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Her mother offered to swap her for my little sister Maia. I may not have this chance again. 

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Its a beautifully humid, slightly windy day and all i can hear is the buzz of the motor bikes and the occasional beep as the Balinese race down the roads with their whole family stacked onto the  one motor bike. The place we are staying is in Mas, south of Ubud in a family friends house, who have had to move back to Melbourne because of Rod’s cancer and Annie’s hip problems. Its beautiful and I would love to live here one day, I almost feel local because some of the people know them and have given us warm welcome, everybody loves seeing family photos and touching my little sisters red hair. I have the biggest itching to grab Made’s motor scooter and  go for a ride to Katu, but my mum said i might be able to hire one later. Made is our house keeper and means second child in Balinese and would be my name also. She is so smily and comes every morning at 8 to cook us these yummy green coconut pancakes with watermelon and pineapple. I use to hate the idea of having a maid, but she gets payed well on a regular basis and seems to enjoy her job.

This morning we jumped on a Bemo and went for an adventure, to get a bikini and fake Raybands and ended up in a crowded markets with women trying to sell you sarongs for ’ a good morning price’  and telling you how any children they had.  I did end up buying some totally unessesary things, but in the end it cost me next to nothing and i’m sure help them out with supporting their families. Its amazing how comfortable to feel about getting around, although I cant say a single thing in Balinese and have no sense of direction. 

‘Keep your wits about you and be resourceful’ love mum. When I jumped off the plane after a six our flight, I had left my wallet in brisbane and had absolutely no way of contacting my parents I realised i needed to pay 270,000 rupiah for my visa. To be honest i wanted to crying and run into the bathroom. After turning my phone on and off a few times, hoping that somehow it would work, I ran for the pay phone, but realised i had no money let alone rupiahs. After rummaging though my bag looking for anything useful, a man came up to me and asked why i wasn’t heading though to customs and i told him but the look on his face was not very conforming, and he said he would lend me money, but i had nothing to say i would be able to pay him back, apart from that i was pretty sure  my parents where actually on the other side and i didn’t want to own him a favour if i got stuck. In the end I walked into the bathroom, trying to think about it all logically and saw a girl in a st peters uniform and jumped with joy. 

Her mum lent me the money and turns out she lived down the road from me, I found my parents eventually in a sea of placards saying Mr.Jones and Bali Bliss Hotel and gave them back the money. I don’t really know why i’m writing this all out but its mind numbing and its such are relief not to have to worry about organising portaloos and liability insurance. I just looked up to see a little boy on the veranda of a house a few blocks away waving at me and took a few photos of him and a friend “THHHANKK YOU” they yelled back and ran inside again. Anyway I’m going to have a Bintang and Cigarette then shoot my brother with a BB gun. 

;)

COME ALONG ON THE 16th AND MAKE A DIFFERENCE!