Reggie Thomson’s Diary

The mosque woke me at 4.30, continuing to drone until about 5.15. It had been 5.30 when I first came, because my watch was an hour out. My feet are still sore, with the left one slightly swollen. I think I have probably bruised it, rather than anything more serious. Still, I’m not sure why I am walking barefoot, rather than buying a pair of flip-flops for 5000rp. Why should I punish myself for the sins of others? Worse, I am punishing the kind, generous and honest people I meet while hitching - by making a statement about the type of people they come from. When I photograph beauty, I take the trouble not to draw attention to the litter that so often spoils the view. Perhaps I should also hide the ugliness of human nature.

I had banana pancake for breakfast, and continued typing. There was something funny with the D: drive on the computer - the old File Manager wouldn’t recognise it. I had to Defrag again. I also rearranged the files on my disk, putting the photos onto the G: drive.

Rudy asked if he could come in around midday. I showed him my photos. He comes from Kalimantan, and was staying in Kuta for 35,000rp per day. However, someone had a duplicate key to his room, and stole all his money. For five days he was sleeping in toilets and looking for work, until he came here. He doesn’t know how much he will be paid. I ate Nasi Campur and fruit salad at the hotel - they have a menu here, so I was able to read that the price of the fruit salad is only 1,500. Well, never mind.

In the afternoon, I decided not to walk to the Wartel, but continued to type up my diary. I went to the shop next door, hobbling with my swollen left foot. The toilet roll costs 2,000rp, but is better quality. I noticed some sandals in the shop, but didn’t buy them. I also bought an ice-cream. The lady didn’t have 300rp in coins, so reached into a sweet jar, a big smile appearing over her face. It’s a pity that the ladies in the supermarket at Ubud hadn’t done the same. First they shortchanged me by about 800rp, then they started giving me the sweets. When I started paying the pennies (100rp) by returning the sweets, they looked annoyed, but accepted it. From then on, they gave me coins.

Getting bored with the typing, I started reading another book - The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan. It kept me amused all evening. However, again the last page is missing, but I can guess the rest of the story. I ate fried noodles in the hotel. There was a strange buzzing noise all afternoon. Rudy explained that it was something like a kite, which children fly, and probably won’t continue into the evening.

Sleep was not as good as desired. For a start, this bed, unlike the one I checked next door, was hard, and with no second bed, I couldn’t double the mattresses. Furthermore, it was nippy, and without a second bed, there’s no second sheet. To add to all this, the baby next door woke me at 1 a.m. 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. I then slept in until eight to make up for it.

The lady brought me some fruit salad and a green pancake. It seemed to taste the same, but I wondered what went into it. I wrote to Jonathan as I ate, explaining that my current salary will last until November, if I am careful how I spend it. By that stage I will be in Europe and have access to my company’s bank account. I’m not sure whether a travel photographer is permitted to exist in his picture of the world.

Breakfast finished, it was time to go to the Wartel. Just a minute, where are my shoes? I had left them outside my door, as I usually do, so as not to bring soil onto the tiles in the room (though they are often dirty). I feel it is part of respect for the culture, and in the last hotel, I’d just left them all outside. Tony leaves quite a lot of stuff on the porch outside his house. No! They have gone. I looked inside the room, but to no avail. Someone had stolen them.

I was inclined to believe that the owner had spotted them and stolen them. I went round, demanding to know where he had put them. He denied everything, but came over to look. “There are many, many people who come past this way. People come to collect the rubbish and the plastic bottles. Many people. There is no gate at the entrance.” I disliked what I felt were his lies - I hadn’t seen “many” people come past. I was disinclined to believe him. He offered to buy me some sandals, but I am not going to accept anything from someone I don’t trust. If someone comes to collect bottles and rubbish, surely such a person is known to the owner of a hotel. If there are untrustworthy people around a hotel, isn’t it worth telling the patrons to take care. I gave up. Whether or not he was party to this, I was very upset, and started to pack my bags. I noted that he had made no suggestions for what to do to retrieve them, though I guess going to the police would be a waste of time and money.

I left without saying goodbye, walking barefoot from the hotel. First, I went to the Wartel to send my emails. Then I called in on Tony. “You were right,” I said. “It wasn’t safe in other hotels. I’ve just lost my shoes.” He was sorry to hear it, and sorry that I was leaving.

I started walking barefoot. It’s not so sore, though I have to look carefully where I go. Now I am becoming more like a monk, denying myself, even putting myself in pain or danger, for the sake of, well, I’m not sure what.

