Bali. The Place Where Dreams Are Made. (The Nightmare Variety...)

Before I start, I would like to establish a complete and utter distinction between Bali and the Gili Islands. Although I spent a few days of this particular trip on the Gilis, I in no way associate that time with the time I spent in Bali itself. The Gili Islands are a whole other story - one that's being saved for another time! This post is about Bali, and Bali only....

From the taxi driver who snatched 100,000 Rupees from my hand, to the food which made me horribly ill. The bus driver who promised that he'd take me from Padang Bai to Seminyak, (then proceeded to ditch me in the middle of nowhere - a three hour walk from my next destination,) and the hostel owners who nearly doubled the room price after my online booking didn't go through. The fact that my foot got infected (although arguably, that was the fault of the the Croatian sea urchins, and nothing to do with Bali...) and the device that someone had slyly attached to an ATM which proceeded to clone two of my bank cards, leaving me with absolutely NO money at all on my last day after both my English and Australian banks decided to cancel the cards that got done over by Bali's answer to George Agdgdgwngo. It's safe to say that a large portion of the dislike that is contained in my mental capacity, is reserved for Bali.

George Agdgdgwngo. Pic stolen from BBC. (Ta!) Also, Fonejacker is now TEN years old. Terrifying.

George Agdgdgwngo. Pic stolen from BBC. (Ta!) Also, Fonejacker is now TEN years old. Terrifying.

Now, I'm sure that Bali is actually a really lovely place which is filled with really lovely people, and only really nice things ever happen there, and everyone who visits gets merry on Bintang and then dances off into the sunset whilst laughing and joking and holding hands and admiring how lovely Bali is, and what a wonderful holiday they've had. It just so happens, that I had an absolutely horrendous time whilst I was there, and couldn't wait to leave.

So, of course my flight would be delayed by precisely twenty two hours, giving me what I would basically class as an entire extra day in 'paradise.' It was at this moment, whilst verging on tears, that I discovered that my bank cards had been cancelled, and even if there had been any money left in my account to fund an extra days worth of food, accommodation and ice cream, I sure as hell didn't have any access to it. I phoned Jetstar to see if they could help me out, and they kindly offered me a $50 voucher, to put towards a future Jetstar flight. Unfortunately, neither hostels, restaurants or ice cream shops accept 'Jetstar vouchers' as payment, so all the voucher really succeeded in doing was making me angry enough to sit in the humidity with my bag, and kick things for a bit.

Made friends with a little book cat though.

Made friends with a little book cat though.

After quite a lot of kicking, I realised that there was no apparent positive outcome from doing such a thing, and instead used the last of my phone credit to direct my anger towards a rather unfortunate Jetstar employee, who in fairness, did a pretty good job of sorting me out with a private hostel room for the night, and sending me $30 worth of food money. It speaks volumes to me that my favourite day in Bali ended up being the one where I got to lock myself into an air conditioned room that I didn't pay for, listening to Coldplay and eating Indonesian snacks that I also didn't pay for.

Finally, the big day arrived and it was time to leave. The email from Jetstar stated we needed to be at the airport for 3:30am. I arrived at about 3:28am, keen to get on the plane and buggar off, never to return again. But alas! The airport was not open until 4:30am - which gave me a whole extra hour to dwell on the week and slowly work my way towards breaking point. I eventually stepped onto the plane, excited to set myself down in the window seat I had specifically booked so I could sleep the whole way home. The man in my seat smiled at me as I double checked my ticket against the seat number.

'I think you're in my seat.' I said.

'Yeah.' He said.

'So, can I please sit there?' I said.

'Nah, I'm going to sit here.' He said.

I thought about calling the hostess to 'tell on' the arrogant Australian man who was refusing to move from my seat, but decided that because I'd have to sit next to him for six hours afterwards, it was maybe in my best interests to just let my window seat go.

Unfortunately, with my window seat, I also sacrificed the privilege of sleeping, as the lady in the middle seat obviously had some form of bladder issues and needed the toilet every thirty eight seconds. I may as well have just joined the cabin crew in helping to serve drinks for the amount of time I spent stood up. As sleep was out of the question, I thought that it might be a good idea to pick a nice film to watch. My screen obstinately remained black, as I looked around the plane at everybody else's, which were of course all in perfect working order.

'Yes, this one is broken.' The hostess exclaimed, a bit too cheerily.

It took everything in my power to not scream the whole plane down....

Top banter at the airport though.

Top banter at the airport though.