Bali Bombings

The creepy thing is that I remember that Raja's restaurant in downtown Kuta so distinctly. I remember passing the restaurant and perusing its menu. That was the point when we decided that it was expensive and we moved on to a similar establishment a few doors away. They cater mainly to the expatriate crowd, selling Caucasian-ised versions of local food and burgers, steaks and salads. And beer. Lots of beer. Water droplets spritze from vents in the ceiling to lend some coolness to the hot humid Bali weather. I also remember the various clothing shops down the strip at downtown Kuta. It's a very small road. Shops are stacked close to each other. But the square is one of the most populated places at any time of day.

I also remember Jimbaran, where we had the overpriced and overrated seafood. But the ambience was beautiful. Chairs and tables planted on the sand and overlooking the beautiful waves. But the waves were loud and tended to drown out conversation. I also can remember the conversations all of us had that balmy night. I think it was a Thursday. And we later walked down the beach to walk off that seafood dinner.

Bali was a disaster. I had diarrhoea, we missed our flight, we got threatened by a shopkeeper... But it still doesn't deserve this. The poor people just keep getting poorer. Now I recognise and know a few faces there, like Din the guy who taught me surfing, and his 'pimp'. Or the random people who sold me things or who made small talk. I wonder what has happened to them?