Nothing like a couple heavy lumps of concrete crashing out of the sky smack in front of you to shake you out of balmy evening reverie of Bali’s Monkey Forest.
The cacophony of slamming onto the footpath alone will shock you, if not the electric wiring dragged down by a passing bus that hooked the masonry in the first place.
Set amid a sea of orange-red taillights, colourful night-store lights and heaving, tripping humanity negotiating multiple sidewalk gradients, it’s a neat tease of what you might meet up with in the tropics. Any time, anywhere, day or night.
Was expecting something different out of the sky to be truthful, what with five volcanic eruptions on the island next door to the island next door.
Or maybe an earthquake, copped little ones before, along with tsunami warnings. Or perhaps floods, they’ve chewed the place about pretty badly last year, caused by over-development.
As it is, 170+ forest fires across Nusantara, Indonesia’s new capital to the north of Bali in Kalimantan, combined with the Krakatau’s ash and smoke have been sending an acrid nightly pong across the place.
Curious to find cops have named 140 pyro suspects so far this year. Lots of land clearing going on, evidently, and several corporations are included in the gun.
But here in Ubud, the more clear and present danger remains simply crossing the road without being spiflicated five ways to Friday.
And dodging rabies from ever-present monkeys, mozzie/bug bites and stings, and not keeping your hands sanitised. No shortage of rubbish up here. The occasional waft of sewage is a rude reminder to check your jabs are up to date.
Tourist traps, pretty things they are, can be real traps.
Think shonky stairs, rusty handrails, slippery muddy tracks, dodgy bamboo footbridges. And glass bridges 65 metres above gorges and waterfalls, pythons in ricefield water channels, flying fox river gorge crossings, precipitous swings into the wild green yonder, unseaworthy island-hopping sea ferries, Evel Knievel Gojek motorcycle drivers … the food might be terrific but watch for its E.coli ingredients.
Then you have your spiritual con artist species – over-priced didgeridoo and sitar healers, breatharians, yoga and spa gurus, masseuses who leave you wondering why you even fronted up.
Curious to see a surge in DIY courses in hypnotherapy on offer. Teach yourself to be a hypnotist. Maybe cure yourself of your gullibility.
Danger-wise, I still reckon one of my best efforts was finding an evil -looking luminescent green thing in my bed up here some years back. Only a small thing, I thought it was a worm of some sort, only to later discover it was a green pit viper.
Reminds me Indian Jones peering into the Well of Souls: “Snakes. Why’d it have to be snakes?” he complains. To which his offsider, Sallah, replies: “Asps… very dangerous. You go first.”
Yes all very dangerous but nothing much against our copperheads, tiger and taipans, great whites, redbacks, funnel-webs, scorpions, dropbears.
But f-f-falling bricks out of the night sky … ha, wait until you get to the Bali Axe Throwing and Sports Bar in Legian.
This article appeared in the Geelong Advertiser 15 September 2026.
