When you land in Bali, the plane taxis to the gate. You disembark the airplane down stairs and into a shuttle bus. The shuttle bus takes you to immigration where all visitors are required to buy a visa at 25 USD each. Good thing they accept US currency, and good thing I had 50 bucks, because I didn’t have a MasterCard on me–the only card accepted by the Indonesian government. (Note to self: bring every type of card you can think of when traveling to obscure lands).

Once we got the whole visa thing squared away, it was time to think in thousands and millions. At the ATM I was initially taken aback when it told me I’d be charged 20,000 IDR for this transaction. Whaaat!?!?!? Cancel transaction, take a step back, and check the currency converter app. $2.11. Ok, good. I was supplied with ten 100,000 IDR bills. Now we had to figure out how to get to the hotel.

You are corralled out through the customs bag check down a hallway with 15 or 20 currency exchange counters. The clerks are waving to try and conjure up business. Unlucky for them, we already had our hand in the money. Turn the corner and there are what seems like hundreds of drivers with every name known to mankind printed on their plate. But no Scott which we could have predicted.

So anyway, we found the cab stand which had predefined rates set for each area on Bali. Kuta cost 55,000 IDR. “Pay your driver,” and the cab master handed me my slip. Then we followed two guys: one who rolled our bag for us; and the other who was leading us to his car. This wasn’t like NYC or Vegas. This was Bali. 4 minutes later we made it to the car.

I handed the bag boy 100,000 IDR because I didn’t have anything smaller. I then asked for change. I know I’d probably never get away with that in the US, but I got back what I asked for: 50,000. The baggy got a sweet deal, seeing that the cabbie was only slated to make 5k more. So at least now I had a 50k note in my pocket. Still 5k short of where I needed to be for the cab.

But I heard that you’re supposed to haggle. So maybe I could get out of 5k to the driver. But that didn’t seem just to me. The baggy and cabby get the same thing?

We hit the road which was loaded with 2-wheeled motorized vehicles. There was a good amount of traffic. But the noticeable difference in this place was the road. Narrow, lined with shops, busy.

Finally at Dekuta hotel, the “security guard” took our bag to the front desk. Meanwhile, the driver wanted to get paid. “Change? Do you have change?” “No.” Well its eaither the 50k or 100k and I didn’t want to overpay. To the hotel front desk for change then. I gave the driver 60k and thanked him for getting us there safely.

The whole security guard thing was weird. Maybe it was because there was no door into the hotel. Everything here is open.

We checked in at the hotel desk. The same security guard escorted us up to our 3rd floor room with a lookout to the infinity pool. I handed him 10k (which amounts to roughly one USD) and left with a big smile.

Shortly after settling down, we left for dinner. With no idea where to go, we just started walking until we got to the main strip. The main strip is like Bourbon Street with motor traffic and without the beads. People outside inviting you into their club, restaurant and store. As two tired suckers, we landed ourselves in The Macaroni Club. Sounded close to home. And looked western enough. I think with the aforementioned culture shock it was nice to feel more “normal.” They had TVs running ESPN’s coverage of the Olympics and outdoor furniture like you’d find at Crate and Barrel.

Brianna ordered margarita pizza and I got a chicken stir fry dish. Both were well presented and good.

The bill came out to around 26k. Probably more on the expensive side for what we could get but I was happy paying it. The waitress short changed us 500 IDR so I didn’t leave any extra tip on principle (they include a 10% service charge on the bill). She didn’t seem happy about having to bring us change in the first place. Even though it wasn’t a lot of change I wanted to see what the rest of the currency looked like. Sorry, waitress.

It was then I think it struck me how poor and desperate the local people are.

Walking back to the hotel we realized that there were “security guards” everywhere. Whether they’re legit or not, I don’t know. They might be there to keep the rowdy Aussies in line. We didn’t see any harmful behavior even though they’re obnoxious.

We were in bed by 11 resting up for our first daylight in Bali.