Today we’d make plans to head down to the park by the beach as Truckie last night was telling us his son was competing in a kite festival and it was quite a spectacle to be seen. Unlikely to see any sign of Mary Poppins or Bert though. So after a bit of blogging we needed to fuel up for the day as it will be a bit of ride from where we are staying.

We set off in search of breakfast, that noble quest for eggs, coffee, and sanity. And wouldn’t you know it, halfway down the street, we passed a café with the tiniest security guard you’ve ever seen: a little pooch, ears up, chest out, guarding the threshold like it was the royal palace. No one got past without a sniff and a judgmental glance. A true professional.
We kept strolling until we reached our spot , you know the one. The kind of place where you trust the coffee and know you’re going to get a good bite to eat (although that’s not too harder ask in Bali (the food but not necessarily the coffee. It’s a prime people-watching zone too. The characters on this sidewalk deserve their own sitcom.
As we sipped and munched away, a man outside caught our eye. He was completely absorbed in a photo shoot with a local stray, offering water like a sommelier and doling out treats like a dog whisperer on a press tour. The pup looked about as content as a dog could be – cautious at first but eventually warmed up to the man.. We just sat there with our breakfast, quietly admiring the moment. It was wholesome and unexpected and seemed the man was truly as happy as the pooch he helped. Surrounded by all kinds of people and languages, we decide to head off to do a spot of daily grocery shopping and to regroup before our trek to the kite festival.

The kite festival is not your average string-and-breeze operation, but a full-on competition. Huge kites launched from the car park, dragged down the beach by a team of runners like they were storming the sky. No clue how winners are crowned, possibly whoever survives the tangled strings. Speaking of survival, Matthew and I (famously clumsy) managed to dodge kite wires, crowds, and sand ambushes. Victory! The Balinese, true to form, were kind and patient and helped us navigate the chaos.
Each kite was a beautiful nod to Indonesian tradition, their faces painted with cultural pride and catching the wind like airborne art.

After surviving the walk and the long ride to get there, we’d worked up an appetite, and quite a bit of sweat, so we grabbed a quick bite to eat by the water. The restaurant was simple but the perfect spot to cool down and reenergise. We were entertained by a group of Aussies who were playing cards and we wondered why they’d come to Bali at all, they were grumbling about Bali as if they’d been dragged there by a travel agent with a grudge.Back on the road and bound for the villa, we were on a mission: cool down and caffeinate—with flair. A quick change and splash later, I was floating blissfully in the pool with a ‘special coffee’ in hand -aka Baileys on ice – and yes, it was glorious. The pool area was a little slice of paradise, beautifully landscaped with tropical greenery that made us dream of backyard upgrades back home.
Naturally, this turned into a full-on botanical brainstorm. We started jotting down plant ideas, channeling our inner garden designers. Meanwhile, Matthew, man of action and master Googler, was already deep into searches for Bunnings and local nurseries, planning our suburban Eden before the Baileys had even kicked in.
Next on the Bali essentials checklist: the daily massage. At this point, it’s less a luxury and more a physical and spiritual requirement. I have to admit, the $13 hour-long session here somehow feels miles better than the $90 ones back home – maybe it’s the magic hands, maybe it’s the price tag, maybe it’s just Bali being Bali.
Upon returning back to the villa, I find Matthew has enjoyed a different kind of down time, he’d been relaxing and reading and pottering as he does no matter which country he is in. We giggle as we realise it is only our first full day here, and it’s time for dinner. We’d packed a lot in and felt like time has flown and stood still in equal measures.
After what felt like an eternity scrolling GoJek’s (one of Bali’s UberEats) endless list of dinner options, each dish more cryptic than the last, we finally surrendered. The sheer overwhelm of choice, paired with our not-quite-fluent Bahasa and Google Translate’s creative interpretations, made “what do we feel like?” a philosophical debate. In the end, heading out seemed easier.
Being on bicycles in the day limits what you can see, so we enjoyed the stroll, noting the changes up and down the streets on our way. 
We decided on an Irish pub, complete with Steak and Guinness Pie. We giggle at who’s in the restaurant, think “parental age bracket”, and the song choice seemed handpicked for them. Naturally, I was in my element, indulging my people-watching habit. The couple in front of us had polished off  Shepherd’s Pies, each drowned in what looked like an entire bottle of tomato sauce. But the kicker? The man followed that up with a Steak and Guinness Pie, his entrée had merely been the warm-up. He then ceremoniously spread the mashed potato on top like icing. Clearly, he’s loyal to a culinary type.
Before long, a scruffy little puppy captured the hearts of a few tables of older women, who gleefully fed him scraps from their plates like he was royalty. Belly full and confidence soaring, he strutted over and flopped down behind Matthew as if he’d lived there all his life. I leaned in for a warm hello—but was met with a cool side eye. No tail wag, no sniff of approval. Apparently, I wasn’t in his preferred demographic.

With stomachs as content as the puppy’s and legs aching in that gloriously earned way, we finally head home and collapse. The day had delivered in every way, equal parts amusing and indulgent. As we drift off, we quietly scheme for tomorrow, hopefully one that kicks off with a morning stroll and a few more unexpected delights.