Kuta beach was a scene of postcard perfection that late afternoon. Couples strolled hand in hand through the soft sand as young children darted in and out of the lapping waters sqealing with delight. A frisbee arced above in the still warm air as an athletic sun tanned figure jumped high to arrest its fall between flattened palms. Weary hands performed their final massage for the day upon greatful shoulders, and the large orb of the equatorial sun sat low in a tired sky, producing a thin river of orange light that undulated softly apon the ocean from horizon to shore.
Absorbing this idylic image from behind a damp towel pressed against my chin I stood next to a group of young Australian men who had also enjoyed a day at this beach of some celebrity. They would Joke with each other, swim, and most enjoyably of all for them, attend close scrutiny to all young women who came within earshot.The group would taunt or tickle these young females with clumsy enthusiasm and even enjoy some success with occasional nervous conversation. But these were jolly young men of no mean spirit or ill,who simply wished to live to their lifes age with energy and humour. Most of the afternoon they had been combating the local island lads in games of soccer and had been very humble in their considerable dominance over their competition. But knowing the Balinese spirit as I do, I was sure the Bali boys would seek some form of sporting revenge to balance against the days earlier events. I didn't have to wait long for them to try and do so.
The oldest of the Indonesians who was part of the intermitant games of soccer during the afternoon, sauntered over from where the rest were gathered and challenged the Australians to a foot race. Each side were to select their most fleet of foot and race each other over a distance, that was already being marked out in the warm sand, of fifty metres or so up the beach. The challenge was eagerly accepted and the teams went about selecting their respective runners. I had a feeling the Bali boys had done this before as there seemed little debate on their behalf. After some discussion between the Aussies, a decision was made and both runners moved to the starting area behind the lanes.
The Indonesians have an incredible love of competition, no matter the form, and within seconds of the running lanes being marked in the sand, people from all over the beach, and some even from the road, headed toward the impromptu running track to gain the best vantage point for this final test of sporting prowess and I was becoming convinced this was not an umcommon scene for the locals. After a short time both sides of the lanes were lined with tourist and Balinese alike, and most were in lighthearted debate with the apposing supporters as to why their representative would win. One Balinese would judge their runner had thicker thighs so as to have stronger push off the sand. A tourist would counter the Australian had bigger feet, and as such have a larger surface area not allowing his feet to sink into the surface. A comment was even heard from a young Australian lass " The Bali dude is much hotter so he has to win", maybe not the most informed opinion but definately the one to invoke most laughter. So suffice to say, there was a greta deal of excitement in the air as the runners took their mark.
An older Balinese took the duties of starter and kindly counted in English to three and as agreed would clap his hands on the fourth, and they would be off. The first was a false start as I believe nerves had got to the lad from down under, and with being under the scrutiny of forty enthusiastic adjudicators on the sidelines, there was little chance of gaining advantage today.
The second start was a much fairer affair and both competitors got away cleanly, showering anyone who stood to close with a plume of fine sand. A roar went up from all of us as the the two young men powered down the beach and it was very obvious from the beginning the stockey Balinese lad was far to quick for our lad. Thrusting his head across the line all who was witness to the race applauded the success of the winner and he greatfully acknowledged us all running back down the lanes, hands held high while recieving congratulatory pats on the back.
Within ten minutes the small crowd had dissapated and it was as if the event had never taken place. The young Aussies had left, far from ashamed,and had no doubt gone in search of more girls to talk to. The victor of the race reclined against a tree smoking a cigarette and was reliving the race to some of his friends had been else where, and children were no longer swimming at the waters edge.Young lovers were leaving in pursuit of other romantic affairs and I went for one final swim for the day.
NOTE: Very short story today as I'm going away for two months tomorrow and have much to do.
Ham.