VP Bali's classes are anything but boring. We never really teach without the new lesson being presented in the form of a game, but aside this creative learning process, kids enjoy a lot of special events almost on a weekly basis. This includes picnics with free food for everyone (a huge success, obviously); a Finnish day organized by two Finnish volunteers when we played only fun games from their homeland; a Halloween party; or a treasure hunt. And this way, we sort of established a Thursday Funday concept, when almost every Thursday, the whole school would not have a class but play games together.

This, of course, required a lot of planning from the side of volunteers, and would often be organized or thought of last minute. However, things don't run as smoothly in Bali as they do in Europe, and if you need some props or help from the staff, you need to arrange it in advance. Many times it would also lead to small hilarious misunderstandings and, consequently, to a serious need of improvisation.

We were also once invited to a wedding of a nephew of Komang, one of our staff members. (Since the wedding was partially paid for from our program fees, we didn't feel so awkward about crashing a party like that.) The bride and groom were beautiful; they were both dressed in colorful Balinese clothing and wore heavy flower crowns. Komang told us that they had to start assembling the crowns at 3 am and they could not be taken off until very late in the evening, making for a very heavy and painful thing to wear. (Since weddings are big in Bali, we also had to wear sarongs and lace tops, which, in the end, created a beautiful rainbow.)

Amazing farewells

Being sprinkled with confetti with Jess

Today it's an extremely warm day. The temperature has risen well above 30 degrees and the humidity is steadily around 95%, making even the slightest movement unbearable for me. It hasn't been even 5 minutes since I have taken a shower and I can already feel the sweat on my whole body. I lay on my bed under the fan, hoping to cool down a little bit. I am soon about to go to school. For the first time.

*

As a recent graduate at an important crossroads in life, I decided to postpone my further studies and take a semester off to just travel—before committing to the work-life soon. And the chicken that I am (mostly scared of being alone), I have agreed to a milder version of the backpacker life that I had previously imagined for myself—volunteering for two months and traveling with my boyfriend for another.

Bali has had an appeal to me for a long time; and I am not going to deny that Eat, Pray, Love had no influence whatsoever. While I did not intend to trace Julia's footsteps, I have discovered Ubud as a place of tranquility, spirituality, and yoga through the movie. And therefore, even though I did not at first want to volunteer as a teacher when I saw the program of VP Bali in Ubud, everything was becoming clearer.

*

After the hour-long Monday morning orientation and being filled with fresh enthusiasm, I feel more than ready for my first day at school. I have been assigned a school, classes, co-teacher; they have explained some basic cultural rules, provided teaching tips. Kimberley's (our boss's) passion for the job encouraged me even more. And thinking of it helped me stand up from the comfort of my own bed and the coolness of the fan above, and I walk out of my room to the common area outside to meet other volunteers. Close to 13:15 we all march outside the homestay to wait for our driver to be transported to school.

Like seven other volunteers (two of those new just as me), I will be teaching in a small village close to Ubud. We are picked up by a new 8-seat minivan and are soon leaving the center of Ubud. On that first drive to school, anything from traffic to the scenery seemed like from a different world. There were tons of cars and even more scooters, none of which seemed to be governed by any noticeable traffic rules. The road was lined with small shops offering clothes, souvenirs, food, hammocks, statues, glass and wooden vases, and a lot more.

After about half an hour ride, we arrive at a big football field, close to the entrance to a small but pretty building with a fountain and religious statues on school premises. And as soon as I step out of the car, I am not only overwhelmed by the pressing heat, but by the dozens of little happy angels running towards us, shouting, laughing, and giving us all hugs. They notice that I am a new teacher and want to know my name—and hilariously, each and every one of them manages to blurt the infamous phrase: "My name is?", waiting for me to answer.

