When we told people we were going to Thailand, seasoned travellers all warned us to beware of the culture shock when we arrived in Bangkok. Perhaps because we were so excited to be there or perhaps because we were prepared for it, we didn't really experience anything more than a little static electricity.
Arriving in Bali was quite a different experience. After our taxi from the airport dropped us off in Kuta we just stare, marvelling and as if someone had jammed our fingers into a socket a bone shaking culture shock took hold of our bodies. A faux-western beach resort spread out before us. Our eyes are bombarded- by neon lights and signs; Billabong, Ripcurl, D&G, Pizza Hut, McDonalds, Hard Rock Cafe. Our ears are assaulted by the constant beeping of taxis competing for business, music blaring from bars, and the loud and brash tones of a thousand Aussies.
Kuta is Courtown to Australia's Dublin, Benidorm to Australia's middle England, the equivalent of Bondi beach to the Sydney bound culchie with county jersey and straw hat in hand. I think you get the point! We arrive on a Monday, and will be meeting 3 other Irish girls here but not until Thursday. So feeling like rabbits at a rave concert, and not overly impressed with the standard of cheap accommodation on offer in Kuta, we spend one night in a very basic room near Poppies2 lane and the next morning we head for the sanctuary of Ubud. Ubud was recommended to us by countless people and it was indeed amazing, so amazing in fact that it deserves it's own separate blog post. So for now I will just say we needed that little break to compose ourselves before we could return and adjust our eyes to the bright lights of Kuta.
Beach before the crowds arrive
After our 3 days of bliss in the Ubud we head back to Kuta and with depleted sources of mobile technology available to us organising to meet up the other Irish girls proves to be more complicated than masterminding a plan to break into the Pentagon. We have to try and remember what people did before we all had mobiles!
We meet them eventually and head out to Skybar, just one of the many nightclubs on offer. It's a stark reminder of the nightclub bombings that took place here in 2002 when they check our bags on the way into the club- not for a cheeky naggin of vodka as you might expect but for bombs! We have a good night, its nice to see the Aoife, Claire and Hazel catch up with them, have a drink and a boogie and admire/laugh at the dancers performing choreographed routines in colourful outfits on stage. Hookers come into the night club touting for business from drunk tourists (which they get) and while the Irish girls are tut tutting they get given out to by an Aussie guy, who asks them did they also assume his Balinese girlfriend was a hooker. They have to explain at length that no they don't think all Balinese women are hookers but that when a girl walks in in perspex heels with thigh high stockings and a man hands her money from his wallet, she kind of loses the benefit of the doubt!
Hazel and Aoife
Monument to people killed in 2002 bombings
We spend the next few days soaking up our last bit of the Asian sun on Kuta beach whilst being pestered to buy sarongs,straw mats, ice creams, surf lessons. One of the more hillarious methods of getting your attention is for moped taxi drivers or hawkers to say "hey darling, remember me?". The first time it happens I have to ask Eleanor is there anything she wants to tell me!! On the beach an Indonesian guy in bright board shorts and neon sunglasses offers surf lessons (and possibly more!) and asks how long I have been in Bali, when I tell him 5 days he asks why I am so white. I decline to tell him that I have actually been out in the Asian sun for 6 weeks!
I decide to take surf lessons but rather than going with the cool dudes on the beach I opt for Odyssey surf school. I have a 2 hour group surf lesson, during the first hour I mostly drink the polluted sea water and fall down a lot. The second hour is much more successful for me and after i catch 3 or 4 baby waves, I am already picturing crowds cheering my name as I win competitions and kids buying surfboards with my name on them. I am snapped back to reality as my board is heading straight for a swimmers head, with my steering not really up to scratch just yet I tumble back into the sea for another drink. Surfing was definitely one of my few highlights of Kuta, but unfortunately I don't have any pics of me falling over for people to laugh at!
Odysseys
Eventually the constant bleatings of the hawkers and shopkeepers get our attention so we pick up some knock off DVDs and browse the stalls for more things to weigh our backpacks down. By the end of our time in Kuta we've learned to appreciate it a little bit more.Even though its not a place I'd go back to, its hard to look out across the sandy beach at surfers catching waves and kids playing on the shoreline, as the sun starts to set and not have a hint of that happy holiday feeling.
