The silence of utter laziness.. haven't been having major adventures, so no updates for a few days. Hmm: after getting that sunburn (currently at that rather enjoyable stage where you get to peel your skin off. It's the only reason I've always liked facemasks: a similar feeling, but no burn preceding, and no danger of running into skin that's still attached), I spent a day doing nothing that used my back, just sitting around cafes drinking iced coffee (all coffee in Bali is excellent, once you stop before the bottom inch of grounds) or seriously fresh juice and reading (Roddy doyle - the woman who walked into doors. Very good, and not as embarassing as some of my previous choices). Power cut across the city meant I couldn't stay in my room - too hot - and I was viewing the beach with a certain amount of suspicion.
Out later with my Balinese mate Bobby whom I hadn't seen for a few days for some clubbing at Paddy's Irish Pub - his choice, not mine, and it's not remotely irish though they do play the obligatory Brown Eyed Girl by Van Da Man. I mean, can you picture an Irish pub being opensided? Or selling beer for 50p, come to that?
Out with Bobby on an expedition on his scooter the next day. Plan was to go up the volcano. Ran out of petrol in the first mile: hiked to the nearest stall selling glass jars stoppered with rags to get refueled. On to monkey forest (a forest with monkeys. Holy, apparently, but they just looked like the usual cheeky buggers that'd mug you for a bag of sweets to me). Got back: the back wheel of the bike was punctured. I blame the monkeys. Hiked up to the garage in Ubud (major artistic centre) and waited for it to be repaired. One hour later. Just got out of Ubud and it started to rain. Not nicely, either. Big mothers of raindrops attacking. Stop at a roadside shop and drink coke waiting for it to pass and admiring the way the 4 ft deep drainage ditch turned into a raging torrent overspilling onto the road. One hour later. On and up through orange groves and incredible stacks of rice paddies staggering down cliffs. Funny rattling noise from the bike. Paused to consider - turned out to be the registration plate falling off. Tied it back with bamboo leafs (the police here are very corrupt and insist on being bribed even if you've done nothing, and would whoop with delight at an actual misdemeanour). On. Finally, at the top of a ridge, looking across incredible sunset scenery to the volcano just a few miles away: beautiful! But I am now seriously freezing and it's almost dark and it'll mean another hour or so on the bike, and I decide to try for another volcano another time (nice one in flores with multicolour lakes, apparently) and we headed home.
On to Hulu cafe: the Oz girl that I'd met before - Annabel - was there with her mother: their last night in Bali. The drag queens serenaded them most beautifully and embarassed the mother (a reticent german) by dragging her onto the stage. Annabel's particular friend - a queen called Puta - dragged us on to the Q bar, very deliberately introducing me to a single lesbian friend of his, Leny. A medical student from Irian Jaya (papua new guinea as was) who wasn't single, exactly, but who didn't think there should be any problem with having several girlfriends simultanaeously, but apparently her girlfriend did & was emigrating back to Java tomorrow or maybe the day after ... Nice to know that some things are universal. Anyway, herself and her best friend, Didi (a Suluwesi rent boy) came back to my place for a few drinks and a chat - and no, nothing else. Interesting that though there is absolutely no lesbian scene here (she's the only native lesbian I met, all the others were imported) she's managed to adopt all the usual attitudes & style & would be at home in the Candy Bar immediately. There's a bigger male scene, as usual, to identify with, and yep Didi had the identical gestures & facial expressions and ways of accentuating, to any ladyboy in London
Next day - nothing much: moseyed into Denpasar (capital of Bali) and back, mainly because I felt I should have been there after two weeks next door to it. Swam. Next day - yesterday, come to that - pretty similar; sat on the beach reading (Trollope, the small house at allington. Good, but think I prefer gone with the wind for beach reading - just as long as no-one asks what I'm reading). And today, finally got my ass in gear to come over to Lombok. Almost 10 hours between bus and ferry. Hard to tell anything much about the place so far, since it's night and many things are shut. Definitely way quieter than Kuta - it's Muslim (relaxed form thereof, but Muslim nonetheless), and the few pubs close early (11: London hours again - the horror!) The architecture is not nearly as beautiful as in Bali, where you couldn't spit without hitting some ornate feature, where half the average houses looked like hindu temples - far more westernised: houses is houses here.