As we get rid of the clingy little kids and make our way to the staff room, we meet Tutik, a local staff member who, together with our driver Wayan, helps us with anything school-related, such as translating the instructions of a new game or dealing with a crying kid. And as it turns out later, she is the real life-saver on many occasions (be it crying, hitting, behaving inappropriately, etc.). She immediately takes us on a tour around the campus, a small L-shaped building with 5 classrooms and an outside area.

Just like every volunteer, I have got two classes four times per week, from Monday to Thursday. And even though Bobbie, my co-teacher at that time who's been there for 6 weeks already and thus knows the kids quite well, has told me much about our students this morning, I could not have ever imagined this. As our first class starts, the 5-6 year-olds are running around, shouting, playing, not exactly ready to sit down and listen to a teacher. 

The kids are so adorable that I already feel my cheeks hurting from all the smiling, but as I try to ask the simplest questions in English and met only with confused faces, desperation overtakes me. Bobbie is rather calm. "It's okay. These kids don't even speak Bahasa [Bahasa Indonesia is the official language of instruction in Balinese schools, while Balinese is the commonly spoken language of the island]. We're more babysitters than English teachers." And so for the rest of the class, we only played an alphabet game and hide-and-seek.

I was sincerely hoping that the second class would be different. Our students there were around 10-12 years old and even though I did not expect their English level to be great, it should be a least, well, not non-existent. And so we fished our cups of ginger tea (that was waiting for us every day at the staff room during the 30-minute break between classes) and Bobbie took some books from the shelf to read with the kids. This is a good sign, I said to myself.

But as we entered the classroom, the kids were again running and screaming; full of life. We tried to calm them down and distributed the books, but the reading was more like mumbling some English-resembling words. We came a little closer to "teaching" this time, though it was still a big chaos. And while the little kids are very sensitive to losing, I could already see on my first day that the kids from my second class are best motivated through games where they can win—either beat their classmates or better, gain an actual reward.

And as this is a village school, most of the kids come from not so well-off families. Consequently, they have to help their parents after school—either with taking care of their siblings, helping with household duties, or some of them even helping make income for the family. The only time for some of these kids to actually be kids is during these English classes when they can be with their friends and learn through creative education, read play games.

For them, these English classes are also completely voluntary, and they attend them after already having spent their whole day (often starting at 6:30 am) at a regular school. It is therefore oftentimes stressed by VP Bali's management that volunteers make the classes as fun as possible to make sure the kids do not lose enthusiasm and continue coming.

A side-effect, of course, is the extremely slow pace at which the kids progress. My first class, for instance, had spent almost 3 months (each class lasts 75 minutes) only on the alphabet, and when I finally decided to move on to a new topic, much of the class was still clueless when it came to even the easiest spelling.

Playing outside with the kids

The one thing that helped me stay motivated even though I didn't see much progress in my kids, was that being surrounded by English-speaking people and getting used to that language is still a great help. For the students, our program is the only way to gain access to English education. And since stricter and faster learning would discourage students who wouldn't come anymore, perhaps there really isn't a better way to teach English than what we were doing.

Fun facts about the teaching experience:

During my first seven weeks of teaching, I had four co-teachers. (On my last week, I taught alone.) None of my co-teachers stayed longer for two weeks, and since the first week is always still a little bit shaky, most of the time I had to take care of the curriculum planning, take lead in the classroom, and do the diaries*.

*Diaries were non-arguably the most annoying part of the whole experience. Each teacher had to write a detailed summary of what they had done that particular day with the kids, preferably including some pictures and/or videos, and upload it to cloud. Even though it was supposed to be there to help future teachers to see what their students have already gone through, I know for a fact that most of the teachers never even looked at the past diaries. 

Our class size was constantly changing. Usually, our classes were already quite small (around 15 kids for usually two teachers), but in practice, a lot fewer kids would come. The kids would not really be missing classes because they were sick, but it depended on all sorts of factors: weather (rain, heat), ceremonies, helping their family at home, etc. Some cheeky kids would, of course, skip classes because they didn't feel like coming that day.

