After some local recommendations and others warning us to stay far away, Emma and I decided to get two round trip tickets to an off the beaten track Island in southern Indonesia called Flores. Matthew, our favorite surf instructor and just an all around wicked dude, hooked us up with his mate, Alex, who was from the Island. Alex was so good to us: helped us get our tickets, made some calls to arrange a guide for us, and let us tell people we was his girlfriends - a trick that owwwed and ahhhhed the locals, as he is a pro boxer and seemingly the only semi-celebrity from Flores, but he was not famous enough to inspire the locals not to rip us off whenever they got the chance.

Touch down in the airport and we expected a guide to be waiting, unfortunately they no-showed. Luckily, at least we thought at the time, there were heaps of other guides hanging out at the one room, cockroach infested and rickety airport. We started to chat with one who seemed OK minus the coy smile and cocky grin. Thinking I was being paranoid by not trusting his shady eyes we ended up booking half a day tout with him. All I will say about it is the trip began with a tour of every cockroach infested motel in Ende and ended with Emma having a right go at him and we stormed out of his vehicle. 'Brilliant' we thought until we realized we were in some shit hole town on the street corner with no where to go and nothing to do. Luckily I needed to use the loo, and Emma used her amazing people skills and arranged us two motorcycles and guides to take us to a traditionally village located not so far outside of town.

People stared, honked, yelled and gasped as we stormed by on our motorcycles, a sure sign that not many light skin Western tourists hung out in Ende. By the time we reached the town I learned my lesson and wrapped myself head to toe in sarongs, and thankfully the attention waned. We were awed by the beauty of the village and its people: the traditional huts were made of bamboo, palm leaves and other woods found in the local jungle; chickens, pigs, and other livestock roamed the area; children shouted "haaaalllllooo, haaaallllloooooooo" and chased us through the thin, bumpy dirt paths up to the top of the village with a view like I've never seen before. Sun setting over the lush tropical rain forest, the shimmer of the ocean dividing the luxuriant hills from massive smoking volcanoes...just look at the picture I posted on my blog.

After a mental bus ride around winding roads that overlooked rocky ninety degree drops into the ocean, Emma feeling car sick and subsequently took some drowsy formula anti nausea meds which has now been renamed the cuddle drug, we reached Bajawa and all the wonders that came with it. Like our prebooked guest house, the comfort of a roach free bed, and a wonderful guide who took us on some amazing adventures.

First thing the next morning we woke up to banana pancakes and hot tea. After tucking into that we headed off on what turned out to be an amazing adventure. A bumpy and shaking mini bus ride took us to a dead end road in the middle of a jungle landscape. We began trekking deeper in. Walking along narrow passages past massive palms, macadamia nut trees and other tropical fauna and flora. A few hours later we found ourselves in another traditional village, but this one was without electrify or easy access to roads or rivers. The people maintained their hunting and gathering lifestyle, and maintained their animist traditions.

We sat and listened to their animist practices which included animal sacrifices, making traditional sarongs and the details of the hierarchical practices of the village. As were sat around the guide a small boy maybe four or five drank a big cup of coconut wine and then ran around and played with a giant machete...something that would never be permitted at home but seemed natural in the jungle.

So many amazing things happened on the Island that I just have time to describe them all, lets just say that Flores was an amazing and trying experience. Finally after a cancelled flight, much fighting with the travel agents we were able to get back to Bali. After a chaotic day of getting all of Emma's final touches Emma had to fly back to Australia. However that won't be the end of our travels together, as I am moving there in the end of December of January. Can't wait to hit Aussie's surf.

The day after Emmers left I was at a loss, 'what could I do without her' I thought. When you can't think of anything to do in Bali, you hit the surf and enjoy the rays. Bali's waves have a history of luring people to Davie Jones's locker: my surf instructor told me two people a week die during the peak season. Of course this was the first thing that came to my mind when I saw a lone and riderless surfboard being battered by the waves. The current was brutally powerful that day, and it was pulling board out into the open sea. I was either feeling heroic or I was hoping the surf Gods had blessed me with a beautiful new mini Malibu because I paddled to that board with more speed and vigor than I thought I possessed. Grabbing the board and attaching it to my arm, I started madly searching for the missing rider. After ten or so minutes I rushed to shore hoping to find someone to help me with my quest.

Reaching shore I saw this beautiful, buff, tanned surfer boy scanning the waves frantically. I dropped my board, fixed my bikini, put on my best strut on, and sauntered my way to the surfer dude. He looked towards me and did the triple take. I was hoping he thought 'my missing board and a beautiful surfer chick, what else can I ask for' but who knows what men think? After getting his board and endlessly thanking me, we hit the waves and spent the afternoon chilling out together. He was hot, sweet and WAY TOO young but a really nice chill dude, so I agreed to meet him later that night for a drink at Bali's signature meat-market-club, Bounty.

Anything can happen at Bounty! The night can be spent picking up lady boys, singing karaoke, watching professional semi-erotic dancing, trying not to watch some random fugly girl with way too many drinks in her take off her cloths in the most unerotic way possible, playing pool with a group of mates, or .... The only guarantees of Bounty are that it will be a proper sausage fest filled with beautiful buff suffers on the prowl, a few surfer chicks, and a pack of stunning prostitutes. The abundance of hot men means that a) they will make out with girls they normally would not b) a hot girl will be ogled by just about everyone around and c) it is not very fun being a girl there - well not unless you liked being randomly groped by a large quantity of men.

This particular night however was my best at Bounty. I searched the club for my surfer mate, and instead sat down with a group of five wicked Aussie guys. Normally if I sat down with a group of five dudes, I would feel like I placed myself in the centre of the lion's den, but this night it was all cool. We played pool, sang along to bad tunes and danced our little faces off until the sun was just about to come up, and some of us even fell off the stage and made a thud of a landing. Two of the boys found some beautiful South American girls who they agreed to go surfing with the next day. Later the dudes were somewhat bitching that they would have to spend the day giving lessons, that was until they hit the waves and found out one of the ladies was ranked South America's best female surfer and the other was not far behind. Bet they did not expect what was coming to them...I love it when people have a surprise up there sleeve. The night was mad and crazy, and such a good laugh. I meet a bunch of wicked boys that I hope to meet up with again once I move to Australia.

It took a few days to get over the hangover of that night, and then it was time for me to leave Bali and head to Singapore.