Ok, this is my last Bali story.

After Padang Bai we made our way to Ubud, Bali's centre for cultural tourism. On the surface, it seemed more or less like Kuta: lobster-tanned tourists, hawkers, wild dogs and hot, hot heat. But Kuta is up in the mountains, surrounded by rice paddies and palm plantations. The hawkers weren't as cut throat, and they were selling better stuff. Sure, there was still a lot of one-dollar watches, but there was also some nice paintings and woodcarvings, woven furniture and traditional ikat sarong.

We went to a Balinese dance in Ubud. It lasted about an hour-and-a-half, and had some incredible music and dancing. They used traditional instruments, a lot of xylophones and drums, to make this hypnotic music. The first part of the dance was semi-religious, with a priest acting out some kind of purification ritual. The second part was a love story, where the hero was killed by someone who tried to steal the girl, but not before he was brought back to life by some mean looking characters. It was a really great show, and a big part of why people go to Bali - for the culture. Unfortunately I don't know anything about Balinese culture, only that it is really complex, mixing Hindu, Buddhist and animist philosophies together with traditional island fables and lore.

The next day we left for the resort part of Kuta, to relax and not deal with hawkers for a while. We just wanted to hang out by a pool, and maybe go to a club. But then we remembered that the Indonesion election was in three days, and that Bali had already been the site of a huge terrorist attack. So we decided not to go. Which makes me a little bit mad, now that I think of it. It's stupid how this 'terrorism' business is part of our pysche now. Obviously the threat exists, as Spain is still under high alert. But really, how much of a threat is it? Is it worth it, not doing what you want to do, in essence giving up a little bit of freedom? Then again, how important is a night out at a club, if it means getting blown to smithereens? We decided to stay at the hotel that night, get up early the next morning and go surfing.

What a gong show that was. We negotiated a deal with some kid on the beach. He promised us a lesson, but then when we got in the ocean and he just went suring, while me and Nancy struggled with the current. About the only lesson we got was when he told us not to float to Java. Thanks tips.

Back on shore I found out the fin had disappeared from my board. We told him we weren't going to pay, at which point his buddy came down and threw a crap. After a lot of talk about bosses and this being their country, I finally gave them five dollars, but not before Nancy jinxed our 'instructor' with some bad luck, and I told the friend that the money was bad luck money, which is a big deal for them because all money is 'good luck money'. Whenever they get some, they touch everything in sight, for good luck. So we felt a little better, knowing that they would have bad luck for the rest of the day.

After surfing, it was time to get ready to go. And now here I am.

Sank you berry muchi.