We had perfect weather, and it was really great to see my sister and the kids. And the diving was unbelievable. Check out these pix taken with my brother-in-law’s camera (mostly by him).

My colleagues all seemed to give me a bit of the silent treatment when I returned to the office on Monday, but Leilani was probably right when she said I might just be guilt-tripping.

I have to admit I was not happy about it. Ketut had planned a packed day of sightseeing for me, hours away from my hotel, and I suddenly felt forced to cancel that and pick D up at the airport at noon. I apoligised to Ketut, and we improvised a new plan. He took me to Sanur to watch the paragliders for an hour or so, then we made our way to the Denpasar airport.

After we picked D up and checked her into the hotel, I got over my mild disappointment, and we headed down to Jimbaran Bay for a fresh seafood lunch and a quiet seaside stroll. After that, Ketut took us to the beautiful cliff-top Ulu Watu temple and hooked us up with a crazy guide named Wayan. Wayan promised to fend off the monkeys there for us, which he did with an apparently magic little blue stone figurine. These monkeys that seemed to have no fear at all (there were camera parts, hair ties, handbag straps, etc. all over the place) would literally bolt at the site of this little blue figurine.

Here’s the view from Ulu Watu – sorry about the guy standing in the way:

After Ulu Watu temple, we headed to a resort called Blue Point – ten minutes away. An Australian couple had told me the pool there is the best place in the world to watch the sunset. We paid US $8.50 as outside guests, to cool off in an amazing pool that overhangs the Indian Ocean…

100s of motorbikes	a proud cock handler	another handler

Nyoman told me that something like 2 million Rupiah (about US $200) changes hands during a typical cockfight, through all the wagers that get made. I couldn’t really figure out how the betting process worked, but there were large sheets of paper on the ground in one building that seemed to list the fighting animals and their key stats. As a fight is about to get underway, the men start yelling all at once and waving money at each other – trying, I assume, to find a willing wagerer. You can hear some of it in this video (8 MB .mpg) I captured (Don’t worry, I stopped recording before the animals actually started fighting)

It’s all pretty dramatic, buoyed by lively, percussive music. But there is plenty of humour – some of it kind of phallic and naughty. At one point, for example, a monkey, dying, pinches his red-tipped tail between his legs, transforming it into a large erect penis. The men attacking him begin to sort of poke it and play with it, before cutting it off and ending the monkey’s life.

My room at the Puri Naga was pretty barebones but not without character. It had a nice little porch, and the hotel gardens and pool were really nice. At US $25 per night, I got more than my money’s worth. Here are some pix of the hotel gardens and beach…

The Lonely Planet Bali Book said some enticing things about the spa at the nearby Bali Mandira hotel, so I walked down the beach and made a walk-in appointment. The hotel was gorgeous but teeming with overweight, sunburnt aussies. Acres of rippling, sweaty, sunburnt flesh. The spa was a haven from this. For US $40, I got a delicious two-hour scrub and massage in an amazing stone-walled indoor-outdoor room…

On the recommendation of my friend Leilani, I arranged to have a guy named Ketut Ciri be my driver and guide for the two full days (Friday and Saturday) of my long weekend. As I had contacted him on very short notice, Ketut was booked, and so he sent his brother Nyoman in his place.

Nyoman, driving	Ketut, my bro

Nyoman began our relationship by apologising like crazy. He was sorry his brother couldn’t make it, sorry he was “stupid no English”, sorry he had a “very bad” car. I wanted to hug the guy, especially since I had begun our relationship 45 minutes late, after all my airport stupidity.

Nyoman led me to his car (a little Suzuki van, which was not that bad incidentally) and after I climbed in – accidentally almost slamming the door off its hinges – he asked me how I had gotten Ketut’s name. I told him about Leilani, and he about bounced through the roof. “Lelani!? Oh Leilani is very good kind, very smart!”

I knew then that I’d be well looked after.

Sure enough, Nyoman worked incredibly hard to make sure I saw as much of Bali as I could possibly see in a day, and when Ketut came to meet me the next morning for my Saturday program, he greeted me with a giant grin and a huge bear hug.

Thanks L.

For citizens of about a dozen countries – including the US – Bali has a visa on arrival policy, which means you can pay $20 US (that’s how it’s posted) for a 30-day tourist visa when you arrive at the airport. I stopped at the payment booth, and since I didn’t have any US dollars on me, I paid the fee in local currency – about 230,000 Rupiah. I was then ushered on to the far end of a long bank of immigration checkpoint windows.

I walked where I was directed, but I must have missed something, because I ended up in front of a whole group of people who had previously been behind me in the payment queue. I only realised this when I heard someone behind me grumble in an English accent about “queue-cutting Americans”. I’ve become aware that this is a somewhat common (and somewhat deserved) perception, and it’s something I don’t want to contribute to, so as soon as I realised I had made a mistake, I completely over-compensated and moved to a spot much much further back in the queue.

To make make matters more complicated, I had somehow misplaced my immigration card. I finally made it to the front of the queue and got my passport stamped, but instead of continuiing onward into Bali, I had to step out of the queue altogether, find a new immigration card and fill it out. The immigration official was thoughtful enought to tell me I could just come directly back to him when I was finished (meaning I could forego a second wait in the queue). Needless to say I was leery about that, given my initial experience.

When I saw how long the queue was, however, I pushed past my doubts and confidently strutted past everyone and waved my passport to the immigration official. He told me to go on ahead, and I heard the guy behind me (another Brit) ask the official, “what was that guy, secret service or something?”