Ubud

by hamishandkat

Ubud didn’t start off great. I’m honestly not casting blame or trying to make her feel bad, but Kat had an accommodation booking Fail. There were a few warning signs, and we both ignored them so i take responsibility also.

Warning sign 1: a deal too good good to be true. USD$71, reduced to USD$27
Warning sign 2: the driver we arranged to take us to Ubud hadn’t heard of the hotel or recognised the address Warning sign 3: driving an hour past Ubud and struggling to find said hotel.

Feeling a tad defeated, we wrote it off and Agus, our driver, took us back to Ubud, set us up in a nice place and we headed out for something to eat with all the yogis and zen travellers, between which we were clearly distinguished by either a lack of leather Magnum PI gun holster typre underarm travel wallets, dreadlocks or some distant connection with a man named Mr Fun; we sat down and laughed it off and i wrote an email to the booking website claiming misrepresenation and false advertising.

We exit as the rain comes and we hop over felchy road puddles up the road to the corner, where we catch a cab to Nuri’s. One gin Martini thanks, and a Vodka version for the lady. And a serve of ribs while you’re at it.

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We sit for a while, feeling a heap better than we did, ordering another serve of ribs. An older guy sits down next to us and we get chatting. He is the owner’s husband, Brian, and we spend three hours and however many glasses of draught Bintang talking about the world and how he came to live here. We meet his ten year old daughter Maggie, or Baby GaGa depending on where she is, and his wife Nuri. Then we go next door and see a stange Austrian man dancing with his shirt off while Maggie plays the drums to Smoke On The Water.

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We walk along the road and I duck into a warung for a beer for the road. Convinced to drink it there by one of the many westerners crowded around a bar set up in the corner, we get talking and quickly recognise someone I know; Nic, originally from Freo, who now runs a hotel in Batu Karas, Java that I’ve stayed at previously. And her strangley familiar friend Donna from Albany.

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The Bintang fuelled festivities continue into the morning and we leave with an agreement to meet some of the others back at the same place a 3pm the next day for something. More than happy with the way the day turned out, Kat and I walk home laughing and talking and clapping our hands and yelling “BAYAR!” or something similar to dissuade the packs of dogs that were unhappy to see us on the streets of Ubud at 3am

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