Kuta

Bartering has improved, mainly because I've realised I don't really need anything. Found a room (thanks to a girl I met on the plane here) for R50000. Bargain! Wandered up and down the main street of the town all afternoon looking for an ATM; when found one (later realised there were many), my card didn't work. Tried another. Same...then the fun of trying to find a place to make an international collect call started. Seems no wartel here (other than perhaps government run ones, which are near the airport) accept calls to the International Operator. Sucky. So, back to the hotel for another bank card (keeping only one on me for safety, other locked in bag in locked room).

All in all the day has been rather fruitless, other than getting here, finding a room and now at the tourist night market (am a bit too wary to venture to the local one alone) where can get R8000 (C$0.80) pork and noodle soup and relatively cheap drinks. Well, I hope it is pork, there are a hell of a lot of stray dogs in Bali.

Kuta is very busy, especially compared to the other places I have been. It's heaving with tourists of many persuasions, but many more younger ones – this is Bali's 'party resort' and also one of the top surf places so features on many a dude's list. Motorbikes and mopeds are omnipresent, ignoring traffic flow/directions and going on the pavement when needed. I get one from where the bus drops you off to my hotel...it's hard with my backpack on, especially over the small speed bump-type things in the narrow alleys we go down. Several times I think a car going the other way will smash into my leg or I'll fall over backwards with the weight of my bag or another bike will crash into us, but having put my life into the hands (and wheels) of several complete motorbike strangers already, I just try to enjoy the ride and not strain my back too much.

As an aside, I noticed in Ubud, where I stayed with a family near Jalan Monkey Forest, that phlegm production here is more than anywhere else I've ever been. Every morning I would get woken up at about 6:30am by the resident cockerels and the sounds of one or more of the family member's hacking, TB-like efforts to procure some mucous, followed by the satisfactory – for them – splat as it hit the ground. This same phenomenon has since been observed (or more aptly heard) in many other places. I am still trying to decide if the majority of the populace suffers from some national respiratory malaise, or if the climate is to blame. Interestingly, I seem to recall that in Penelokan (the one truly elevated spot I went to) the noisy habit was less prevalent. At the same time, I am paying attention to my own sinus operations for any clues as to this rather grotty issue.

Sanur smelled like chickens, Ubud like incense, Penelokan like fresh trees and Candi Dasa like nothing. The night market smells a bit like rotten meat, which makes my soup rather less appetising so I stick to the noodles and vast amounts of cabbage-like greenery instead.
Dinner finished, the question remains as to what I should do with the rest of my night. It's been so long since I've gone out out alone that the prospect of it is rather unappealing. Maybe it's my age, or perhaps it is the solo female traveler thing: it is tiring, I find, to always wonder who you can trust, to keep being asked if you have any friends, if you are married, being told you need a Balinese boyfriend (at least 29 offers so far), numerous questions regarding where you're staying and your room number (lies generally work well) and the constant refusal of invitations to go out for a drink. All these questions are asked by men (locals). I want to meet more women, but so far they're pretty untalkative, partly because they are less likely to have gone to school/had the opportunity to learn English. So the night is still on the cards...I'll just have to see where it leads!