Day 2/ Night 3
I haven't been on the beach here yet, so Mum's partner and I go for a 9am walk from behind the Oberoi onto the sand. The sun is beating down but I'm protected with loads of sunscreen and shirt, so am not too worried. A short walk after breakfast, I think, will clear the head and show me more of the area. An hour later later, we are still heading north west and have just crossed the 2nd of two waist-deep river inlets. My brand new digi cam is wet (f@#k it!), wallet soaked and all my clothing wet as well. Yes, my step father is a silly tool - this is typical of his "it won't be difficult" speeches, where I always end up hanging by my toenails somewhere over a ravine. Having got dunked, and removing clothing in parts along the way, a nice sunburn is also spreading over me. We travel through Canggu, and eventually further north to Echo Beach. A quick mixed juice at the cafe, and wisely, a return journey is immediately planned. More sunburn, this time it's the front of my body's turn. Even stevens.
Though I'm loathe to do any more shopping in any area that even begins with the letter S, my step-father needs a book and some DVD's, so we cruise the local strip. This time of year, I'm told, its a virtual ghost town and so it proves - you could shoot a gun down here and only hit the odd tattooed German motorcyclist. I grab some Barney DVD's for my 2 year old son back home, and Kate Beckinsale's new one - I could watch her sing a shopping list. The sun is out in force and everyone is saying they haven't seen weather like this in more than a month. Good omens.
We go out for a late-afternoon snack and chat at the Bali Art Cafe, around the corner from the villa. Simple unpretentious fare, in a quiet garden setting beside a large pond. I'd feel completely at ease here if it wasn't for the incessant arguing of my parents, who find ways to disagree on scales even Liliputians would consider minute. She's going deaf, English isn't his first language - between them it is a menu of misunderstandings and complications that leaves any bystander, and myself, stupefied. I break out my mobile and hurriedly punch in the only number I know can save me from this for another 8 hours here tonight - Rock & Roller.
He answers within one ring - "yeah, who's this?". I explain our tete-a-tete at the restaurant the night before. "Oh yeah, cool man, when you coming over?" I say I'm having a quiet meal now but in a few hours, my parents will be.... "nah man, you're coming over right NOW". OK, I smile... "You have no idea what you're in for tonight mate - you're going to DIE!" he exclaims. I have no doubt he can ensure this eventuality, given an opportunity. I beat a hasty retreat, call a cab, and I'm on my way to his pad.
The 'pad' is a sqaulid bedsit, strewn with guitars, none of which he can play. I'm treated to renditions of original 'songs' (though they are merely collections of single notes, strummed without advancing the notion of tune one iota) and some lyrics off the back cover of a Stephanie Meyers novel. Other stories and anecdotes about him I cannot further divulge, suffice to say, an hour into the journey I'm questioning whether hot tea and biscuits with Mum would have really been so bad tonight? Nevertheless, I'm not one to give in easily, and we mount transport for tonight's foray into the undiscovered Bali.
10 beers each ( R&R has a massive head start on me by 6pm when I arrive), two packs of Gudang Guram and innumerable stops all over the island later, he has only one eye open while talking to me, swaying mightily, has abused most Balinese in his path, is weeing openly on the streets and calling me a host of names unfit to print here. It's midnight, I've discovered the undiscovered Bali, and he can have it back. I mercifully hail the only taxi I've seen in the last half hour, and disappear in a cloud of disgust before he can hurl another curse in my direction.
sweet dreams R&R...