I almost gave up already on my first day, when I thought the heat would be too much for me. I was constantly sweating, and as I usually wear tank tops (yes, even in winter), I thought I would not survive the clothing covering my knees and shoulders. But later I got used to the constant flare up my nostrils from the hot air, and I realized that the stickiness and dark spots under armpits are signatures not only for me but also for other volunteers—and so I tried to ignore it. And later were not bothered by it anymore.

Photo courtesy of VP Bali

Bali has been often described as beautiful, peaceful, or unspoiled. And it most certainly is, but let's be honest—it can also be very weird. To a person having grown up in Europe, Balinese way of life can feature hilarious as well as horrifying habits and occurrences. Here is my list of things I have seen or experienced, compiled over the course of my two months in Bali.

Crazy traffic in Ubud

It is no secret that one of the reasons why I decided to volunteer with VP Bali was that the program was located in Ubud—a place of spirituality, art, and culture. Eager to combine my experience with healthy lifestyle and mindfulness, Ubud seemed like the best, and actually only, logical choice. And while the city did exceed my expectations in many aspects, it also surprised me in others. So what is living in this tiny Balinese city really like?

Rice fields just outside of Ubud

For me, Ubud is on the outside first and foremost a town of endless sensual stimuli. On a 5-minute walk down the main road you would smell aromatic spices creeping from local warungs (restaurants), burning oil from street food stalls, all sorts of rotten fruit local sellers offer at the market, scented sticks lit inside the traditional offerings (inconveniently placed everywhere on the path), wildly blooming flowers, the emissions from the often enormous traffic, and the garbage disappointingly thrown just on the floor. 

You would also hear locals shouting "Cheap price, good price!", trying to sell you their products, or "Taxi!" and "Motorbike?", offering transport services; you'd pick up English and various European languages being spoken everywhere by tourists; the loud traffic around you; birds chirping in the background.

On that same short walk, one would already see that colorfulness is one of the dominant features of Balinese nature, trade, architecture—of Balinese life. Colors are everywhere. Temples, which one can find almost on every corner, are lavishly decorated in colorful frills; the mesmerizing fauna and flora in themselves are a wild debauch of paint; the only stores with a color-themed window display are the designer western brands.

And you would not be mistaken for a second that this place, indeed, is somewhat foreign—ladies on the street carrying big, heavy baskets on their head (often while holding a baby), men transporting their whole food stalls on scooters, toddlers being driven on a motorbike without a helmet. And yet, life in Ubud could be surprisingly western. If you only tried a tiny bit.

Ubud has developed rapidly over the course of the last couple of decades and is now fully caters to any type of tourist. From low-budget backpackers to the richest of them all, options are vast. And you can enjoy many of them even if you do not have the resources to stay in a luxurious resort.

Only the access to the pool of Hanging Gardens Bali would set you back over a hundred euros

From all sorts of western restaurants to services like Apple store or eyelash extension salons, Ubud doesn't let you down. You never really have to try too hard to get your laptop fixed, grab your daily dose of Starbucks, buy a new Ralph Lauren polo, have your body waxed, find a modern, fully air-conditioned gym, get your laundry done, or, even better, get your nails and hair done, have agents take care of your visa extensions or real estate purchases... If Bali is 'Asia for beginners' (as Roel once said), then Ubud could just as well be 'Asia for complete beginners'.

(And still, you will find a hint of Balinese culture and religion everywhere, be it the little offerings placed in the corner of your yoga studio or the view of Balinese architecture in your gym. While Ubud offers western amenities, it often does so with an eastern touch.)

But Ubud is usually known as the Balinese capital of culture and spirituality, and it did not disappoint in that regard. The main roads may have been chaotic, loud, and dirty, but just several meters from the craziness, you could find serene places with yoga studios and healthy cafes. And while Eat, Pray, Love's portrayal of Ubud is widely inaccurate, for me, those places came closest to the peaceful and spiritual atmosphere Julia was after. And these are also the places that capture a key feature of the town's character.

