At 10am I was supposed to be meeting a Wayan to go to those falls he was telling me about last night.
True, I was 10 minutes late, but waited for half an hour. Neither he nor Chris and Joe, my Amerian brothers who’d come aswell, showed.
I ask around a bit, but when I ask for Wayan they go “Which one, we have many Wayan…”
As I lay on the beach writing a bit one of those waves goes as deep as the end of the beach and wipes me and and everything else away. Ketut Pari and his son help me to lay all my stuff out to dry in the sun and give me a piece of paper so I can continue writing anyway. They tell me the ocean is acting this crazy because of black moon.
Since yesterday I’ve been having some tummycramps again. I thought it might have something to do with the previous nights arak, but it wasn’t anywhere near as much as I had the first night here. Maybe it’s because of the ice Mario poured some cola on for me yesterday. It looked dodgy but I couldn’t be as rude as to refuse him.
When Mario asks if you want a drink he means to buy you one. He’s a little special, but he means all well.
For example, he’s invented himself a job: cleaning the beach, and takes it very serious too. He’s brought a little snorkling kit today and has a little net with which he takes the rubbish out of that too.
When I was walking down the street and as it goes all the time with the men asking “You need transport, yes?” and the women “You need sarong, yes?”, one guy shouted after me “Where you going? Where you from? What’s your name? How long are you in Padangbai?” So I say back “No thank you, I’m just walking, I’m going to the beach, my name is Merel and I’m from Holland.” as I find it rude not to give them any sort of reply. The nice thing of staying in one place a little longer is that they start recognising you and that loosens the nuisance.
In Dutch, he replies “Van Nederland? Oh kom hier!” -From Holland? Come over, talk to me!- Now that’d be a pretty rude way to speak to a random person in the street, back in the western world, and no one would actually respond to that. But I figured, why not? So I walk back and chat a bit. His Dutch is really good. He used to live in Alkmaar, and he wants to go back, but is putting it off due to the recession. It’s funny to hear a Balinese say that, isn’t it?
Again, Chris and Joe do show up, but again, very late. They had a hard time this morning as last nigh got very late, again.
So we’re playing Frisbee a bit, when it gets lost in the whitewash. I though it’d be no problem; it will come floating up again. But everyone comes rushing in to find it like crazy! Apearently it’s been lost like this a few times before, got buried under the sand. It’s very funny to see everyone running in, looking around, then the Frisbee showing up 10 meters further and everyone running over there just too late; another wash came in and took the Frisbee away again, the ocean continuing this game a few times. And when it’s finally caught the entire beach chearing at the finder.
After all that running we sit down at Pari and play cards, a game called General, with Wayan –a different one; the Pari son- Wayan –yet another; they do have many Wayan!- the Pari daughter, Nyoman -the sarong/massage girl we’ve befriended, such a sweetheart- Chris, Joe and me. They don’t explain any rules to us, and there is no way we’re following them the first hour, and it seems like they keep changing every round, but it’s hilarious!
It’s a calm evening. After dinner at Martini I join Hayley and Thomas for a cocktail at Buddhabars happy hour. That’s from 8pm till 10pm, and at 9.45 the staff is done cleaning the bar and everything so turn off the lights… We hadn’t even finished our glasses, but figure we’re supposed to leave.
Thus, satu lagi, banyak lagi and the obvious shot of arak at Sunshine.
Live is at Kinky Reggae bar tonight so I head over there and find Joe sitting outside with some locals celebrating a birthday. It’s so great how the locals here are so welcoming and draw each traveller that stays for more than a day in with them. I join the party for a bit, share a glass in the Balinese round even though I shouldn’t with that fever I feel coming up, and hear the funniest, randomest thing when I tell I’m Dutch: Eka replies “Ik heb geen snor.” Something some passer-by once taught him. It means ‘I have no mustache’ and I laugh my ass off.
However, with the hot/cold flashes not being tempered by the beer I call it an early night.
When I get home I take my temperature just to make sure and read 39.3. I wake up at 4am and check again; 38.2. By now my throat, neck and whole body are feeling very sore and I’m afraid I won’t make the planned trip tomorrow, but manage to fall asleep again.