Desert Point for Beginners: Part 1

Story time, children!  Come gather round!  Everyone loves a story!  

This is a story I wrote a while back.  Its about mates, travel, surfing, adventure and surfing.  Did I mention it's about surfng?  Because it's about that too. 

Beer coaster wisdom

I held the coaster vertically under my index finger and flicked it to make the disk become a globe. I was in a Kuta bar, bored and alone.  I took the chance to reflect on the last 2 weeks as the coaster danced for its sad creator.

A fortnight ago I was in the Tibetan monastery village of Kecai, part of the first group of westerners to be there in more than a decade.  I remembered squatting on the edge of town one morning, holding the toilet paper under my rain jacket to keep it dry.  That’s how they did it there.  It was a humbling moment.  The girl who was with me wasn’t into such humble ablutions.  She hadn’t been able to appreciate much about the location – its culture, food, or the monk’s quarter where we were stayed.  Things were unravelling between us.  I’d realised this.  I’d thought we were on the same page when I’d broached the subject in a week later in Guangzhou at the end of our trip.  She’d reacted badly and caught her flight in anger.  Chicks...

Fortunately, my brother’s mate was in Hong Kong for business.  He put me up for few nights on the floor of his 5-star hotel and showed me the town with his investment banker buddies.  Steel, glass, lights and the high-life made the Tibet and the girl seem a universe away. 

Three days later via Macau, Singapore and Kuala Lumpar, I’d landed in Bali without a board or much of idea how to use one – especially over shallow coral.  A semi-educated purchase and few sessions at Kuta later and I was building confidence.  Socially though, I was nowhere.   

The coaster lost its rotation and skidded to the surface.  I read the back for the first time.  “It’s a sad man who drinks alone.”  Quite true.

I lifted it and turned around to a table of guys, tossing the coaster in the middle of them.  “Sorry, guys: my coaster is talking to me.”  They read it and laughed, asking me to pull up a chair.  A team of Kiwis, Ozzies, Seppos and Hawaiians, just back from a week in G-land.  They’d scored.  Most were on their way home.  Some were staying on.

“You should pull in at the warung with us.  Best place in Bali.  Impossibles in front, great view into the barrel of Padang and super cheap.”

“Yah, I don’t know if I’m ready for the Bukit yet.  I’m just feeling my feet here at Kuta.” I was met with shameful looks and stifled laughter.

“Coming to Bali and surfing Kuta Beach is like going to brothel and jerking yourself off.”  Point made. Crude, yet valid.  Like only an Ozzie can.  The next day I was outta there.

The view he wasn't lying about.  All this for about R12 a day, Bintang optional.

Continue toPart 2 here.