Bikes, Price Hikes and Peddlars

I am learning. If you get a black plastic bag it's a sign to other traders that you have been ripped off. If you learn people's names and keep your promises, you're less likely to get a black plastic bag. Everyone knows everyone, and wants to go know your business on a regular basis. "where you going?" "where you staying?", "where you from?" "How much you pay?" are all questions designed to work out your client value and your business.

traders cycle from nearly towns, often with pushbikes laden with boxes, strapped either side of the back wheel to make a living. It's not uncommon to see four children being collected from school on a scooter with an adult driving. It's not uncommon to see a whole family sat on one bike. It's not uncommon for bikes to mount the pavement or drive the wrong way down a one way street to save time in a place where making a living is no mean feat.

The traders are brilliant at recalling the tourist names, cries of "Julie Julie" greet me every time I venture more than five yards from my hotel.

It's a dirty, crazy place, the streets are narrow yet large cars are the norm as the police assume they are tourist vehicles and don't stop them for a back hander. Money gets things done, court cases avoided, visas extended, every corner has a man wanting a back hander for something.

Yet it's not all about money. Come the big hindu ceremonies every trader no matter how bad his business will shut, fast, not smoke, not drink and return to their home to celebrate whatever the event. Sometimes people suprise you, you say a price and they say, too much, you can have for less, or if you've made friends with someone it's not uncommon for them to offer to feed you, share beer or cigarettes, or offer their services for free.
I guess like everywhere it takes all sorts.
It's mad, it's crowded, it's so humid you sweat every time you leave air conditioning, it's buzzing and jostling and full of the strangest sights, but I am falling in love with Bali.

Julie