge and rested at the bar. We were confronted by two other sacrificed songster fans, both fitting the bill for the requested Sanur age. One guy looked like adult movies were his form of employment and the other looked as he just liked adult movies. We struck up some conversation and dribbled our way through to closing time.
Waking up the next day we were immediately reminded of the night before with a great boom, boom, boom headache. We started with a couple of OJs and prepared ourselves for the day of planning. We knew that we wanted to get to an island called Nusa Lebongan, which sits off the coast of Bali.
So we got down to the dock of the bay, said hello to Otis, and researched the ferries across. Booked our tickets and then back to Donna’s. We had not met the illusive Donna yesterday but he was there today and assured us that he would look after our rental car and large backpacks while we were away. To be honest he was a great guy, he even gave us a lift in the morning to the ferry port. The rest of the day was spent soaking up the rays and dipping in and out of the sea. There was no surf in Sanur but it is meant to get good in the right conditions. After consuming two hamburgers in one day (Elvis would have been proud - “Thank you very much”), we were back to pack for the next leg of the journey. Sanur would not be a place that I would do a bush tucker trial to visit again but it was sure better than having a deadline for a presentation. Next stop the island.
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