The Ubud Palace

Monkey Forest

Jungle Fish with an infinity pool in the jungle

There's only so much information that you can find on pages that try to uncover the top hidden places in Bali. And even though such web pages often mention the hidden canyon in Sukawati, they don't tell you how hard a hike it is. Nor will they say it takes over three hours and requires preparation upfront.

*

We have traveled to many places in Bali already, but there are still many natural wonders that are worth visiting. And as usual, I'm the tour planner for today. My original plan was to go visit six beautiful places in central Bali, but after considering the time frame (i.e., one day), I became less optimistic. We reduced it to four, and together with Kezia (an Indonesian volunteer) and two Irish girls Lianne and Laura (my co-teacher), we were mentally ready for the trip.

What we didn't know, however, was how little prepared for the trip we were. Our first stop was a hidden canyon in Sukawati, an amazingly well-kept secret with an adequate name, and even though I read that sometimes you might need to go through waist-deep water, I didn't think the hike would be so wild. And thus we just took our bikinis, beach clothing, flip flops, cameras, and one dry bag for the whole group, thinking we would be fine as is. 

As we arrive at the entrance gate and purchase ridiculously cheap tickets, they tell us to leave our flip-flops there, as it can get slippery down there. I didn't think much of it and expected the path through the canyon to be suitable for bare feet. We also leave our clothing behind and start our hike in bikinis and one bag. We descend a long concrete staircase and I'm being hopeful that the whole way may be paved similarly. But as soon as the staircase ends, we find ourselves in true wilderness, with steep cliffs around us, rocky shores, and a wild river with strong currents. The water is muddy and wild because of the raging thunderstorm the previous day, and even though we didn't even start the hike properly, it already comes to our thighs.

We haven't even started the hike properly, and it's already quite painful. We climb the slippery rocks, plow through mud and walk on small itchy grains of sand - and, primarily, conquer the strong stream in the river through sharp rocks at the bottom. "Dana, what have you gotten us into?" I hear one of the girls say laughingly behind me, and I am sure she is trying to mask the slight anger and fear in her voice.

Painful steps aside, the hike itself is not the easiest. Already right at the beginning, I managed to get myself into a little accident. As I try to climb a big rock surrounded by the river, I feel my hands slipping and I slide off the rock, falling right into the brown river in an unsightly water bomb. The guide hurried to rescue me, but I was just laughing at my clumsiness and was already climbing from the water like nothing happened.

Regaining my peace at Canyon II

The Sukawati canyon is divided into three parts - simply called Canyon I, II, and III - and we get to the first one in less than an hour. It's not only time to take pictures, but to make a decision whether to climb the hill and end our tour on the viewing point or to continue to Canyons II and III and thus make the whole loop. Still enthusiastic, the group unanimously decides to go forward.

A little moment of relief after reaching the Canyon II

After we take three million photos on all our phones and cameras, the guide tells us that Canyon III is just around the corner. Tired from the hike already, the whole group cheers – an enthusiasm that disappeared soon after. 

We are standing in front of a two-meter tall cliff on one of the river banks. It has a very smooth surface, with little to no cracks to hold on to when you're climbing. Like it is no big deal, the guide makes three quick movements and is already at the top. 

"No way, I'm not doing this," I say to the guide, who's just laughing. Questioning my whole life at this point, I tried to catch the last straw. "Can we go through there instead?" I pointed to the little stream of the river which surrounds the cliff and leads to the Canyon III. "He says it's too deep and the current is strong," Kezia, our hero for today, who has been translating the whole time, says with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

The guide keeps extending his arm down towards me with a smile. The cliff is so high that I can barely reach his hand, and I am sure there is no way I can climb it. But at this point there is nothing else to do, so I take his hand, trying to cooperate, but deep down knowing I will never manage to climb this cliff. I put my feet to the places he tells me and I am still unsure where to hold on to with my other hand. I feel him pull me a little and I expect him to fall down from up there due to the weight of my body, but I don't even realize how and I am standing next to him on the cliff.

