It's a fine bike. Beaches, patience and perspective.

Much zooming around with Gloria has ensued in the last two weeks. 

Mostly to coffee houses to use wi-fi and enjoy a hot beverage not processed by a wild cat. Every weekend is a lovely break out to sunshine away from the fluoro-prison they call work. In to the mountains, down to even further beaches and around some rather immaculate roundabouts. Roundabouts here are the most well-kept piece of infrastructure on this island. Great painted concrete and gold leaf trimmed statues surrounded by blooming flowers in pastel shades adorn the junctions while hundreds of bikes and cars belch and puff around them. 

As I left Denpasar for Ubud, two kindly Policemen bestowed upon me a fine. Twice, and in the space of twenty minutes. There is a stretch of the main bypass between Kuta and and Sanur which is rife for catching tourists, and if you haggle, or in my case plead and beg, you can get away without paying the full 250,0000 RP fine. The fact that this is even possible goes to show it goes straight in someone's back pocket, because they're not even bothered about getting the right money. Corruption ladies and gentlemen, the cousin of poorly paid government officials. 

Kuta to Padang Padang

It takes about an hour to drive to this lovely little beach from the mouth of hell. As you leave Jimbaran and follow the signs to Uluwatu, the road starts to transform in a building site. Half-started development upon development sit next to garish plastic billboards and giant signs promise a tourists' mecca to come.

Infiltration at the beach

I don't doubt that tourism is a huge economic drive for Bali, but it's such a shame that it has to come at the expense of the island's natural landscapes and wildlife. Most beaches here, especially during this wet season, are covered in rubbish and littered with bodies. As much as I also love a good temple, it also seems a bit vulgar that their largest, most historic and spiritual places of worship, the ones that are the most characteristically Balinese, have become glorified tourist sights. Hawker stalls line the exit and entry to Tanah Lot among others, and although it's similar in many other major religious attractions, such as Angkor Wat, this is a new scale of cheap consumerism indoctrination.

Which brings me back to Padang Padang and the Russian little shit terrorising my personal space and anyone else nearby. Flicking sand on me as he traipses back and forth with dead coral for his mother while he winges at the top of his voice. I thought he was going to drop it on me at one point. Little scamp. Judging by the amount of fully clothed locals and monkeys hiding in the cliffs, and the proximity to Uluwatu, I wondered if this beach has some holy significance.

The beach itself is gorgeous. Yellow sands, bright blue turquoise seas that I haven't seen since Thailand. (Most shallow water looks quite dark here as many of the beaches are a dark volcanic sand). Maybe it's the high concentration of surfers nestled in the waves and in the seated crowd lining the shore, but the vibe here is quite relaxed, there's something a bit Thai, maybe even a bit North Devonshire about it. The walk down the steep cliff steps and the long, right peeling break flowing

Resident cliff Monkey at Padang Padang

smoothly does seem to add to it. The green back roads coming up to Padang Padang remind me of Woolacombe, North Devon. As you climb the hill, the air becomes cooler underneath pockets of shade from the trees along the road and the lack of traffic hints at the undisturbed countryside. The trees are guarding the roadside and pavements have been abolished! Fresher air, fewer cars and great big coaches clogging up small roads- distinctly Devon!

On the beach, as I was about to write some existential rubbish about hating work, the tide barreled in to the beach to sweep away my bag containing my iPad and camera. I hastily avoided the wave and following shit-storm that would have meant. It was as if Mother Nature was saying 'Oi Dickhead, you should be more concerned with the fact you parked yourself too close to the water!'

Point taken, time to look around at where I am. A group of fishermen are silhouetted, sitting out on a huge rock near to where the wave dissipates. There are tourists and beaten tracks for a reason.

Surfers line up to rip