All still a little dumbfounded by what we'd experienced at Ijen we were dropped at Banyuwangi port for our transport to Bali. Our luxury air conditioned bus never arrived so we boarded the ferry by foot and chucked our bags in the back of a local bus heading for Denpasar. Up on deck with Philip and Elke we watched Java slowly receed as the lush green shores of Bali krept into view.

We climbed aboard the cramped, smokey and smelly confines of the bus, Emma having to share her window seat with a colony of ants that had taken up residence in the window sill and made the uncomfortable four hour journey from Gilimanur to Denpasar. The change from Java's mixed religion to Bali's exclusively Hindu religion was immediately evident. Every home large enough housed its own shrine and every village had at least one temple, the statues dressed in sarongs and gold bands burning insence and offerings on every available ledge.

We said goodbye to Philip and Elke at one of Denpasas bus terminals and hopped in a cab for Sanur, twenty minutes up the coast. Everywhere was still pretty quiet following Nyepi, so we stayed put in our lovely hotel where Jona sampled the local rice spirit Arak. Obviously one too many Araks the previous evening Jona declared over breakfast that he couldn't be bothered with public transport and wished he had a man to drive us to Padang Bai. As luck would have it we found a man outside the hotel offering transport. He would take us to Padang Bai, an hour up the coast, for six quid - bargain! Stretched out in our own personal Bemo we watched the lush green Balinese countryside roll by.