Windswept
Arriving in Bali was quite a different experience. After our taxi from the airport dropped us off in Kuta we just stare, marvelling and as if someone had jammed our fingers into a socket a bone shaking culture shock took hold of our bodies. A faux-western beach resort spread out before us. Our eyes are bombarded- by neon lights and signs; Billabong, Ripcurl, D&G, Pizza Hut, McDonalds, Hard Rock Cafe. Our ears are assaulted by the constant beeping of taxis competing for business, music blaring from bars, and the loud and brash tones of a thousand Aussies.
Kuta is Courtown to Australia's Dublin, Benidorm to Australia's middle England, the equivalent of Bondi beach to the Sydney bound culchie with county jersey and straw hat in hand. I think you get the point! We arrive on a Monday, and will be meeting 3 other Irish girls here but not until Thursday. So feeling like rabbits at a rave concert, and not overly impressed with the standard of cheap accommodation on offer in Kuta, we spend one night in a very basic room near Poppies2 lane and the next morning we head for the sanctuary of Ubud. Ubud was recommended to us by countless people and it was indeed amazing, so amazing in fact that it deserves it's own separate blog post. So for now I will just say we needed that little break to compose ourselves before we could return and adjust our eyes to the bright lights of Kuta.
Beach before the crowds arrive
 |
| From Kuta, Bali |
After our 3 days of bliss in the Ubud we head back to Kuta and with depleted sources of mobile technology available to us organising to meet up the other Irish girls proves to be more complicated than masterminding a plan to break into the Pentagon. We have to try and remember what people did before we all had mobiles!
We meet them eventually and head out to Skybar, just one of the many nightclubs on offer. It's a stark reminder of the nightclub bombings that took place here in 2002 when they check our bags on the way into the club- not for a cheeky naggin of vodka as you might expect but for bombs! We have a good night, its nice to see the Aoife, Claire and Hazel catch up with them, have a drink and a boogie and admire/laugh at the dancers performing choreographed routines in colourful outfits on stage. Hookers come into the night club touting for business from drunk tourists (which they get) and while the Irish girls are tut tutting they get given out to by an Aussie guy, who asks them did they also assume his Balinese girlfriend was a hooker. They have to explain at length that no they don't think all Balinese women are hookers but that when a girl walks in in perspex heels with thigh high stockings and a man hands her money from his wallet, she kind of loses the benefit of the doubt!
Hazel and Aoife
 |
| From Kuta, Bali |
Monument to people killed in 2002 bombings
 |
| From Kuta, Bali |
We spend the next few days soaking up our last bit of the Asian sun on Kuta beach whilst being pestered to buy sarongs,straw mats, ice creams, surf lessons. One of the more hillarious methods of getting your attention is for moped taxi drivers or hawkers to say "hey darling, remember me?". The first time it happens I have to ask Eleanor is there anything she wants to tell me!! On the beach an Indonesian guy in bright board shorts and neon sunglasses offers surf lessons (and possibly more!) and asks how long I have been in Bali, when I tell him 5 days he asks why I am so white. I decline to tell him that I have actually been out in the Asian sun for 6 weeks!
I decide to take surf lessons but rather than going with the cool dudes on the beach I opt for Odyssey surf school. I have a 2 hour group surf lesson, during the first hour I mostly drink the polluted sea water and fall down a lot. The second hour is much more successful for me and after i catch 3 or 4 baby waves, I am already picturing crowds cheering my name as I win competitions and kids buying surfboards with my name on them. I am snapped back to reality as my board is heading straight for a swimmers head, with my steering not really up to scratch just yet I tumble back into the sea for another drink. Surfing was definitely one of my few highlights of Kuta, but unfortunately I don't have any pics of me falling over for people to laugh at!
Odysseys
 |
| From Kuta, Bali |
 |
| From Kuta, Bali |
Eventually the constant bleatings of the hawkers and shopkeepers get our attention so we pick up some knock off DVDs and browse the stalls for more things to weigh our backpacks down. By the end of our time in Kuta we've learned to appreciate it a little bit more.Even though its not a place I'd go back to, its hard to look out across the sandy beach at surfers catching waves and kids playing on the shoreline, as the sun starts to set and not have a hint of that happy holiday feeling.
Windswept
 |
| From Kuta, Bali |
 |
| From Kuta, Bali |
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