I'm sitting in Gado Gado restaurant, in Seminyak, on Bali's once-thriving southwest coast. I'm under cover but outside a monsoonal torrent is barrelling down, gobs of rain lashing the leaves of the cottonwood trees. Puddles form in seconds. Streams spring from nowhere. It's the kind of storm you could watch for hours, if only I had someone to watch it with. But, apart from the waiters, I'm the only one here.
A few years ago, I'd never have scored a table at Gado Gado, at least not without a booking. Now, the staff wander about, gazing into the rain - maybe they're hoping for it to wash away their problems. In the wake of the Kuta bombings of 2002, foreign arrivals dropped by half. Businesses failed. Workers were laid off. By 2004, tourism was recovering but then more bombs went off, in October 2005, killing 26 people in Kuta and nearby Jimbaran Bay.
Though smaller, this second attack proved more damaging than the first. Arrivals plunged 60 per cent; airline Garuda slashed its services while Paradise Air, which used to bring in 20,000 visitors monthly, went under.
For generations of travellers Bali has been the ultimate holiday destination. The island's allure began in the 1930s, when artists from Europe established tiny colonies in the central hills. In the 70s, hippies and surfers led the way for mass tourism, making Bali a home from home for anyone with US$100 in the bank and two weeks off work. An island of Hinduism in an ocean of Islam, Bali's exoticism remained intact throughout.
Then came the bombs. Sitting here watching the rain, it occurs to me if any good is to come from them it might be that visitors will go beyond Kuta, to find a Bali they never knew existed. That's my plan, anyway.
FROM KUTA to the fishing village of Canggu (pronounced Chungoo) is about 10km or 15km, depending on which turn-off you miss. In musical terms, this is just long enough to play most of side one of UB40's Greatest Hits.