A car waved me over. He nodded when I asked if he was going to Gianyar or Denpasar - he was on his cell phone at the time. It turned out that he was an architect, going to visit his home near Sanur. In his spare time, he was a dancer, often performing at temples. I showed him a selection of photos. He asked me to wait in the car for ten minutes outside his house. I wonder why people trust me. Another gentleman appeared, and clambered into the back. Then we drove to the Sanur bemo. It would only cost 1000rp to get to Denpasar from here.

I didn’t wish to take the bemo, and since people were quoting 10,000rp, I started walking, barefoot again. The road was very hot. From time to time I had to take refuge in shady areas. My feet are not yet accustomed to such rigours. I thought about standing and hitching, but felt I had the strength to keep going.

Another car pulled over. This gentleman was a dance teacher, on his way to the Arts Center in Denpasar. He suggested I come with him. My photos, even on the tiny screen, do seem to impress most people. At the entrance, a security guard said we couldn’t go in, but stepped back in salute when told his brother was the boss.

It seemed more like a coll ection of shops than an arts center to me. I took some photos o f griffins (I think that’s what we call a bird with semi-human features.) It was becoming sore to walk. Outside, I took a photo of the amphitheatre. Going barefoot may limit the photos and their quality, by preventing me from making the full effort. We drank a Coca-Cola together, and then he drove me to the Adi Yasa hotel. He wrote his cell phone number in the book, saying that I should contact him if I have any problems. There is such a huge contrast between the nice people in Bali, and the thieves and liars.

I almost wasn’t going to come back here, since they hadn’t told me that breakfast was included in the price when I first came. I had insisted on paying the extra 2000 for fruit salad when I left. There is a new guy manning the desk. Fortunately, they quoted the same price - 20000rp, and I chose the same room. This time I doubled the mattresses. It was a great relief to wash my blistered feet - the first blisters in four months of walking.

I went in search of a Wartel. Silly. I could easily have asked where one was. I went round in a big circle, without spotting one. Then I asked in a computer shop, and was directed to the next street. There, I pulled out my computer and plugged in. The free internet number didn’t work. I had to use the AT&T number and it was dreadfully slow. Fortunately, I was able to send out my messages. I tried to send my diary index, but it was too slow. I’m afraid it means the diary index is off line for a while. I noted carefully the units and cost of my calls - about 2000rp in total. The man on the desk typed the number into a calculator - 5000rp. I asked to see the receipts, which he produced. He kept saying something with the word “Internet” in it. I handed over 2,000rp, slightly rounded down from the total, and walked away. If I pay less than is due in any country, I’m quite sure they will point out my error.

Just round the corner was a small restaurant, so I ate Nasi Campur and Gado Gado - Bill Balsamo had told me about this dish of vegetables and peanut sauce. It’s quite tasty, except for the bits of grit that get into the rice. Returning to the hotel, I bought my favourite packet of biscuits - jam tarts - some Nutri Sari, and an ice-cream.

I stayed in all evening, nursing my blisters and typing the diary.

I’m afraid I must have woken up the gentleman upstairs when I went to the toilet at 1.30 a.m. because he did the same at 4.30 and deliberately noisily. (Not to mention the 4 a.m. lovemaking the other night.) Then the building work commenced at 5.45. They have been knocking down the old kitchen for the past week, but now deliveries of stones begins at the crack of dawn. Tony tells me that the builders get paid about 20,000 per day. That puts the “surcharges” into perspective. Anyhow, I’ve decided I should move.

I got up with the noise and did some typing. I’ve now split the diary after Besakih, because it takes too long to upload all the time. I also wrote to Jonathan, explaining my work situation and that I will try to ask Andy and Sarah if they wouldn’t mind taking on the house letting arrangements until December.

Tony suggested he should rent out my house for me at the higher rate - and live off the proceeds. He also mused on the surcharges one pays for bemos. “You don’t consider it theft when you are charged the prices of BR or for the bus from Gatwick to Luton. It is possible to travel for 20p by bus to the airport here.”

I went over to the Wartel to send off the emails. My AT&T account now works, thanks to detailed instructions from the support centre, but I still can’t send emails with AT&T. If I can do that, I can completely cancel my Biglobe account at 2000 yen per month. I’ve also used an auto-submit engine to try and get more coverage for my homepage - so far only two hundred visitors have made it to my travel page in four months. It’s hardly going to attract sponsorship. I’ll have to figure out some good categories in Yahoo. The teaching homepage continues to get the bulk of my visitors because it has a Yahoo listing.

