Location: Amed

Cast: Everyone (not the Welshies)

Previously, on Indonesian Adventures: We have just left Ubud, the town where you sleep, not where you do.......

Whilst in Ubud we [someone else within the pack] arrange a driver whom will take us to Amed with a detour to some huge temples. Amed, is on the north east coast of Bali and has black volcanic sand. It is made of several different villages. All small; with little happening in them. Interested in seeing the sand and a local esque village we're all a little bit excited. That or we are please to leave the confinement of Ubud. No ocean and essentially nowhere to be truly relaxed and alone.

Our driver to the temple was lovely. I don't usually like the word 'lovely' but that describes him to a tea. He was friendly, helpful and genuine. On the whole Balinese people are nice enough but you can see through their money grabbing tactics. This driver was different. Possible they rely on a lot of customers and word of mouth s perhaps one of their key promoters I don't know, but I sure know that I would definitely recommend the company.....if only I remembered what the name was. I know his name was Wayan...but it could still be a while before I work out what the company was called!

6 of us, with our bags, in a large white van. A special bus some might say. There was plenty of room and nothing to complain about. We drive north towards the temples. The greatest and largest compounds of temples in Bali I believe; 'Obyek: Dan Daya Tarik Wisata'. Things are good at the moment. I have a minimal hangover and simply happy to be alive!

All the same I enter the temple grounds paying 5,000 rph for a cloth and a piece of material. Apparently, my sexy green holiday hot pants are unacceptable for Hindus. Bah. The route, the road is straight at a gradient that to a normal human is of no challenge what so ever. However, in the humidity, lack of fitness this is a toughie. My resilience to flagging down a money hustling scooter means I have to persist. No matter how I hate it. The old boy Richard is soon to flag down a scooter, but understandably. 2 small girls holding a plastic bag full of flowers were running up to everyone that were huffing and puffing their way up the hill. They would reach inside their bag and hand you a flower. As naive as I can be I saw this as a gesture of kindness and a "welcome to Bali". Boy, I was wrong. It's like the gypos that hand you that purple flower wrapped up in foil and say "I need money." You reply, "oh, no thanks. I don't want any," or "sorry, I haven't any money". The gypos response is "you're now cursed; all your children will die" or some other kind of b******s. These girls were not set out to curse anyone but to make a little bit of money. A soothing yet annoying chant soon began to gush from their mouths "gimme money, gimme money...." over and over and over. Half the time they were not even looking at us and were looking for their next victim.

Not surprised as it was only the start of the bombardment of people selling postcards, umbrellas, drinks, calendars, wind chimes, toys etc. All of whom would be selling exactly the same products. So, if you had purchased a pack of postcards from one woman or children (who would most definitely play the pained expression card) you just wouldn't buy the same ones 3 metres later! 1) Its too much money. 2) Its too heavy. 3) I don't have that many people to write to!

The group separates, but no matter how hard I tried to keep away from the crowd I found myself bumping into them. This temple shenanigans was a maze. Up, down, left right and turn around....almost like a dance....or simple like Labyrinth. Lucky, I didn't have a little brother to find in 13 hours. He would truly be turned into a goblin! The temples were literally amongst the clouds and it was a truly delightful and almost unbelievable sight. It was tremendous. The case as it was I was constantly thinking of where the closest toilet was. When I had realised that I had gone fairly deep inside the complex layout of this wonder of walls and roofs I knew it was time to exit and find a squatter. That I did. Was it nice? What it hell?! It stunk and the only way of flushing it was if I filled a small container with a handle with water and poured it down. As you can imagine, with a dodgy tummy I needed a couple of these to push everything down otherwise it's embarrassing! I feared that the 500 rph loaned sarong was going to become tarnished by night fall if I 1) didn't get out of this toilet soon 2) kept peeing on it and/or 3) dropped a squishy on it! Nasty....

