Kuta, Bali - day 1

I woke up at 10 this morning, surprised by my alarm and wondering why I had even set it. I don’t remember what time I went to bed. I don’t remember if I brushed my teeth, but I vaguely remember leaving the key in the door even though I couldn’t lock it that way, for lack of a better place to put it.

I had black shit all over my feet this morning. That was nasty, but not surprising. Walking home from the club last night or should I say stumbling down the main drag, thinking I’m going the right direction until nothing looked familiar. Poppies II? I mumble to some blurry people. They motion behind me. Oops, too far. I trudge on. I’m sure I’m not alone, but I am in this instant, this place in time. More drunks will follow in my footsteps as I followed in theirs. It must be quite interesting to watch the parade of idiots find their way home on a sober night in Kuta. I might have to try that.

Went to bed with my feet like this. Yes!!

But who could not drink in a place like this? Well, actually maybe me if this headache lasts all day. For now, however, I can accept it. It was fun and worth it. It didn’t cost much. Beers here are probably the cheapest I’ve seen thus far in Indonesia. I had an early one with dinner at the same price as the convenience store. And then later, at a small watering hole, I had another for not much more than that. And talked to folks from Thailand, Korea, Russia and Australia. This is like school I thought, but more engaging, more interesting. Traveling brings the world together.

Somebody mentioned the club. I can’t remember the name. Sky Garden? Four floors of craziness. And starting at ten o’clock they had free drinks for an hour. Did somebody say free? I had to go. The Australian guy was pounding one at the bar and taking one for the road. They were a lot of drinks and a lot of people. And then we wandered outside to the deck. Or was it a terrace? An outside sitting area? And then we went back inside. And back out. In and out. Repeat again.

And then we danced. Somebody gave me a beer and I remember making my way to the front and seeing some throbbing Indonesian bodies in bikinis. They were blurry, but nice. Wow, I might stay here for a minute. I wonder if anybody will notice me looking. Nah, probably not. The Thai guy motioned to go downstairs. I think the drinks special was finished. I was finished.

There was a small area on the top floor that smelled like vomit. Every time I went inside or back outside I could smell it. I think it was the area immediately outside the bathroom. That makes the most sense. But I can occasionally still smell it now and that’s weird cause I’m pretty sure I don’t smell like vomit. And I know I didn’t puke last night. A lot of people probably did though.

Anyway, back to the story. We made our way back downstairs. Every fifteen minutes there was a different drink special. And a big LED sign on the wall counting down the minutes. 20,000 IDR for 2 shots of some concoction. Basically a dollar a drink. I was done, but ok, twist my arm, I’ll drink another. And I had to reciprocate so I bought the next round. I wanted to try the next special - somehow this was all strangely appealing - but my drinking partner wanted another of the same beverage. So in the last 30 seconds I got ‘my order’ in, they were poured and in less than a second they were gone.

I snuck away shortly after that. At least I think I did. It’s not really sneaking away at that point. It’s more like wandering away and then realizing you’re alone and there’s nowhere to go but home. Isn’t that the name of a movie? Or a book? Nowhere to go but home. I can’t remember. Drinking makes you stupid.

I don’t know how people do it. Drinking so much. Moderation I can handle, but until the wee hours of the morning I cannot. I suppose if the drinks were not free and the company was good, there would be some incentive to do that. Or I suppose if I had a higher tolerance for alcohol, but I’m glad that I don’t. Free drinks and the party is over before it has even started. It’s going to be a slow day today. I feel like I was the last one up this morning, but I’m sure there are still some people sleeping. Right?

I’m sitting in the breakfast area of my hotel. A beautiful pool sits in the middle. I will be in that pool later. The hotel has free breakfast, which I was happy to indulge in at 10:45 this morning. A banana pancake, fruit salad and some tea – hold the banana. I don’t care so much for a free breakfast, but it was nice for the sole reason that I didn’t have to go anywhere else to get it.

Anyway, the point of this aside is that they provide free breakfast, but they don’t provide towels. Initially I was a little irritated, but c’mon man! I think they’re in cahoots with the all the people selling the cheap Bintang  or 'I love Bali' towels. That’s the only way anybody would buy them. So I inquired and somebody says 100,000. I laugh, ok 50,000 they say. I’m not paying $5 for a cheap, ugly towel. It’s only worth $2 to me. I do have one, a small quick-dry backpacking towel, but it’s in the laundry.

So this morning, I woke up without a towel. I’ll just air dry, I thought. And then after doing that for a minute, I eyed my boxers on the floor. That’ll do. Just don’t dry yourself with the ass part, I thought. That would make me feel dirty all over again. I picked up the boxers and then in a moment of clarity, I decided to gander in my pack. I don’t know why because virtually all of my clothes are getting laundered. But lo and behold, there was a small hand towel, a sweat rag if you will and it was clean. I dropped the boxers and quickly dried myself off. It’s the small things in life. A smooth start to a new day.