I walked round to one hotel nearby. They insisted on showing me the room before telling me the price. It was too much at 25,000. Just round the corner from where I’m staying, I found a small “homestay,” which just means a semi-detached cottage. The owner again wouldn’t say how much it is until I had seen round. It’s not as good as where I am, and actually only a short distance away. I saw two rooms, one with two beds. They seemed soft enough. Pressed about the price, the owner asked how much I wanted to pay. I said I didn’t wish to pay more than the 20,000 of Canderi’s. We settled for that, but he asked that I take the single-bed room. That would allow him to get others into the double room. We signed a form, and then he asked for money. I was a little concerned, because most places allow me to pay afterwards. He explained it was so that his wife could buy breakfast for tomorrow. I was suspicious. Was he really so poor? “It’s cheaper to buy food now.” Again I wasn’t happy - I don’t like being told what seem to be improbable lies. “Don’t worry. Be happy,” he said. It had the opposite effect, but I paid over a single day’s rent - just in case it turned out to be too noisy. I was also worried that there was no electricity, but it turned out to be a power cut, affecting the whole of Bali.

Back at my first room, I paid up and started packing. Since everything gets strewn over the spare bed, it is useful to take stock by putting it all back in separate plastic bags in the correct place in my rucksack. Tony tried to dissuade me. “It’s not bad here. No one is going to walk past the room without the ladies at the front noticing.” I asked him to sign my visitor’s book. He reckons my computer is like a common-law wife to me.

I took my things round, but of course, I can’t use the computer. Instead, I start reading up about places to visit in Cambodia and Vietnam. It seems the overland route I wish to go - from Thailand into Cambodia - goes through territory controlled by Khmer Rouge and is not recommended in the guidebook.

I got bored of reading, so went for a walk before evening meal. Fortunately, the electricity had come back on, so I wasn’t ea ting in the dark. I met Tony and his daughter as I returned. “Transport!” I sho uted, mimicking the numerous men who squat by the roadside trying to persuade me to go by motorbike. I had come to feel that they don’t have an automatic right to my attention.

With the electricity back on, I could write a fax to Andy and Sarah. I went round to the Wartel. “No local calls - it’s busy.” It didn’t look busy to me, and I dislike the arrogance of decree rather than negotiation. Anyway, I wanted to send a fax to England. It worked first time. Since there was still no one around, I used the internet just to collect and send some emails. The fax came to 11,000rp - one pound 10 pence.

I was on the computer, reading the lonelyplanet homepages about my intended destinations. The overland route between Thailand and Cambodia is not so dangerous now, and a number of people have made the crossing that way. It’s nice to sit outside with the computer on the table, rather than always have it on my lap.

I noticed that someone had emptied my rubbish bin efficiently. It had taken a week before the overflowing bin at the last establishment was cleared out.

It’s slightly chilly at nights, and with my cold, I have been wearing my sweater a lot. So it was time to wash it, along with the shorts. I’m rather lazy, only rinsing everything twice and not scrubbing anything.

On the internet, I found that Barclay’s bank permits online banking and that I could sign up online as well. However, the program fell over at my postcode, which it didn’t recognise. I wrote them a message. Geocities has tied up with Yahoo, and the results look good. I can download my email directly into Outlook Express, and I can use file transfer to update the Geocities homepage. I cleared it out entirely, and will create a homepage that looks similar to my travel homepage. If I can’t update my own AT&T homepage directly, I can use an Internet cafe to put some photos onto Geocities.

I checked on the price of slide (50,000rp per 36) and developing (approx. 25,000 per film - but no one does it in Ubud). That’s 11.5 US$ for 36 slides. I have now taken almost 3,200 photos in four months (89 films). At just over 1,000 US$, I have paid for the cost of the camera, not including the extra batteries and the flash. By the time I get home, I may have covered the cost of the computer, too (assuming it isn’t stolen and doesn’t break down).

After lunch and some more typing, I went for a walk with the camera. I even took some photos for the first time in a week. One restaurant had a fruit salad at a cheap rate, so I went in even though it wasn’t yet time for my evening meal. For that, I went down to the Ibu Rai restaurant and ordered an expensive meal. I checked that the price was inclusive - there didn’t seem to be anything on the menu, and there were no notices around the walls. I even had some palm wine - quite sweet, but tasty. In the end there was an unexpected 10% government tax added to the bill. They brought me the menu and pointed out the white text on black background at the top of the page. I paid up, but recommended that they change it to normal type. I had seen other patrons querying their bills. There’s nothing worse than something unexpected. It seems like cheating or dishonesty. I won’t go back there again, and I doubt if others will, either. Still, there are enough first-timers to get away with it, if it is a trick. It was my most expensive meal so far - 34,000rp (about 3 pounds 40 pence) - but hardly going to break the bank.