About an hour or so later, we arrive to a restaurant located high up in the mountains; 'Mahagiri: Rendang-Karangasen'. The view is simply spectacular. For miles you can see the rice paddies in their quite frankly, beautiful formation. The sun is bright but not glary, the clouds are in the right position amongst the mountains and the sky looks fresh. It's perfect. It was times like this that I wish I had a camera. The food was outstanding for a reasonable price. The view was unbelievable. The company was good and the waiter was cute as hell. Not in a sexual way but in a "you know what I would really like to tutor someone like that. Opposed to the obnoxious, f*** wits that we already do teach in ye old Korea." Having a little knowledge on the social economics of the Balinese society and their people, we are fully aware of their determination to learn English, in order to make a living and have opportunities that other people (like us) have so easily. As harsh it sounds to constantly make comparisons to Korea it flows with ease. Being faced with a brick wall for 6 months and then to be able to speak fluently English with the Balinese people who haven't been going to English lessons for their whole lives is a breath of fresh air. I like fresh air. Who doesn't? Exactly!

We set off. Glaring out into the distance from time to time I would lose myself in my thoughts. We arrive in a village called something like Jemeluk? Phew! No wait, now we have to decide which hotel/ motel/ inn room we're going to stay in! Never taking charge of inspecting the rooms I let the others take care of business.

The decision is made. We're staying at "Three Brothers" directly on the black sanded beach. The sky was overcast but the air was sea fresh. No worries in the world. Exploring the bathroom is always at the top of the list where ever I go; therefore Three Brothers was no exception. Open the doors to the room.....whoah whoah where's the ceiling? An outdoor bathroom! Mental. Seeing its potential in sunshine I grin and bear it. The shower was cold....and so, I didn't have one. Nice. Hey, the sea is right out front! Gimme a break!

The black sand is rough and thick in consistency. It's not the type of sand I would happily lay upon for hours a day. It automatically darkens the entire strip of land. A pleasant stroll would be more painful than the soft white sands. The sand particles hitting the back of your legs as you walk on the sand whilst wearing flip flops, is what I speak of. That s*** hurts yo.

Lounging in a smug "yes, I am on a beach hut veranda" kinda way the locals soon spot us. Pros and cons of being located right on the beach front during the rainy season with little to no tourists. Leeching off the present tourists is the only way! A bunch of kids come hurtling towards us like a stampede of antelopes! Either that or we looked as though we were covered in bank notes and tossing the spare coins that we had into the air....the truth is, we all looked a bit like a bunch of hobos at this point. If I were the Balinese I would steer clear of us, perhaps even give us a glass of water that we could either A) drink or B) wash with.....no wait they will always be that bit poorer than us.

Thrusting bundles and bundles of necklaces in our faces we amuse them for a while and say "come back later, or tomorrow." Obviously, we later realised that these kids are Balinese not Korean; therefore they understood what we said immediately. Smart kids; business people of the future I foresee. Before, their return we were accosted by an even smarter kid, Wayan. Greeting us in a confident and friendly way he asks us to help him with his English homework. Pulling out his English book I feel an air of guilt. The guilt being that I am on holiday spending money to ride an elephant and get drunk. This kid has to pay so much money that he simply doesn't have to just go to school for a week. I help him. Problem is, I want to go out and get wasted soon. Sorry kid we are going to have to hurry this along. So, Shannon takes over the role of English teacher. When we had reached that "friends?" stage, he whips out his bundle of necklaces! Not sure what just happened here; it would seem that I just paid him to have me as an English teacher.....However, he then gave us an extra necklace for our help. Sweet. I still have one but somehow lost the other.....gosh, I'm a loser. Damn it Bali!

Rushing to get ready, go to the shop for a wine run (twice) and drinking the wine, the warm wine, the warm white wine, the first group of kids returned and could see how we bought from Wayan. It was time to be more ruthless. A serious lack of cash machines and bad organisational skills by myself meant I had not budgeted very well and so I had to be careful...so go away kids! I'm not going to buy anything!!! SORRY!

Meeting the guys at the restaurant up the beach was tricky in the dark, with a bottle of wine inside too. The restaurant was popular! You're thinking customers aren't you? Nope, in fact it was bug things, flying bug things. They looked like Queen ants when they rise from the ground when they've completed whatever they do underground, but acted like moths on speed. It was fascinating to stare at, and just plan disgusting in another more obvious way. Blow out the candles! Get rid of the light it's the only solution. My problem was that I needed the toilet (of course) but to get there I would have to dart through a cloud of I don't know whats?! I did it...several times.