I was totally confused about what just happened. Just to paint an image, our guide, like most of Indonesian men, was really short and generally quite skinny.  But he got some real power in his as I watched him pull up all of the other girls without any real help from the bunch. At this point, the fear I had seemed to have been for nothing; the scariest moment of the hike turned out to be pretty painless.

And so we got to the last canyon. We left the wild river behind and got into a rainforest with a nice forest trail. Finally, the path is soft, and the wet soil of the rain forest soothes our feet. As we progress, long vertical tree roots extending down from a couple-meters-tall hill appear before us. The guide starts climbing the roots and we realize it's a fun picture spot, and take turns jumping on the roots like monkeys. When we thought that the difficult part of the tour is over, we were in for another surprise.

So far, we have always had to walk in the shadows of the canyon or the forest, but in order to get back to our car, we had to walk through some fields with a little concrete path in the middle of them. It was 1 pm, the sun was shining strongly, and remember – we were barefoot. Walking on the field itself was not much better, since not only was the soil almost just as hot as the concrete but stepping on the dead roots was extremely painful too.

Walking on the concrete was the most painful thing of the day. Our bare feet felt more and more burnt with each step, and as we screamed in pain, our guide just laughed at us. Kezia, the Indonesian volunteer, who we thought might also be used to the heat and feel no discomfort just like the guide, told to us annoyingly that she, too, is a "city girl" just like us, and joined the screams.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ooooouuuuch..."

We screamed continuously. Each one of us became very nifty and tried to alleviate their pain differently. I tried to carefully walk on the soil; Lianne was trying to make shoes from leaves; and Kezia decided to run on the hot concrete as if her life was at stake – only to jump to the field every now and then to cool her feet in the tiny shadow cast by the extremely sparse almost-withered plants. 

Finally, we arrived at the parking lot, sat down and lifted our feet in relief. We ordered fresh coconuts as a reward, while our guide was getting our shoes from the entrance where we left them. The feeling of being seated with our feet off the floor was absolutely priceless.

* 

It was already 3 pm when we arrived at the second spot – so much for my impeccable planning. Tekad Cepung waterfall is a rather unique place. The waterfall is located inside a tall cave with shallow water. We again had to climb down some big rocks, but after our adventure this morning – and with our shoes on this time – the hike felt really easy. And despite my quixotic battle with little drops constantly being sprayed on my camera from the waterfall, I managed to take some nice shots.

Tekad Cepung Waterfall

The rest of the day could very well be described as a fiasco. We never found the green cliffs in the waterfall's vicinity that I had originally planned on our itinerary. The beautiful rainbow canyon that I saw online had been closed already for several years. And the waterfall that we planned to see as the last point of the trip didn't exist anymore, as the government had reversed the flow of the water for sewage regulation, as explained by a local man from the area. So when we finally managed to find the entrance to the waterfall (after first being lost and worrying about the sun going down), climbed all the way down, and searched for it there, we could only laugh at our 'luck'.

Padangbai

I woke up in the middle of the night to a strange, extremely loud sound. It is completely dark and otherwise quiet, and this sound is piercing through the air like in a nightmare. I have no idea what it is, but it definitely sounds like an animal. At this state, half-sleeping and terrified, my brilliant mind thinks of the worst scenarios and petrified to the bone, I lie in my bed without a single movement, barely breathing, so that the animal won't attack me. I want to record the sound so that I could later find out what it was, but I'm too scared the light from my phone's display might attract the monster. So I just lie there, staring into the darkness, praying for the best.

I have the worst nightmares. I'm dreaming that the animal in my room is a monkey and it's attacking me. I wake up again to that terrible sound, but now it's coming from a different place. I fall asleep again, and this time I dream that the animal is a snake, and the sound is coming from an animal it has killed and is now processing. I soon awoke again to that creepy sound...