The book took up most of my morning. I display it as a Word97 document with the full screen, but then I changed back to normal format, so that I could watch the page numbers increasing. Funny, all my life I imagined that 20000 leagues under the sea was the depth he descended to, not the distance travelled. It was certainly an enjoyable read. I look forward to “From the Earth to the Moon.”

On the internet, I checked out the latest exchange rates for the countries I will be travelling to. They’re not much different from the page I cut from the Yomiuri before I set off, though it is useful to know the rates for Vietnam and Laos. It amazes me that if I change Taiwan dollars into US$ and then into rupiah, I get twice the rate compared with changing directly into rupiah. I only have 200 NT$ remaining, and 50 pesos.

It’s time to start catching up on the diaries again. I’m always behind. This week should be quicker to write because not so much has happened. I joke with Tony that I should retitle it as “Tony’s diary.”

I went for a walk to the west in the afternoon, wandering into places that offered “fantastic rice paddy views” but disappointed with the scene. After dinner, I typed some of my other work onto a file, but I’d rather let it flow as I travel than do too many brainstorming sessions.

Today was probably as near to a complete day off as I can manage. In an absolutely complete day off, I wouldn’t even touch the computer. However, given that the computer is also a book, it is very hard to leave it switched off. I was even reading the book over the breakfast table. I read it all morning.

Tony invited me to lunch at the only place he goes to, apologising that it was a kilometer away. We took some small pathways to get there, and ordered his standard: Nasi Campur for just 4,000rp. I requested a bottle of Coca-Cola, at 2,500rp - over my usual limit of 2,000rp. It didn’t come - maybe they forgot. Tony never orders tea there, since they put the price up from 1000 to 2000rp. Instead, he takes a drink beforehand. When he went out to a good restaurant in England, he would drink wine from the shop opposite, and then have his meal. “The effect is the same.” He doesn’t drink Coca-Cola because the company refuses to publish its ingredients. “With a product so popular,” I countered, “it would be instantly copied.”

Two men on a motorbike zoomed past. There was a monkey chained to the front. “He’s looking for Japanese girls. They all know which restaurants to go to if they want to sleep with Balinese men. I can’t understand why they do it. They end up paying for the meals for the men.” I’m not sure I could explain the phenomenon.

I downloaded lots more books form the internet in the afternoon. What is amazing is that my own diaries for the last four months are as long as the Jules Verne book, though not equaling the literary merit. That should give me plenty of bedtime reading, should I need it.

Jonathan has also written an email about my house. He expresses his disdain for my work in words such as “reverie” by which I think he means “revelry.” No, checking in the dictionaries and thesaurus available to me, that might be the word he wanted. He recommends I cut short my “preoccupation” or “daydream” and return to Cambridge in October. I have already set my aim - to get home for Christmas - and do not wish to be deflected from it. Also, given that overland is all I can afford, I doubt if it is feasible to get home in three months.

I put these things out of my mind by pressing on with the book. After all, this is supposed to be a holiday from my travels, photography and other responsibilities. It seems that with email, work will chase me even when I take a break. Still, it will be better to sort these things out while I have good internet access. At least, I don’t need to reply until Monday.

Tony is quite interested in my system. It seems he is something of a photographer himself, arranging to take photos of the nice ladies that he encounters. I gave him a brief slideshow, and look over the camera.

I sent some more emails off in the morning, then took the computer down to the internet cafe to see if I could print out the latest batch of namecards. They have an HP DeskJet 692C, which I can plug directly into my computer. I loaded the drivers off the Windows98 files, and started to print. Not sure that anything was happening, I aborted, and the printer spat out a page with just the first two namecards printed very grainy. I hadn’t got the settings correct. Comparing with the settings on their computer (since mine are all in Japanese), I figured I needed “presentation” quality. I set it all running, but after the first name cards began to appear, the owner aborted - there was something wrong with the colours. Perhaps, we reasoned, the cartridge had run out of one colour of ink. All the same, he was going to charge 4,000 (half-price) for two aborted copies. I reduced that to 3,000, but still think I shouldn’t have had to pay so much for what was his problem.

