It started, as it always does, with a roll of the dice. 1-3, I stay home and do something productive. Read a book, hit the gym, pretend to be a responsible adult. But 4-6? That meant one thing—Bali. Beaches, bikers, and enough Bintang beer to drown a small village. The dice didn’t hesitate. A six.
Next thing I know, I’m stepping off a plane in Denpasar, humidity hitting me like a sledgehammer. March in Bali is the start of the dry season, which means it’s prime time for tourists, chaos, and questionable choices. Perfect.
Day 1: Canggu – Rolling Into Paradise
First order of business? Bike. I rent a battered old scooter that looks like it’s survived a few tsunamis and give the dice their first mission: helmet or no helmet? It lands on no helmet. Great. I’m now cruising through the traffic of Canggu, dodging backpackers, honking trucks, and the occasional confused chicken, feeling every bit like a reckless deity of the road.
Canggu is a hipster’s wet dream—beach clubs, smoothie bowls, and Instagram influencers pretending they’re enlightened. I roll the dice at The Lawn beach club to decide if I’m having a quiet beer or diving headfirst into the party. The gods say party. Four hours later, I’m dancing on a table with a Finnish model named Isla, to a DJ who looks like he was born wearing sunglasses.
Day 2-3: Ubud – Monkeys, Mystics & Magic Mushrooms
Hangover raging, I let the dice decide my fate. 1-3, I recover at a spa. 4-6, I ride to Ubud, Bali’s spiritual jungle heartland. Naturally, it’s a six. Two hours of weaving through lush green hills, rice paddies, and roadside temples later, I’m in Ubud, drinking fresh coconut water, pretending I’m the kind of guy who does yoga.
Then, the dice throw me a curveball. I’m outside the infamous Monkey Forest. Roll for entry. It’s a five. Within minutes, a monkey has stolen my sunglasses, another is trying to unzip my backpack, and a third is giving me a look that says, “I will rob you blind.”
That night, the dice send me to a hidden bar in the jungle where a local hands me a magic mushroom smoothie. 1-3, I politely decline. 4-6, down the hatch. The number comes up. Two hours later, I’m convinced the trees are whispering secrets to me, and I have an emotional heart-to-heart with a stray dog.
Day 4-6: Nusa Penida – Death Roads & Devil’s Tears
Bali is wild, but Nusa Penida is where things get seriously unhinged. It’s an island off the coast with roads that look like they were designed by a sadist. Roll to see if I brave the crossing. A six. Of course.
The ferry ride is rough, and my scooter barely survives the island’s cratered roads, but the pay-off? Unreal. I roll up to Kelingking Beach, where cliffs drop into electric-blue water, looking like nature’s middle finger. Then, the dice decide whether I attempt the terrifying climb down. A five. My legs are screaming in protest, but I make it to the bottom, where waves the size of buses crash against the shore.
The next stop is Devil’s Tears, a rocky outcrop where waves explode like fireworks. The dice have one last decision for me—stay dry or stand at the edge and risk getting drenched? The answer is obvious. I’m soaked within seconds, beer in hand, laughing like a lunatic as the ocean tries to kill me.
Day 7: Seminyak – The Grand Finale
The last roll of the dice takes me to Seminyak, where Bali’s nightlife reaches full throttle. Beach clubs, rooftop bars, and the kind of energy that suggests your bank balance is about to suffer. The dice decree an all-nighter. I bar-hop from La Favela to Motel Mexicola, drinking tequila with Aussies, dancing with strangers, and somehow ending up in a villa pool at sunrise.
Reflections from the Road
One week, one battered scooter, one very questionable decision-making system. Bali was everything the dice wanted it to be—chaotic, beautiful, and utterly unpredictable. From jungle temples to beach clubs, from near-death experiences to life-affirming moments, this island delivered in every way possible.
The dice never lie. And they’ve already whispered the next destination in my ear. Stay tuned.
— The Diceman
