Ubud is good. But Kuta is cuter. Actually that’s complete nonsense, Ubud is heaps betterer. Here’s some Ubud from a drunken perspective ( Did I mention I’m still alone ?) Those funky dudes are Ibor ( rhymes with Igor but only if you say it with a Transylvanian accent), and Made, which rhymes with Sade, (not the marquis the funk singer.) Chick in helmet is some very nice but unspecified member of the staff.
The arty shots of Balinese on the footpath also seem to show pretty definitive proof of scooters from either the past or the future briefly flirting with this time zone.
But urgent business was afeet. Our good friend Anthony was in Kuta and we were to meet him there. Though why I say “we” I’m not at all sure. Force of habit perhaps ?
So then, onto the mini-mini bus (oh my aching sciatic ankles) through a countryside both sacred and profane. Election posters flapped before verdant green paddies, exhaust fumes mingling with incense, temples next to tattoo parlours.
Kuta came on like a wild beast on heat. It’s a powerful place, hot, surging, turgid, beautiful beach, way out crowd scenes.
I was feeling nihilistic without my darling. Riding a scooter in Kuta ? What could be beauter ?
Luckily the lovely Tony was a dab hand at manouvering the lanes and alleys. We made it safely to a wondrous warung by Seminyak beach and had delicious coffee, served in rather exquisite saucers, and rice dishes all for about $5 for the two of us. We were happy white fellas, adrift in a beautiful brown and shining green land.