Above: The view from our room in Munduk - a tiny town in the coffee growing area of Bali.
My goal for the trip was to give Linds a look at many different sides of the place. Most Australain yuppies think of Bali as totally spoiled - nothing but bogans and yobbos - and forget that there are cities and coasts completely devoid of tourists.
And I had fallen into that trap a bit too. On the night that Linds came in, I went down to Kuta early to look for a "Michelle Obama Sweater." It was a total bust - hot, dirty, touristy, expensive, nothing there. And so I decided to throw in the towel and walk north towards Legian on the beach - at least among the development the sea, just beyond sunset, was beautiful.
Above: Divers and worshipers head over to Menjangan Island.
And like those Bali moments that keep people captivated, after a couple of minutes of walking, my path was interrupted by a column, perhaps about six people deep but extending for at least three hundred yards, of Balinese worshipers dressed in white crossing from the sea's edge, across the width of the beach, to the streets of Kuta. They carried gold and white umbrellas and were followed by the marching-band equivalent of a gamalan orchestra - each of the gongs and 'xylophones' rigged up over the players' shoulders.
I followed them as onto the main street where the ceremonial umbrellas bobbing under signs for Roxy, Billabong and KFC. It was good to catch that scent again - to be sucked back in.
