Still no bike

I'll keep it brief, since a motorbike trip without a motorbike ain't really much of a trip in my book. The aforementioned bike was last seen on 13 January at the quayside in Brisbane, and is due to arrive (fingers and toes crossed) in Singapore on 6 February. I've been combatting the separation anxiety by chilling out in Bali, running on the beach in a vain attempt to get fit, playing football with the locals, and taking advantage of $5 massages and $1 Bintangs. I've also done a bit of research the next month or so of the journey through Malaysia and Thailand.

Slumming it in Bali

On the whole, Bali has been a pleasant surprise. I was expecting a cross between an Islamic police state and the Walkabout in Shepherd's Bush, but in fact everyone seems very laid back (turns out Bali is a Hindu island) and there are very few Australians to be found. Unfortunately, in the hotspots like Kuta, this means that the hawkers outnumber the tourists about 10-to-1, although a curt "piss off, I'm English" usually stops their "aussie aussie aussie" sales pitch mid-sentence.

Bali filling station

Bali has also provided some gentle acclimatisation for what's to come. A couple of days on a rented scooter helped me to get the hang of traffic conventions Asia-style - seems like the key is never to come to a complete standstill, but instead to merge (even if this means temporarily using the wrong side of the road). When in Rome...

Who says scooters can't be bad-ass?

After a few days by the beach in Kuta and a few days in the hills at Ubud, I decided to venture into the hinterland and made my way to Kintamani to do some trekking. I discovered that you don't have to stay far from the tourist trail before you start sharing your room with the local wildlife (and on one occassion, a rather large maggot waving cheerfully from my fried chicken).

It's currently the rainy season which is not the best time for climbing mountains, but I picked a good day, set off at 3am, and by sunrise had a great view of active volcanoes rising from long-dead calderas, steam coming out of cracks in the ground, a patchwork of paddies and lava fields.

View from the top - Mount Agung from Mount Batur

After a few days in Bali, it seemed like half the people I met (men and women) were called Wayan. Turns out there are only four names in Bali, Wayan (#1), Made (#2), Nyoman (#3) and Ketut (#4). Kids are always named in order, and if you make it to #5, you just go back to Wayan again.

With my mountain guide, Nyoman (#3)

Overall, Bali has been great - a very comfortable, cheap place to while away a couple of weeks until the bike arrives in Singapore. Hopefully by the next blog entry, I will be reunited with the Transalp and One Man Caravan will be on the road again.