Bali's Back in Town

We flew from Bangkok to Bali's Denpensar airport at an absurdly early time in the morning. Felt much worse due to an impromptu late night drinking session at a street bar, just outside our hotel on Rambutri Soi, with Tim, an expat money futures trader and the handsome Phillipe, a swiss ICOC worker (sort of like the Red Cross but more impartial). As Philippe was about to be shipped out to Iraq for a one year posting, it seemed in order that we should enjoy a good send off. As a telecommunications engineer, he has been in Darfur and Sudan for the last 2 years, with occasional forays into Somalia, Senegal and Gambia. His stories were incredible and I simply have to relay at least one of them.
He was in an ICOC marked landcruiser crossing the no man zone between North and South Sudan. There had been violent clashes and many people were killed. Part of their job was simply to bag up the bodies and make sure they are returned to the right villages. They needed to cross the zone with medical supplies to a nearby village where there were many injured people. With a local driver, Phillippe had his laptop and several large boxes of supplies. They were held up by armed bandits/mercenaries who wanted the vehicle. Phillippe jumped out with his driver, hands in the air, saying take the car, take the car, please we are just aid workers. He said it wasn't the first time it had happened so he knew the protocol was to simply hand over the vehicle with no resistance. He then explained they had medical supplies in the back and they needed to get them to this local village. The bandit leader then gave Phillippe and the driver a lift to this village with all their supplies, including his laptop. He even helped unload. He then gave Phillippe a metal bracelet and told him it was to protect him on his way. Then obviously, he took the car. But that touch of humanity amidst the chaos and killing, his stories were full of them and filled us with a warm hope despite the tragedy he's seen.
So with huge hangovers (in fact I think I was still drunk!) we flew south across the Gulf of Thailand and Java sea and landed on a much revived Bali. The last time we were here, it was so quiet and the desperation of locals was clear as they hounded us through Kuta, and when we travelled north past Ubud and on to Ganung Batur, there were simply no other tourists. It was like a ghost tourist town in places with empty guesthouses and there were certainly no fast boats to the Gili islands.
Exhausted after a 5 hour flight, carrying heavy bags in the sweaty heat, we wander around Poppies I and II looking for somewhere to stay. Everywhere that's a reasonable price and clean is full. We jump in a taxi and get him to take us up to Legian, the beach area further west from Kuta. Same story. In fact the one place we do find with rooms, where we have stayed once before, has clearly done no maintenance since then and looks more than tired. Plus it's 2 ½ times more in cost. In fact we start to find this is the case all over. The Aussies are back in town. The Bali bombers have been executed and it's clearly water under the bridge now as the streets are teeming with surfers and to our pleasant surprise, families. We find ourselves slumped over banana milkshakes in a cafe while we work out our next move. I think about the high end place of Nusa Dua about 15km from here and my friend Rita who likes to stay in places like this when she travels. All booked. Transfers pick you up and drop you. Right now, I wish myself in one of Nusa Dua's 5 star resorts.
Lee goes in search of a hotel and comes back slightly more hot and grumpy having tried 4 or 5 places without success. I remember it's bank holiday weekend at home and wondered if they have the same one's in Australia. I spot a motorbike taxi outside the cafe and ask him if he can help me find some accommodation. I take you nice place he says and worrying about his commission I tell him to just drive about and we can randomly stop. This is a terrible plan. We try 2 or 3 places and they're all scabby or full. Eventually he pleads with me to let him take me to nice place. Lots of families. His name is Ketut (all 4th born children in Bali are called Ketut by the way) and he tells me about his 6 children and growing up in Kuta. I know everywhere he says. I let him take me to the Kuta Puri Bungalows. Oh my, what an oasis of tranquillity and loveliness! So we whizz back to the cafe and Ketut sorts us a bemo to take us to our lovely new rooms.
Kuta Puri is at the beach end of Poppies I comprising of pretty Balinese bungalows and a bigger block of rooms with huge balconies set around beautifully cared for gardens and two gorgeous pools, a great restaurant and bar (cheapest happy hour in Kuta). There is even a traditional spa, and we all enjoy a well earned massage. The rooms are $60 per night including a free drink, massage and breakfast. Our one night stay turned into 3 nights but we told ourselves we'd be in beach huts and homestays from here on in, so a little luxury was most welcome.
Plus Tevo and Roisin decide it's time to catch some waves body boarding on Kuta. They have great fun, while I sunbathe and counted that a street hawker approaches me every 10-14 seconds. I employ my indian subcontinent head wobble to great effect. No need for eye contact. No talking. The unsaid message is read and understood. Btw I was reading a great book whilst soaking up the rays, Rohindra Mistry's A Fine Balance – just breathtaking!