I’ve never quite got that Bali as a mystical, magical, paradise thingy. Perhaps if you never saw Kuta, totally avoided every touri attraction, and somehow managed to avoid meeting any locals that’d hold true. Maybe. Not that that doesn’t mean Bali doesn’t have its good points too. Like the never-ending parade of eye candy on its beaches. If you like drunk Aussie boys – and who doesn’t – you can wait until late afternoon when they finally make it to the sun and sand part of their holiday. Or you can start your day off with a cup of joe and watch the beach boy / chair concessionaires get ready for the day. Which should put you and your best buddy in the proper frame of mind to hit on some of those drunk Aussie boys when they finally make an appearance.
I took some cool shots in Bali over my numerous visits, some of the tourist attractions – despite the island’s numerous faults it can be picturesque – some of the locals I didn’t manage to avoid meeting. I didn’t get a shot of the humongous serial killer spider that left me quaking like a little girl one night in my hotel room, or that would probably have been today’s shot instead. But while I don’t consider myself a full-fledged sex touri, I do dabble (often) and many of my fondest memories of the island are of the guys I met there. Which usually started on the beach. So having decided the Best Of The Best 7 Shots means those photographs that immediately transport you back to a time and place and stir your memories of a trip, this one seems a natural for Bali. Maybe when I do a 7 Shots: Bali post some of those photos will not be of male flesh.
There are three kinds of guys you meet in Bali (assuming ‘meet’ is about meat). The aforementioned drunk straight Aussie boys who always seem willing to ignore their heterosexuality while on holiday, Indonesian guys who have moved to Bali to make money off of the touri in any illegal way possible, and local Balinese boys, most of whom share the trait of the gay but closeted boys of Hawaii – they are horny, want to get laid, but are scared to death someone they know will catch them at it. It’s that last group that this photo reminds me of. Well, it reminds me of lazy afternoons idly watching the beach boys ply their trade too, but it’s the blurred motion of one who almost got away in this shot that brings back memories of the local guys I did manage to snag before they could scurry off. And when you do manage that feat, those guys, with their pent-up sexual frustrations, just explode. Huh. So maybe that’s what that Bali as a mystical, magical, paradise thingy is really all about.
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