Boys on holidays

I used to stay a few times in indonesia but never went to bali. Even my indonesian friends were wondering why I never went- so I decided to plan a weekend trip. First of all I planned my honeymoon trip with a friend of mine- he is an Indian guy, but believe me he acts more like a cute german “pornoralle”. To complete our village people travel group finally a german police men decided to join us. So I booked a honeymoon suite for the three of us on bali.
After the usual Club’n’bintang @bintang resto we took garuda to bali at friday night. Our place to stay was a run down small holiday resort for european truck drivers, their asian women and single female office staff in their late 50ies.
It was low season- so no worries, we where more or less the only guests.
The main focus for the trip, behind gang bang- was to go to the beach, that’s why we went immediately after arrival to it for a bintang.
The beach is like in any typical tourism resort of the world- huge hotels, shops, posh italian restaurants (remember- its indonesia!)- so really nothing to write home about. On the next day I started to realize that I maybe left Indonesia, cause people where cycling on the streets or taking a walk- this wouldn’t be possible in jogja. Anyway, we took our rented motorcycles and head to “dreamland”. It took us nearly half the day- just wanna add: don’t trust locals about directions!
The beach is a hip surf hot spot- so the place to be for the “pornoralles” from abroad. So I am not able to surf, I am not looking like a surfer boy, but indeed I wasn’t the ugliest guy at this spot. Some ladies thought it might be necessary to “show up” what nobody wanna see.
After the second night I realized what was wrong about travelling with my village people friends- three guys in one room are two to much- at least for sleeping. My fellow travellers acting like on school class vacations! The result was a locked washroom door- resulting in asking for assistance from hotel staff. The good thing about this- we got an invitation to a complimentary “arak” party. Next morning I locked myself inside the washroom- locker completely destroyed- so no more invitations from the hotel staff.