✦

I planned to have a nice quiet weekend at the beach. I felt like after several weeks in Ubud, I needed to relax, unhindered by any group plans and any complaints. Padangbai sounded like a perfect idea, and I booked a hostel in there without hesitation.

But as it is quite common in here at VP Bali, where one person goes, everyone goes. And thus I was told that also Haley is going there, Maiju, Anna, and Viivi are going there, Lee is going there, and Kelly and Fiona are going there – all separately. It made sense for me to then join Anna on the scooter, and on Friday morning, after my terrible night, we set off and I am looking forward to that nice quiet evening. Without any geckos this time hopefully, as it turned out that the monster attacking me was nothing worse than a bigger-than-average gecko, basically a harmless animal.

Balinese gecko, our new house pet

Driving a scooter is considerably cheaper and perhaps also more fun but it's also extremely dangerous. I'm no stranger to Anna's driving, yet I am unpleasantly surprised to see that she's driving 90 km/hour on the highway. Trying not to think of all the possible ways of how we could die, I try to shift my attention to the strong wind that is whipping my bare shins and making my eyes tear even though I wear sunglasses. The drive takes over 1.5 hours, and every time we see a policeman, we are praying not to be stopped.

We arrive at Padangbai and I leave the girls and head to my hostel. My first experience being in a dorm room – and already with nine other people of both genders. Coincidentally (or not), most of them of Dutch origin. I go to the Blue Lagoon on Friday and I see an absolutely beautiful white sand beach with not so many tourists. The waves are quite strong though, and the rocky bottom and shallow waters make it impossible to swim. You go into the water and are immediately swung back to the shore by a wave.

Blue Lagoon beach

I rented snorkeling equipment but in the end, I didn't use it. At first, I was scared to leave my camera and phone on the beach while I snorkel, and later, when the girls came, the waves were much, much higher, making it impossible and very dangerous to snorkel. But I did go into the water for a little bit, and it was nice to finally swim.

Later I decided to go see some nearby temples, but not only were they underwhelming compared to the Balinese beauties I was used to at this point, but also I haven't dressed appropriately for visitations to religious shrines and felt very uncomfortable walking around in my shorts.

I woke up early on Saturday and decided to go to the other beach, Bias Tugel, also called the Secret beach. The way there is through some hills and green scenery along the way. In the end, I met a confused tourist on a scooter who was asking me where the beach was. "Just look at the signs," I pointed right behind him, where there was a huge sign saying 'Bias Tugel' with an arrow pointing to the left. He ended up taking me on his scooter and I didn't have to walk the hills anymore.

Bias Tugel beach in the morning

Luis turned out to be a really nice guy. We put our things together, rented sunbeds next to each other, and talked pretty much the whole time. We went swimming at the same time, we had coffee and then lunch together, and we also left the beach together. He was taking me to Candidasa, a nearby town where I wanted to go for a long time, and where he currently resided.

Wavy Bias Tugel in the afternoon

Currently as a self-described "PA to a rich guy," Luis had all the freedom in the world, only arranging small things that didn't take up much of his time and yet helped him earn an admirable living. He retired from his very well-paid job in Spain and decided to come live in Bali for several months. You could very well see it. He lived in a beautiful house with a big pool and a separate pool house, which seemed like a dream for a budget backpacker like me.

Luis' pool

Candidasa beach

As we were sitting at a nice beachfront resort and drinking smoothies, he told me about his attempts at getting closer to the locals. He made one friend so far. One time he wanted to get beer for cheap, but the tourists never get the local price. He asked a local guy chilling on the beach with his friends to get him some beers, and gave him 100,000 rupiahs. He didn't have any assurance that the guy wouldn't just run away with the money – he could only have trust in him.

And so the guy came a little later with a big six-pack of beers, and Luis shared all of those with them. And so was set the tone of their friendship – them having fun together on the basis that Luis buys something for him. The same has been my experience with the Balinese, and of any other foreigner that I knew in this land.

