In 2015 Natasha hadn’t yet crossed the enlightened drawbridge to the Kingdom of Eat, Pray Love wanderlusting. She was still fingering around with the Kuta peasants and knew she could do better.
That all changed one day when she was taking a break from washing the dirty barefoot marks from her carpet after last night’s genital coupling with her South Fremantle lothario.
She stumbled upon Instagram’s Bali Bible: the definitive picture guide for wankettes who believe spirituality is a $300 Jetstar ticket away.
Nathasha sits in the Tiger departure area hoping her oversized floppy hat would shield her from the paracetamol snorters and insta-models that believed a modelling career was a Potato head selfie away.
She snaps a photo of her boarding pass, Passport and a copy of Eat, Pray, Love and to prove she is more full of shit than an old boys jocks she drops the smuggest caption of 2017:
“Today I embark not on a holiday, but on a journey, to learn the wisdom of the Indonesians, nurture my body with organic wholeness and show you all there actually is another side to Bali #followme #sheisnotlost #wanderlust #eatpraylove #ubud #uluwatu #organic #vegetarian #yogagirl #fromwhereyoudratherbe #spiritual #travel.”
She first struts into Seminyak like a bigger Lycra-clad wanker than a cyclist riding in the middle of Stirling Highway. While trying to take a selfie of her vegetable smoothie, she is interrupted by a group of unpalatable Bingtangoids, “hows yas going? Where ya heading, mate?”
“I am on my way to Uluwatu and then Ubud, I guess you guys are looking for Kuta?” The braided man wipes beer from his goatee, “Ulu-what? Never heard of it ay.”
Ding, ding, ding! It’s like Larry Emdur announced Natasha’s name to have a crack at the showcase on The Cunt is Right, and she fires into full smug-fuckery:
“You don’t know where Uluwatu is? (neither does she) Oh, honey, best stick to Kuta then”. She walks off giggling will madly checking her iPhone for directions to her spiritual homeland.
In total, she spends 1 day in Uluwatu, and 2 nights in Ubud. She did dabble in some yoga, but the real downward dog she got was from a white dreadlocked guy who’d introduce his chakra before his “earthling name”.
Natasha leaves Ubud feeling like the spiritual leader of her Insta-followers: a regular Cuntai Lama. In reality, she lost followers as it’s very hard to masturbate to an Acai bowl and photo of some poor Bali kids playing with shit toys.
While waiting to return to Perth from her pilgrimage, she hears the bad news: Indonesia has cancelled her flight. Suddenly the Bali goddess joins the slurred chorus of the aggrieved, “Indonesia is so corrupt! Seriously!!! #fml #whyme #corrupt #allaoutofmoney”
To the Balinese, Aussie travellers are like participants in a cultural bukake: we all leave the same stain, just in a different area.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?