I walked all the way down to Monkey Forest looking for a cheap place to eat, and checking all the exchange rates for Yen. The best I can do, it seems, is just over 54rp to the yen, and the shop was just down the road from my hotel. Some shops were quoting as low as 44rp. I also called in at several bookshops. It’s funny that they all seem to have the same selection of classical books. Obviously someone has come over with a job lot and done the rounds. One shop had them priced at 20,000 each. I was interested in reading “Rob Roy” by Sir Walter Scott. It then occurred to me that I might be able to download some of these oldies from the Internet. I put off my purchase, and headed for home. I didn’t even bother to have lunch, though an ice-cream or two gave me the energy needed.

Back in the booth at the Wartel, I quickly found a homepage with free books to download. They took about ten to fifteen minutes each to come in, but at such a low rate, were well worth it. I’ve now got Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea to amuse me, and a couple of others. They are streamed in, which means that the last page, perhaps only 256bytes, gets lost. Maybe for that I will have to go into a shop and finish the last page.

I’ve also written to AT&T regarding the difficulties I have logging on to their WorldNet service, and sending email. It would be nice to sort this out while I am here.

Later, I began reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, after loading it into Word97 and running the spell checker to teach my dictionary some English words. (Americans have an aversion to s’s and u’s.)

I was so keen to get on with the typing, that I took my computer with me to the breakfast table. Of course, that means showing it to the other vacationers, so not a lot of typing gets done. Tony chats for quite some time. He gets his breakfast delivered to his door, since he has been here for so long. I went round to the Wartel and spent 5,500rp while I updated my homepage. It was left in the lurch last night. I handed the operator a 10,000rp note, and he wanted an extra 1,500 so that he could give me a 5,000 note in change. I point out the correct price.

After lunch, there are more emails to reply to, interspersed with conversations with Tony. He tells me that one lady with a child who had been visiting him, started asking for money. He said he already has a daughter to look after. He hasn’t seen her since.

I also decided it was time to start trimming my homepage. I’ve cut out the hitching homepage, and all the old photos. They weren’t getting much coverage, anyway. I also removed some of the photos from the Taiwan page. It takes up six megabytes of memory, leaving a further 4MB for the rest of my trip.

Tony tells me that I need to change some money - the rupiah is gaining strength, and has risen almost 20% from a month or so ago. At the supermarket, I’ve started buying the cheaper ice-creams: Walls Feast for only 1500, not the Magnum at 3000. I also buy some biscuits - 12 jam tarts for 4200. This usually means I have a bill of 5,700 and hand over 6,000rp. Instead of 300rp change, they hand out three tiny sweets. Until now, I have just accepted them and eaten them. Maybe I will collect them and hand them back as money. I wonder how that will be received.

In the evening, I eat at a cheaper restaurant, and then continue to type my email postcard, now that my homepage is up-to-date. It was bucketing with rain in the evening, so I didn’t wish to venture out with the computer.

Pancakes and fruit salad with coffee seem to be the best bet for breakfast. I do some more typing, then pack the computer in its soft case and the ziplock plastic bag to take it along to the internet shop.

There was no one using the two computers, so they let me plug in the line directly to my computer. The AT&T connection didn’t work. This time it wasn’t busy, but a message from the computer said my access or password was incorrect. The helpful gent then gave me a separate telephone number, with a connect address and password. “You can use this from your own telephone. It’s free,” he said. It worked! Soon I was online. I retrieved my messages - only 82, a lot less than I was expecting. Of those, there were about thirty identical messages from InfoBeat. Since I had signed on for a fortnight’s free jokes by changing my email address every two weeks, all the addresses were sent a message. I deleted the lot.

I looked at my Hotmail. There were lots of messages in duplicate. I deleted some, but there is more work to be done. I have to be careful, since maybe someone has written to the Hotmail address. I was on the phone line for almost exactly an hour, when someone came in. That was my cue to stop. I could go away and read my mail (or delete most of it) at leisure. It only cost 20,000rp for the hour.

After lunch, I continued to send individual replies to my emails. There were quite a few teaching inquiries, unable to download my Word97 files from my old Biglobe site. I gave them the new reggie.net address. The other teaching related emails got a redirection to Dave’s ESL cafe. I wrote a longer letter to mum and dad. There were also some emails from people I have met on the road.