The Balinese, of course, don't have so much money, and even the young people have a very different life here than the non-Balinese. And all the things that we see as fun here (going out, sightseeing, traveling, eating at a nice restaurant) are for most of our peers here unattainable.

Beach resort in Candidasa

Having drinks at the beach

Luis then drove me home at the end of the day, and I gave him my number so that we can stay in touch and I meet him for ring shopping in Ubud, as he was soon to propose to his girlfriend. But being so 'international' recently, with changing numbers every couple of months, I gave him my old number. And even though I knew where he lived, I couldn't figure out his contact information. And so the ring shopping morning never happened.

But after these two days I felt like I was done with Padang Bai, and as Nouschka had a free day on Sunday, we decided to meet in Kuta. I woke up early on Sunday and made my way to the shuttle minivan waiting for me in the morning. And luckily for me, I was the only one in it.

What that meant, however, was that I was in Kuta much earlier than what I expected, and I still had a good half hour before Nouschka – who was, of course, late because of the confused taxi driver – would arrive.

Kuta beach

I walked the good 15 minutes to the beach from the drop-off place and found that the beach is not exactly what I would usually see as a beach. The Kuta beach was a coast kilometers-long and tens-of-meters-wide, with shallow water as far as you can see, as I later found out. The sea had a really shallow entrance and tons of little waves approaching the shore from far. You could basically swim or chill in the water for 10 seconds and then turn your back to the sea in anticipation of a wave. Sometimes the wave was so strong that you had to dive under it not to be completely washed away.

Kuta is primarily a touristic place for people who prefer parties and surfing and don't mind the unbearably bad beach for swimming, crowds, crime, drunk tourists, and expensive food or accommodation. It's a truly weird place. It's filled with buffed macho (most likely Australian) men on holiday, half-naked girls looking for a holiday flirt, and quite good looking local surfer instructors who are more than happy to supply that temporary love.

The place itself is one big conjunction of souvenir stalls with ridiculously overpriced things, Western fast food chains, and party venues on every corner. It also feels like Kuta has no rules. On one street you'll find two currency exchange shops only three meters apart offering the best and the worst exchange rate I've seen in the whole of Bali – 15,099 and 14,000 rupiahs for a euro.

Bali has never felt as unfamiliar as it did in Kuta. All the wonders that it has to offer and that are advertised everywhere – white sand beaches, relaxing atmosphere, beautiful scenery, and nice people, or in one word, paradise – have been completely lost in the midst of the tourist occupation.

The crowds in Kuta immediately struck me as a different species that I can't really understand. Flocks of tourists strolling on the beach, asking me if they can take a selfie with me – I guess because I was so white and European – didn't bother me at first. After all, I take pictures of the locals too. But after being stopped by a group of males, then a group of Asian middle-aged ladies, and finally a group of teenager Indonesian girls (all happening right after each other), I felt like a monkey in a zoo and was pretty much done with it. Apparently, in Kuta, it is normal to make a person feel like they are an attraction, and after they refuse to take a selfie with you, it's okay to start laughing hysterically at them.

And as I'm done with the random groups of Asians asking for a selfie, I sit down next to a guy with a portable refrigerator and buy a Sprite, after bargaining the price down from ridiculous 20,000 rupiahs (1,4 euros) for a small bottle. And immediately he starts hitting on me and telling me all sorts of weird things, and I'm praying for Nouschka to rescue me soon. As I stand up and tell him she's here, he follows me conspicuously to see whether I was really meeting someone and not lying to him. And so I meet with Nous, and can finally forget this abomination of a place.

Gado Gado

Our day was finally really nice, first having a really good coffee at the shopping mall with all the western clothing brands you can imagine – of course, priced correspondingly – and then having quite an expensive lunch (compared to those that I'm used to in Ubud). But all in all, we had a gezellig time together.