Arak Attack & the Garden in the Sky

I'll take the lemon drop thanks. Baik Baik.

I consider it ‘typical form’ to start the day at around 6am after a heavy night of drinking.  I don’t know why that is but it just feels natural, especially given the early sunrise and the fact that it doesn’t seem to drop below 20℃.  - Wallowing in a hotbox of sweat and farts is no way to start the day anyway.

06:00 is also about the time that ‘Uncle Steve’ decided to have a ‘mid-day’ drink of orange juice and vodka. ‘Uncle Steve’ is an old Australian man presumably in his 50’s who started this particular day at 2am and just got back at the hostel to make ‘screwdrivers’ in a plastic juice bottle. I can only understand about half of what he says but I guess he's alright.



The previous night started off with the purchase of 1 bottle of Bintang from the hostel fridge which I originally assumed had costed 25,000rp ($2.50 NZD*). It turns out that due to the current ‘happy day’ offer, I could pay 100,000rp ($10 NZD*) and get 5 bottles of Bintang!



The hostel I was staying at that night had a semi enclosed rooftop chill out area which is good as I quite like chilling out in semi enclosed rooftop areas. This part is imperative to the part about the Arak, as without this area available to me, I would have called it a night.

Arak is basically moonshine and is responsible for the deaths of a handful of Australian bogans each year (as well as locals). News of alcohol related deaths is kept under wraps I hear as the island relies heavily on extracting money from cashed up ‘Bules’ via the alcohol-and-loud-music method. I had heard of this infamous concoction prior to arriving in Bali but just like the whole ice cube thing, I did the exact opposite of what I would have done if I were the doctor at the travel clinic back home.



It just so happens there were a few Indonesians staying at the hostel (In fact probably there were more Indonesians here than foreigners) who were here on holiday.

I started talking to strangers as you do and eventually consumed about 4 or 5 shots of this clear liquid which was stored inside a plastic drink bottle.



‘Ronald is drinking it and he can still see me so it must be legit’.  - My claim substantiated by the fact that I have managed to type this up. (It’s very difficult/ impossible to type when you’re blind or dead from methanol poisoning).

“Very strong” they say

“Very sweet!”  I reply, with a big grin on my face.



“Last week there was a German girl who also said that it tasted very sweet. She had about 5 shots and then vomited past this balustrade and out onto the roof below”



---



Sky Garden



Sky Garden is a massive three floor nightclub with a buffet restaurant at the top. I’m not a lady and so I have to pay to get in. Entry ranges from 100,000rp - 200,000rp ($10-20 NZD*) depending on the time of night.  The walls here have a black glossy lacquer-like finish and there are many stairs. 

Just like that one time I went to the ‘Empire’ nightclub in Christchurch NZ (on the wrong night) there was probably around a 60:40 ratio of male to female or maybe  50:50 at best. Unlike ‘Empire’ however, about half the people here are SE Asian, and the the definition of smart casual includes a pair of Vans canvas sneakers, shorts and a white t shirt.



Walking back to the hostel in Kuta at around 12:00am, I noticed the local neighbourhood hawkers had changed their wares in response to the changing nature of the current environment.



“Bro do you need some viagra?”



(*Currency conversion as of July 2018)

My ears! The Earplugs do nothing!!

Bali - First Impressions

I arrived at Bali sometime before 18:00 local time, after a 7 ½ hour flight plus an additional 40 or so minutes of circling the ocean just outside the airport



Upon leaving the international airport I was immediately bombarded by unsolicited offers for taxi rides. Today I learned a lot about myself - what sort of person I am and what my breaking point is for a accepting a taxi ride.



I guess I am a fresh off the plane naive-but-cashed-up New Zealander who was basically born yesterday - evident in the fact that I accepted the offer after being followed 50 metres.  In hindsight I realised I paid about double what I could have. (Even by NZ standards I reckon this was quite expensive) The ride probably took 30 minutes but we only covered about 2km. Shoulda caught a scooter ride.



Using a compass most of the way I miraculously made it from central Kuta to my hostel - Sweaty as fuck due to wearing 3 layers.



Walking through the streets of Kuta at night was a sensory overload; a combination of trying to find my way to the hostel, avoiding potholes, scooters, and unsolicited offers, all whilst taking in the vibrant and somewhat quirky urban squalor.



The hostel is ok. I’m actually quite shocked at how poor the build quality is. You know how when the floor of your room resembles your driveway back home in New Zealand but somehow manages to look even more shit.

The Indonesian guests and staff who seem to outnumber the foreigners also don’t seem to understand the concept of ‘day time voices’ and ‘night time voices’. I’m actually sitting there typing this up at half past 12 at night because I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because some people think it’s ok to suddenly start having hilarious phone conversations at 11pm. Some people also think it’s ok to burst into the room at around the same time and start a conversation - a loud one.



The wifi is slow and cuts out intermittently




I sound like such an old white person right now.

Christchurch in the day time

I think Christchurch is one of those cities (most would call it a small town) in which the level of foot traffic actually peaks at 10pm-12am on a Friday night after which point it dramatically deflates down to a handful of tourists and construction workers during daylight hours of the typical weekday.

During my last days in Christchurch, I took the time to take a walk around the central city to document the city at this particular stage in time.

Take note of the fact that the streets are basically devoid of any human life.

Why did I take these photos?
I knew that in some point in the future I would look back at these and say either two things:

"What a desolate hole, I'm glad I left that cold, grey-skied ass crack of the world"
or
"What a peaceful paradise. I liked it didn't intermittently smell like shit and I could walk down the road without 30% of the population persistently trying to offer me unsolicited goods and services"

What is it?

I thought I’d begin by taking the time to explain a little bit about me, what exactly this is and what I intend on doing.

I’ve always considered myself a boring person who lived quite a non-eventful life.  It always seemed to me that there were other people out there who managed to pack way more into a month than I could in twelve.

I’ve recently come to realise that things don’t necessarily have to be the way they are. Behaviour patterns and self perceptions are powerful determining forces in our lives but they can be broken if one really wants to change. It had never occurred to me that perhaps the only thing stopping me from doing something was myself and the beliefs I held.

I don’t think I had really ever questioned them before.

Who was I,what was I doing, and what do I really want to do?

All tough questions.

I guess it doesn’t hurt to begin the process by starting with broad terms and directions.

If adventure, spontaneity and personal growth are what you seek, then quitting your job and travelling overseas on a one way ticket with no concrete plan is one way to achieve all three at the same time.

I don’t intend my escapade to be simply a holiday but rather an entire ‘adventure’ segment of my life.

This blog is essentially a space for me to collect my thoughts, observations and even a few photographs.

It’s part novel, part travel documentation, part journal.

This could get interesting.

😎