In an experiment felicitated by Kevin for myself to complete, I moved a candle from one table to another to see if they'd follow. They did. What I hadn't noticed was the people sitting right next to the table I had just placed it on.....bad move Erin, bad move. The lady pushed out her chair, stomped over, blew the candleout and gave a glare that was unnecessary. I apologised and said "oh, gosh, sorry I didn't see you there." Which was the truth. No response. b****. Within 2 minutes they upped and left. Good.

Soon, we flagged down some scooter taxis that would take us on our 20 minute ride to another village; Wawa wewe....brilliant name. The roads were winy and extremely dark. Looking over my left shoulder I could see a magical view. Few lights and no monstrous high rise towers polluting the landscape; it was luscious. Every minute of that ride I tried my best NOT to think about the road. Every minute I tried to not think about the fact I am on a bike with a strange man in a strange country, and drunk. Surviving the journey, unharmed and un-raped we bounce up to the bar. The bar of the whole of Amed! A band is playing and there are a couple of other foreigners there. Our scooter men and owner of our inn stayed at the bar. They had smuggled in a bottle of Arak. Arak is the Balinese version of soju; Korea or Vodka; Russia. It's lethal and has a similar taste to tequila! Oh no. I have a cocktail and some chips (Shannon and I failed to eat at the bug invested restaurant in fear of extra seasoning?!)

A sweaty man with hair so long he can sit on it and breath that could be put into bottles and sold as rodent exterminator chose to speak to me. Lucky old me. A Lenny Kravits look-a-like bar tender was more than happy to tend to the western girls. In fact, any Balinese man is. It's a shame that they're mostly 4ft 11, sweaty and pervy. Otherwise maybe it could work out. I felt like a western man in Korea for a while! Making an exit from this bosoe was pretty difficult! What do you do in these situations? Stand up and sit at another table. No need to make friends. Instead I sit with our scooter drivers, inn owner, Kevin and Shannon. A step in the right direction I reckon! This is when Arak comes into play. Goodness............"c'mon guys you have to have do the shot." Around and around the table we go. Eyes rolling back, Shannon's head going back, Kevin swaying alittle and looking for a Balinese princess he finds her. "Ah man, she's beautiful." We lose Kevin for the rest of the night. He is focused. Dance, play drums, drink Arak, dance, talk to locals, dance, drink Arak. It's time to go home! Jen and I are on the 1st run home on the scooters. On the way out.....CRASH BAM DOWN I GO! f***! I fall down a couple of steps onto my right leg.Grazed knee, leg, foot and toes. Compared to the other leg which is still recovering from my day 1 injury in Kuta I am a walking accident! Bloody hell. It hurts, I laugh, get on the bike and grip tightly to the scooter man (who is equally intoxicated!) Lots of bumps in the road and swaying would normally make me feel more nervous usually but Arak mellows me out.......we arrive back to our village and I stumble back to my room. Pass out. It was a good night!

Richard, who didn't hang out and get drunk beyond belief, was startled at a sleeping Kevin curled up in the foetus position in front of their bedroom door. Attempts to wake him up failed and that is where Kevin remained until his natural body clock told him otherwise......

Wayan, our English student came to see us in the morning before we left and we gave him one more drunken English lesson; more of a hydrous than a help. Two cars are awaiting us at the back of our inn and we load up. The next adventure is to Pa Dang Bay. From Pa Dang Bay we have to catch a 5 hour ferry to arrive to Lombok.From Lombok, we go to the Gilles!

The car journey was a relief. Purely due to my companions; Shannon, Richard and I. Richard delighted us with his own rendition of Bob Dylan. Now, that's what I call a voice! Our driver was pleasant the view was pleasant, I was happy.....PA DANG BAY!

A little confusion, annoyance with the ferry ticket people, and a sandwich later we head towards the ferry. Locals flooding to you and trying to carry your bag in order for a bit of money was just an extra annoyance. The ferry; old, rusty, dirty....I felt like an illegal immigrant who had been trying to find a "better land" and is now being punished for it. Goodness....the snob protrudes from me. Head to the highest point that we are allowed to go; the best seat I got was one that being able to see down the stair well. Nice. Trapped on this bloody boat for at least another 5 hours.

Before you know it two angels stride up the stair well. So far, this trip has been about seeing Bali, meeting the people but not bumping into some hot men.....the winds are changing. The winds changed. The angels were called Erlend and Sveinung; Norwegian soldiers with perfect English speech. AMEN.....................