By four o’clock, I was getting bored. I wanted to get online again. However, the computer was in use, when I returned. Someone seemed to be working his way through a whole list of email addresses. The staff allowed me to plug in the computer, and I just continued answering my emails, storing them to be sent later. Finally, I was on. It took several shots to get the emails sent. Then I had to tidy up my Hotmail account: deleting all the unnecessary files and forwarding any that were left to my normal account. It took quite some time to complete. The shop is supposed to close at 6.30, but they hung on until after seven, when I finally logged off. It cost 25,000rp.

Returning from the internet cafe, I went past a Wartel. Local calls are quite cheap. I didn’t tell them I was going to use the computer, but just went into the booth and plugged it in directly. Sure enough, I was able to connect! I stayed on, surfing the web, for quite some time. At first, the operators came knocking on my door, wanting to know why a local Denpasar number had eight digits. I couldn’t explain, except to say that is just a local number. In the end, there was just 5,000 to pay. I managed to start to update my homepage, but the batteries were running low, so I didn’t complete it.

I was elated, on my return to my room. It was late, around 9p.m. I went out for a meal. One cheap-looking place was already closed. I ate Nasi Campur, then hurried home to write some more emails.

Tony tells me that he has just taken his adopted daughter for an entrance exam for a nursing school. Yesterday, he went to the school, and discovered that the site of the exam was fifteen minutes from the school. He was hoping that some of the girls coming from Surabaya wouldn’t know, and turn up at the wrong location. He tells me that his daughter’s grandfather demanded a bribe of 450 UK pounds - and that wouldn’t guarantee anything. Tony replied that if ever they want emergency medicine from England, the starting cost would be 450 pounds plus extras. Apparently, it’s not possible to ask other applicants how much their relatives paid in bribes, because if it turned out that they paid more, it would be embarrassing for them. Bribery is a self-contained, self-perpetuating world.

When you go to the post-off ice, you don’t just ask for the st amps and get them placed unceremoniously in front of you. You can ask: “How much is an airmail letter to England today?” Tony was very pleased, when he was told only 4,200 - five hundred less than usual. However, he was given only 3,500 or something like that, in stamps, which he puts on the envelope. So he is happy because he has paid less than the going rate, the post office worker is happy, because he has an extra five hundred or so to help pay off the bribe he probably needed to get the job (he can’t count), and the post office has been cheated out of 1000rp. “That’s assuming the letter is delivered,” I said, but I don’t think Tony heard me. I wonder why our Western cultures boast about cheapness so much, even overlooking cheating in order to save money. I fear that is why there will always be a ready market for stolen goods, and praise for the thief so that he continues in his evil ways - considering them to be clever, not evil.

I was sure I had put my shoes by the door last night, but when I went out in the morning, they were on the step. Maybe they are trying to tell me that they want a wash, I thought. I haven’t washed them at all in the past four months, and they look quite grubby. After breakfast, I took to the task, rubbing them with my hand soap. They look none the whiter for their wash, but perhaps it has taken some of the smelly bug out.

There’s an English gentleman by the name of Tony in the room opposite. He has hung some cloths around his porch to create the English Garden Fence over which one can talk. He has been here for some time, lives of the interest of some savings in England, and has an adopted Balinese daughter. “You brought the rain with you,” he joked. Yes, everything in England is either “good” or “bad” and all the “bad” things have to have someone to “blame” for them. “Well, maybe I did. This is the ideal weather for a photographer on holiday - it means I’m not tempted to rush out with the camera.”

I spent most of the day reading the Reader’s Digest. I also did my washing - putting the trousers in for a second wash in just a few days. It meant that I wore my shorts for the next few days. Tony told me about some other Internet cafes. There’s one over the road from the supermarket. It turns out to be cheaper than the posh place and only has two computers. If there’s no one using them, he can let me plug into the phone line directly at the same rate of 5,000rp per 15 minutes. This is looking good.

I wandered through some art galleries in the afternoon. In one, I found some nice paintings of scenery. As I was thinking about the compositions, the lady in the shop started singing. “That’s nice,” I thought. “What do you think of this one?” she said. I turned round to see she was holding one of her boobs. “Uhm,” I replied, turning back to the dark painting of a lady and child, “it’s too dark for me, but it’s nice that the child is looking away from the mother.” There were no further temptations as I walked round the rest of the shop.

I ate back at the Canderi hotel. Some fellow travellers recognised me from Lombok. I told them the story of the Besakih temple thieves. “Lucky he didn’t steal your camera.” He may not have stolen anything physical from me, but peace of mind is a valuable commodity. He managed to steal a day from my photography.

I took my computer with me to the internet cafe, but it had closed by 8 p.m. So, I just did some more typing.