Almost time to go home, but first we decide to return to Bali and visit a part we missed, one of the smartest parts called Uluwatu.  We plan a couple of nights there and before we set off Sara tries to blag our way into a brand new beach club, really top end.  Sara lies about her age to get us on the guest list.  They resist, and name some crazy minimum spend, Sara counters with 'Do you know who I am' sort of stuff.  But while all this is going on we make one of our unusually rare unforced errors............. we book into a Beach Club.

​

Yup, The ULU CLIFFHOUSE, which just looks like a very nice upmarket hotel on a cliff overlooking the surfing beaches turns out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing.  We fail to do our due diligence (read the f'ing reviews for instance) because we just like to look of the room and the view.  We book.  We arrive.  

​

It is down a half a mile of broken, narrow, potholed, cart track which you would not take a normal car down (what is it with Balinese roads, how do they even build these hotels, thousands of tons of concrete, timber, fittings, labourers, all of whom have to get down a road our driver struggled to get his car down????  How is it even possible??).  Anyway, we bowl up at midday, big place, beds everywhere, nice manager.  "How may rooms do you have John?" (his name was John, I was not being Essex'ish), seven came the reply.  Just seven???  Yup, it is a club after all, not a hotel, we just have the rooms for the DJ's like Fat Boy Slim.  Cue a very old fashioned look from Sara who is a light sleeper in nightclubs, unsurprisingly.  Capacity John?  We take up to 1,500 on a good night.  Cue Sara going a fetching shade of puce and staring hard at me.  Will it be busy (noisy) tonight John?  No sir, it's film night tonight, The Fablemans.  RELAX.

​

It actually turned out nice and we enjoyed the film and the vibe, lots of young people and all very chatty and fun.  Sara was pulled by a very insistent (and 'on something') Frenchman, I bored his mate witless.