Is Bogainville PNG or Indonesian?

From Port Moresby I returned to Australia for a night before flying to Bali, Indonesia to visit Simon Roos-Freeman in his abroad abode. Brisbane was good, I got to see some of my family including my cousin's wife and their pre-12 month old daughter. Toddlers, it seems, has become theme of trip. Unfortunately for the new additions to the Gatt family hey had to endure the time old tradition of the family of us getting rip-roaring drunk when we get together.

Rudolph leaving Australia not sure when he will return. He is excited about the travels ahead and about finding a climate more reindeer friendly.

Surprisingly, flying to Indo did not raise any moments of regret at leaving Australia, just a sense of excitement with a twist of anxiety at the possibility of someone slipping some contraband into my bodyboard case. The anxiety was exacerbated upon arrival at Indo customs due to the prolific signage warning of the dire consequences of smuggling. Fortunately I do not possess a bodyboard bag and I had a scapereindeer. Getting a lift to Sim's place was somewhat more eventful, with my can driver continually trying to change our agreed upon, even going as far as insisting we had settled upon $100 not 100 000 rupiah (equivalent to $10). He even threatened to drop me off in the middle of the street if I didn't agree. His small talk consisted of making wanking motions while discussing the finer points of the fairer sex. Thanks to Jimmy D for warning me about this!

This is Made (pronounced Ma-de), he is a private driver who lives next door to Sim. We enlisted his services for a day which was much better than using the taxis. Awesome bloke, super funny, and the best driver in Bali.

Sim lives in Sanur, a place which seems overrun with expatriates. His villa is pretty awesome - two bedrooms, each with an ensuite (equipped with bidets), marble floors, pool, and outdoor cooking and dining. I settled in by tucking into a 60 cent lunch and a $2.50 long neck.

The Bali bombing memorial. Sim and I were surprised at the number of victims.

The day I arrived was the beginning of a Bali festival called Nyepi in which massive models of demons are paraded through towns and villages during the evening. They are later burnt and then the entire population of the island lock themselves inside their houses. No one is allowed outside from approximately midnight until 6 am the next day (30 hours). There is to be minimal noise and no lights. The following day the Balinese offer forgiveness to those who have wronged the past year. Sim had arranged for our lockdown to be at his friends place. So we watched the parade of the Ogoh-Ogoh (demons). They truly were monstrous, but phenomenally detailed, apparently the Balinese spend months making them. From there we went to Eric's where we stayed for the next day with his wife, father and two kids (more toddlers, of course).

This was the only decent picture I got of the parade. All the models were of similar awesome detail and consisted of a monster and a combination of the following: some type of transport been ridden dangerously, like a bicycle or foodcart; a hero or heros fighting it off, and/or a damsel in distress. Some of the Ogah-Ogah has large and very visible sexual organs on display. Usually malformed breasts but one saucy demon had a less-than-appetising vagina on show. It was enough to scare you crooked.

It was a delightful 30 hours. We went swimming ate awesome Indian-style 'sloppy joes' (Eric's wife is indian) and denpoo waffles, and drank beer, and vodka. We discussed the finer points of science, philosophy, WWII, and model helicopters.

Rudolph soaks up some rays at Eric's. We spent most of the day in or around the pool. Fate giggled after hearing my brazen claim about rarely burning.

At night the stars were out in force, their gentle glow no longer drowned out by Balinese lights. By the time our enforced lockdown I was quite refreshed and ready for my last full day in Indonesia. Sim, my host, did not disappoint.

Any day that ends with photo like this could never be disappointing.

The first order of business was transport, we were going to drink so we were not driving ourselves. Fortunately, Made was available and for a mere $50 we had a chauffeur for the day. For some reason an Indian couple who had booked his services decided to go with another driver. Their loss was our gain and we quickly snapped him and his car.

Komodo Dragons! Hunting styles include waiting for tourists to drop cameras into their enclosure and mauling them when they retrieve it and waiting for James Bond to throw villains in their general direction.

We visited a bird and reptile park that had a bird of prey show, Komodo dragons, and crocs. We visiting the site of the Bali bombing and strolled across a beach. We ate Italian food Bali-style at a warung (a cross between a buffet and a sushi train), smashed some late night pizza and gelato, and most importantly, enjoyed some cocktails at beach bar while watching the sunset. Sim - consider me wooed.

The photo describes the evening better than I ever could. Potato Head, while been a pricey (comparatively) venue, is worth every penny

For anyone following closely you may have realised that thus far I had only eaten one local meal (multiple Indian and Italian, however) but was yet to try the local cuisine of nasi goreng. This travesty could not stand and my final meal, breakfast on the day I left was the signature fried rice dish of Indonesia.

This was enjoyed with a fresh lime and orange juice. The juice was so awesome I had two.

Bali is great, but it would be awesome if it was not packed full of Aussie bogans. The vibe of the touristy areas was similar to that of a Saturday night after the footy.

Rudolph farewells Bali in the international airport.