There's more to Bali than Aussies

There's more to Bali than Aussies

A trip to Bali has resolved the fear of finding Australians who behave badly on holiday.

It was the strangest of Saturdays. The grand final rematch was on and there I was, sitting at Melbourne Airport, avoiding the one TV screening the game, waiting to get the hell out of my beloved city. I am ashamed to admit, it wasn't very Melbourne of me.

Most people can't get enough football, but that extra week was too much for me. I barrack for neither team (go Tiges, I'll keep burning that candle) but still found the first grand final completely engrossing and exhilarating. But also deeply stressful. My friends who supported either of the teams had anxiety levels that skyrocketed in the week leading up to the first game. As it dragged on it only got worse and I couldn't help them.

So I decided to get out. That's how I found myself in the international airport lounge on Saturday afternoon, grand final time, destination Bali. I've never been. I told friends where I was headed. They rolled their eyes and said, ''Yeah, you and every Australian footballer.'' I hadn't factored this in while trying to avoid all things football. I'd forgotten that most footy teams' Mad Mondays are now held overseas because it's easier to keep any bad behaviour away from the prying eyes of the media. Wearing ladies' frocks and brandishing dildos (yes Fevola, you know who you are) goes unnoticed when you're covered in henna tattoos and your hair is braided.
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To be honest, I've avoided Bali in the past because I'm a little scared of Aussies behaving badly on holiday. I've heard stories of folks who purchase a visa to Idiot Land the minute they order their first bourbon and coke on the plane. Apparently some Australians in Bali treat it like Americans do Las Vegas or New Orleans - all inhibitions go out the window in a sanctioned party town. I'm sure many visitors have woken up the next morning with hazy memories of getting their cans out for a free drink. Or worse. It's Spring Break, tinged with regret.

I'm not saying I'm immune to this kind of behaviour. I've disgraced myself in various places around the world and had a ball doing it. I'm just a little wary of seeing my own behaving badly, en masse.

My fears escalated before takeoff. Waiting on the tarmac in Melbourne, a lady stood in her seat and informed the entire back section of the plane that it was Suzanne's 50th birthday and they were going to Bali.

She'd had a few shandies and was having a good time. I'm all for that. The problem was she said it with an Asian accent. She wasn't Asian. Then she kept repeating ''Bali, Bali, Bali'' in said accent while nodding and looking at her embarrassed friends for approval.

They were not laughing. I stifled the urge to wrestle her down and perform the typewriter on her, complete with return slap. I was annoyed but I'm sure it was more distressing for the flight attendant who witnessed it too. She was Asian. She had far more restraint than I and smiled politely. If I was her, I wouldn't be so decent. I probably would have added a little something extra special to the lady's chicken teriyaki inflight meal.

On arrival in Bali, our racist friend had calmed down (slept off her drink) and was last spotted with a serious dose of bird's nest travel hair. No one told her. Karma comes in many forms.

Things were looking up. Then while filing through customs, I was dragged out of the line and herded into an office in front of my fellow passengers. I looked suspiciously like the bad Aussie tourist now. Fortunately, I don't own a boogie bag but my pen had leaked all over my passport. Eventually I was allowed to pass go.

I can safely say my preconceived ideas about Bali were completely wrong. I've avoided the main drags and found that not only is Bali exceptionally beautiful, wonderful and alive, I also saw no more Aussie idiots. Except for me, who got held up at customs then accidentally got so sunburnt on the first day, that I am now referred to as the Red Lady. Stupid tourist, me.

Myf Warhurst's column appears in The Age's MelbourneLife on Fridays.

Source: The Age

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