The Package Deal

Thursday4th March 2010, 2.25pm, Tunjung Swimming Pool - Kuta

Last night as we were coming out of a club to go on to another, an Australian man approached Ella on the street. I was unfortunately not there to witness this but she told me about it only minutes later when I had caught up with her. 'Hey love' he said, 'do you know what a Wolfpack is?'. Neither Ella or I are ashamed to say that no, other than the obvious - a pack of wolves - we do not know what he was referring to, but I have no doubt in my mind that it was either the beginnings of a joke or something with sexual connotations. To avoid further conversation and so ruining his punchline or his come-on she answered 'Yes', to which he responded, 'Stuck-up Pommie bitch' and stormed off. This upset her, of course it did. She was out with friends, having a good time, a little merry from Rum and Coke, and clearly did not expect to be unduly insulted.

Making our way in to the next venue she saw this charming gent standing at the bar and pointed him out to me. Now, I'm a tolerant person, and very accepting of people's foibles and eccentricities, their outlandish opinions or their regretted mistakes - we are all only human. If he'd said it to me I would have let it go, but he didn't, he upset my friend, and he was unnecessarily rude, and this is where my tolerance ends. Insult me all you want, I have thicker skin than you have words to hurt me, and there is no one who could be a harsher critic of me, than me. But please do not upset the people I love, because I will stride over to that bar and call you on it every time.

I did not shout, I did not swear, I was not angry or unkind, I did not create a scene, I'm not in the habit of starting fights, I didn't even have to start the conversation. When I perched next to him and ordered myself a drink, he turned towards me and asked if he could buy it for me? Excellent. I told him I was sorry, that usually I would be more than happy to chat to him, but only 20 minutes ago he'd been insulting towards a friend of mine, and it was this, not my unadulterated desire for him, that had brought me over. He looked at me in disbelief, so I recalled for him his conversation with Ella, for a minute or so he feigned forgetting it but then I think he realised that I was not going to accept 'I'm drunk, I can't remember' as an excuse. He was 35 years old, this man, and I suggested to him that this was too old to still be talking to women like they owe him something. I also mentioned that just because the word 'bitch' has pervaded our society as some kind of mock-friendly, teenage America term of faux sophisticated familiarity, it does not mean that it is not offensive, especially when venomously spat at you by a stranger on the street.

To give him his due, he seemed genuinely sorry when the facts of the matter were delicately pointed out for him, and he looked reasonably shocked and amused that I had decided to quietly challenge his behaviour. He apologised to me, but it wasn't me he had upset, and so I said 'I'm afraid I'm only here on the lovely Ella's behalf, because she shouldn't have to defend herself and because she's far too polite to do so. I think if you mean it, she would very much appreciate an apology in person.' And sure enough, he did. I led him in her direction, she glared at me with 'What Have You Done' eyes, and he told her that he was sorry, he hadn't meant it. She graciously thanked him, everyone shook hands and made up, all's well that ends well.

So why do I share this little anecdote with you? Well, because it helps me to illustrate what kind of a place Kuta is. Everyone is here to have fun. Australians on holiday are to Bali what Brits are for a few weeks in the Summer to Magaluf, Zante, Tenerife, Faliraki. Occasionally they make a show of themselves. Too much alcohol, too much sun, too much sexual energy, and not enough morals has it's benefits, but it also inevitably creates an atmosphere of unbridled, frenzied impulsiveness. Most people get along with this just fine, and manage to take the place for what it is - a multi-national holiday resort. But there is also something unsavoury about it, tensions bubbling beneath the surface which sometimes boil over in to uncalled for remarks or too forceful advances. One night out was great fun, the second night had it's ups (dancing to Dizzee Rascal) and it's downs (fending off drunk Aussies), the prospect of Night Out Number Three this evening, well, it's making me feel old and tired and in need of intelligent conversation.

As you've probably realised, my go-to-girl for intelligent conversation, Ella, is back. We were reunited on Tuesday morning after her adventures in Sumatra. Not only did she bring new stories and tales of West Indonesia for me, she also brought Lizzie and Kirst, two 18 year old travelling companions that she picked up on her way. Their wide-eyed, first days of real life and independence expressions have contributed to my feeling that I've just finished my A Levels and have come on a package holiday with the girlies to 'tear it up abroad'. The only thing missing is matching t-shirts with the slogan 'Bali 2010' and suggestive nicknames on the back. Am I so aged, with only 6 years on these beautiful girls, that I already feel like I'm past this? This is clearly what happens when you've been sneaking into pubs since the age of 15 - "fun" gets boring.

But I'm doing my best to hang on to the last remnants of my turbulent teenage and University years. I like drinking, I like dancing, and most of the time - when they're not calling my friends bitches or trying to grind against me in clubs - I like boys too. The sun is shining, I'm about to have a dip in the pool, and later on we're going to try on each others' clothes and put glitter on our faces. Faliraki, eat your heart out.