Sometimes a travel day begins tropically – and ends smelling of baked apple. Today it was first: 'Bye Siddhartha, hello Yuda – and off to Ubud.'"

Before the departure, however, one last breakfast at the Siddhartha Oceanfront Resort & Spa was on the agenda. We had already packed the previous evening, so after breakfast only the last small things had to go into the suitcases.

Punctually at 9:30 AM, the suitcase service was already on our terrace. With a tear in one eye, we left this special place directly by the sea. In the lobby, Yuda was already waiting for us beaming – our guide from two years ago. Back then we had experienced a beautiful, relaxed tour with him. That he should accompany us again this time was therefore no question. Especially since we had kept in touch via WhatsApp the whole time.

After a warm farewell – including a big hug with Barbara, the boss, and Made, the lovable driver who had picked us up from the airport – we practically fell into Yuda's arms. A bit of small talk, a friendly smile, and already we were in the car on the way to our first destination: Pura Besakih, the "mother temple" of Bali.

Two years ago we had already been here – though shortly before closing time and in gray weather.

This time we wanted to take more time. Yuda drove calmly and carefully as always. He decided against the mountain route as the weather there was too uncertain and instead took the longer but safe way around. His serenity is infectious every time. Arriving at the temple: gray again. But at least dry – initially. Park, pay entry, have a sarong tied on, and then take the shuttle up. The way back you go on foot – at least if you can.

Up there, the sugary sweet girls who sell postcards and souvenirs were waiting again. New this time were "Instagram photographers". Seb and I looked at each other – and spontaneously agreed. For 30,000 IDR (1.50 euros), you can also just join in.

But then the sky opened its floodgates. And how! Massive rain. Umbrellas were handed to us and we walked up the steps until we finally found shelter under a corrugated iron roof – at a vendor's stall.

Cold drinks. Heavy humid air. This feeling of sweating and getting soaking wet at the same time. The vendor understood her business. First she gave each of us a snake fruit. This time I was lucky – juicy, sweetish, almost like a mixture of pineapple and something of its own. Yuda explained to us later again that there are several varieties. Some are dry and draw every bit of moisture out of your mouth – this one was perfect.

As it continued to pour, I strolled through her small shop. And then it came to my first real negotiation. A small Buddha statue made of black lava stone had caught my eye. Negotiating is not my thing at all. Yuda had told us beforehand that a fair price lay somewhere between 100,000 and 180,000 IDR. She started at 300,000. In the end we paid 178,000. Not perfect – but for my first time, I was somehow proud.

For classification: 200,000 IDR are about 10 euros.

When the rain finally subsided, we strolled further through the temple complex. In the last two years, a lot had happened here: renewed walls, newly thatched roofs made of palm fiber, and even new temples under construction. Nevertheless, it was also green here again and again. At the edge of the path stood even papaya plants and somehow beautiful pagoda flowers. Also the "BVB spiders" known from last time were to be seen again. The spiders are called that by the locals because they have the colors of the football team. Black and yellow.

Towards early afternoon, hunger spoke up. Yuda suggested holding out for another hour and eating at the Bamboo Café – a place he often visits with his family. No sooner said than done. With cookies we bridged the time until arrival and enjoyed the view during the comfortable drive there.

From a somewhat remote parking lot, we were driven by shuttle through an impressive bamboo forest. Huge, almost infinitely high stalks – Yuda told us they grow here up to 30 cm a day. Despite the rain, it was magical. The food: excellent. Large portions, fresh, delicious – and in total just under €9 for the three of us. And the most important thing: our stomachs tolerated it. That is worth a lot here.

Right next to it was a traditional Balinese village – our next destination.

At first it seemed deserted. But around the next corner, countless students suddenly waited. Many classes come from Java here on an excursion. Smiles, waving, curious looks everywhere.

We walked carefully over the wet cobblestone paths. Indeed "real" families live here – you practically enter their yards. At the entrance of each property it is stated how many men and women live there.

Yuda explained to us the ceremony areas with six pillars – places for weddings, festivals, but also lying-in-state. He also spoke about cockfights. A tradition that depressed me, to be honest.

Later he showed us old forms of living: small bamboo huts, everything in a very confined space, open fire. Hardly imaginable. Arriving at the village bell, we also learned how messages are spread by the mayor: three strikes for a birth, six for a wedding, nine for a death.

Unfortunately, time was running out on us again. So back to the car and on towards Ubud.

Shortly before Ubud, Yuda showed us where he lives – a lively place with a market, sports field, and community life. Actually also quite nice here. Shortly before the destination, we directly made an appointment again for January 12th: rainforest and rice terraces are then on the plan. Arriving at the ARMA Museum & Resort, the temporary lobby was currently in the museum entrance as the main entrance is being renovated. Two employees accompanied us to our "private villa with pool". The way there was beautiful – green, detailed, enchanted. We stepped through a red door, almost like in a movie.

And then came the first damper.

Actually, we had booked a villa with a view of rice fields. Instead: trees. Wall. No panorama. Inside: separate areas – bedroom, dressing room with outdoor shower, behind it bathroom and gallery. But the closer I looked, the more my mood sank. Everything seemed old. Worn out. Rancid. Missing door handles. Dirty seating surfaces.

We didn't want to get directly worked up – so first to the dance performance directly behind our villa. Entrance: €15 for both of us. But the performance was okay – classic Balinese performance, an hour long.

Afterwards we went to the hotel's own restaurant. There we ordered only some small things – spring rolls and fries. The food from lunch was still sitting in our bellies. When paying, we saw that next to SeSeban's name was a completely different room number. We had 110 but 101 was on the slip.

Maybe they did put us in the wrong villa? So off to the reception. We asked there. Unfortunately, we were in the right villa assigned to us. We then also directly clarified that they should please do a complete basic cleaning tomorrow and repair a few things.

Back in the villa, we noticed more and more:
Holey curtains. Defective light switches. A shower head that hardly deserves its name. Sockets hanging out of the wall. Dirty seat cushions. Showering was… let's say bizarre. Since the shower head was so calcified that only a few nozzles worked at all, it took a while to adjust the shower so that you don't get bruises from the water jets but enough water still comes out so that you also get wet.

And then came perhaps the most bizarre surprise of the day:
The shower gel smelled intensely of apple.
The shampoo clearly and no less intensely of cinnamon.

In combination, that meant: after showering, you smelled original like baked apple. Baked apple? On Bali? In tropical humidity and 28 degrees? Somehow completely inappropriate for the region – and at the same time again not. After all, Christmas isn't that long ago, and in Germany it's probably snowing properly right now. While we stand here between palm trees and temples, we smell like a Christmas market stall in December. It was absurd. And a bit funny.

Unfortunately, the smirk quickly vanished again. My feet were so dirty after a few steps through the villa that I would have loved to shower again – this time without the cinnamon-apple aroma. In bed we first hunted ants. In addition, the air conditioning blew directly onto the bed again – so off with it.

Surprisingly, I still fell asleep quickly. My head usually makes no compromises with "animals in bed and feeling uncomfortable". But I was probably just too exhausted.

Seb, on the other hand, lay awake. And forged plans.

But more about that tomorrow.