I bailed on plans to visit Bali's respected clubscene and instead tucked myself into my hotel, hidden in the quiet back alleys.
The next day, Thursday as it would be, I was up early. Though not cured by sleed, I was feeling a bit better than the days before. I enjoyed my two slices of toast and my Javanese coffee (filter through your teeth!), which were free (!), and lazed about for an hour or so before L came back from his morning errands. Not long after I was on the back of his rented motorcycle (18,000rp/day) whizzing towards the airport. Back in the bowels of Denpasar International I decided to knock on the firmly sealed JAL door. Incredibly (or perhaps not so) someone opened the locked door. The woman at this office, which was not the place I thought it was, happily changed my ticket, bringing me home earlier than before. Earlier you say! Yes. While I am in a veritable paradise I am ready to head back to familiar (though now unfamiliar) turf.
L changed his AirAsia ticket to KL and we were off.

Given enough time and effort you can find cheap (inexpensive, rather) places to eat and sleep. L and I ate 7000rp noodles at a dandy restaurant not far from Poppies 2, then returned to the Bali Duta Wisata, our hotel.

(I just found a Verve album hidden on my iRiver. Horay!)

***

Bali's daytime heat is almost unbearable. Today I went to the beach to read. I left after 15 minutes. That's about how long it takes to burn, consequently. Also enough time to allow 10 beachside vendors to disturb your pleasant meditative beach slumber. Luckily i know this already, unlike so many other freshly landed holidayers. Red like lobsters. Painful. some beginning to peel in sheets.
The noon sun in Indonesia can be related to the heat felt when opening a hot oven. Whoosh! Your eyelashes curl a little with the intensity. The heat is compounded by the frequent power outages in Bali. Or maybe it's just Kuta. Fans aren't much good, just have to hunker down and bear it. A cold fruit juice can do wonders though.

The beach in Bali is not as bad as was first impressed upon me. At low tide the water receeds past the steep dirty sand to reveal a grey sand flat. The waves break rhythmically about 200m from the shore, and in, on, and under the front most waves are dozens, if not hundreds, of struggling would-be surfers. Wannabe's. Occasionally one of the girls lying on the beach refastens her bikini and dips her red body into the brown, turbulent water. While the warmest in Asia (that I have experienced), Bali's water still refreshes and offers a refuge from the hot, baking sand. Watch out for those renegade surfboards, though!

Across the street from the beach, but still within sight of the heat-dreary vendors, masseuses and touts hiding uder the fringe of palms on the upper reaches of the beach, are incredibly developed establishments. Glamourous McDonalds, Huge Hard Rock Cafe, not far off, the Collosal Planet Hollywood. In the streets behind these are hundreds of surf shops, designer clothing stores, craft shops, and an incredible number of t-shirt and DVD shops. This is Bali.
This, and loads of big, red, hairy bellies on aged shirtless men. Aussie accents aplenty.