That Balinese old lady and I were having trouble to communicate, but she was the only person around to teach me how to drive that lil motorbike. I never knew they had gears, fuck me dead. I took off in the dark slowly at first, then I kinda got the hang of it. Being on a motorbike and feeling the wind on your face as you rapidly win over each k of road makes you feel like the terminator, even if, really, you are just a skinny surfer in boardies on a tiny moped going at 50km/h down a shitty small road. I got to Padang Padang Inn, where most Brazilians stay so I would most likely find people I know and maybe they would know where my boys were hiding. Before I even stopped I heard tchelaos voice calling from a car. I should’ve parked before looking, but instead I fucked it all up and jumped off the moped in movement, nearly hitting another bike in the park and creating a massive domino effect. Definitely the first last time driving that thing haha

I was stoked to see them: Tchelao, Duda, Babysauro, Romy and Greta. We got some dinner and hung out at the 2 storey house Romy has rented for a few months. The vibe was great, but from what I understood the waves had been shit for 2 weeks, since the CT in Ulu’s. Knowing that, I psyched everyone up for that sick night out in Kuta. Everyone was on Vodka, but I decided to honour the Balinese tradition and go for Arak. The results were fucken funny. I was having too much fun, that place goes off ay..