Bali Boys

Nothing could have demonstrated the incredible contrasts of Indonesia more than swapping Cianjur for Bali (more specifically Kuta). The people look the same, but they've kept Hinduism rather than adopted Islam, kept the karma sutra rather than the Koran, Flo Rida instead of the Immans call to prayer. All in all Kuta is a trashy sell out, with bad beaches, loads of bogans and even more stalls to buy your fake snap backs and alcohol branded beaters. To my horror, I also discovered that you can expect physical blows, and abusive calls of 'bali boy' if you promise to 'come back' to a street vendor and he sees you buying your knock off vans somewhere else.

Nevertheless, having been slightly starved of this kind of tourist destination we went mad for it. It was probably expected from Rhys and I that David Guetta's latest magical mix of urban soul and electro would send us into a fit of delirious happiness. But it even had Will (now the proud owner of a JD beater and fake bans to go with that straw hat) proclaiming how much he'd missed the beautiful Belge. Overall Kuta is great for a bit; you can party all night, with aussie's that look like they've never been allowed out the gym, and even get a kebab on your way home after your mates have disappeared off with two japenese girls.

Next day we plotted our escape from Kuta by managing to convince some locals to rent us their cheapest Suzuki Jimmy (compete with leaky roof, terrible brakes, but a cracking sound system) and hit the open (very full) roads with Batur, one of Bali"s active volcanoes, in our sights. A few hours later with the help of Rhys's expert navigation and Will's incredible patience and compassion for dealing with overtaking scooters, we made it.

It turns out, however, that the volcano was guarded by a faithful troop of men, capable of sniffing out a plan to scale the mountain solo, with ruthless endeavour. For those of you familiar with Tikeshi's castle the feeling was akin to making it all the way to the final level. Just to have Craig Charles mock your feeble attempts as the imperial warriors destroy your paper ring within seconds. Basically we were forced to take a guide.

After paying less than a third of the small fortune the guy was demanding everything was sorted; a 4 am departure to make sure we made it time for sunrise photos, then over to the active crater for a look at the bubbling lava below. All our slight concerns that the conditions would be overcast were skillfully put to bed by the mountain guide, 'Sir, listen to me, I have been doing this job 17 years, in the morning visibility is always perfect, never any cloud'.....

Well I'm glad to say that the 4 am wake up, the 2 hour trek in the rain and the money we spent was totally worth it. As you can see from our photos the view of sunrise was gorgeous. And there wasn't a cloud in sight as we stared down to where you can normally see 'a sea of bubbling lava'. Either we're f***ing unlucky or that guide is a bloody liar.

Fortunately our faith was quickly restored in Bali and Indonesia after spending a few nights in the fantastically chilled Ubud. The town is home to the Monkey Forest, a beautiful jungle area of town complete with mini waterfalls, thick foliage and hundreds of the cutest monkeys trying to steal over-weight ladies' bananas. Me and Will spent too long (according to one rowdy monkey) wondering the forest as Rhys lay groaning about entering another liquid patch. That leaves one true member of Will's 'firm', yours truly.

Stay tuned. Shaan