Trevor Laffan: An island where everyone is happy, smiling, and pleasant

They call Bali the Island of the Gods. There are statues and images of strange-looking creatures everywhere, usually partially covered with black and white chequered fabric.

The fabric has an equal number of black and white squares for balance. A kind of yin and yang.

The Balinese people believe that for every good, there is an evil, so it’s all about maintaining equity.

The island’s population displays its gratitude to the Gods through offerings called ‘canang sari’, little dishes of flowers and food left all over the place. You find them on statues, on footpaths, outside shops, and you often have to step over them.

I visited Bali with my wife in December and it was an eye-opener - in a good way.

The first thing you can’t help but notice is the humidity. It slaps you in the face the minute you leave the sanctuary of the air-conditioned airport. We were there for a week and even the hotel air conditioning struggled to keep us cool.

It was the start of their rainy season, so to look out the window in the morning and see the rain belting down, the grey skies overhead, and the trees and bushes blowing in the wind, it immediately reminded you of home. In the cool of the air-conditioned room, it’s easy to forget you have left Ireland behind.

As soon as you open the patio door though, you are in no doubt that you have landed in the tropics. The wall of heat brings on an instant sweat-fest, just like opening a giant oven door to check the meat.

It is oppressive, but you soon learn there are two choices. You can either fight it to stay dry, which is absolutely impossible, or you can give in to it and embrace the wetness. Accept that the lovely clean, dry t-shirt you just put on is going to end up in a puddle of sweat as soon as you walk out the door.

A couple of minutes later, the underwear and shorts will be in the same condition, so you sit down for breakfast with a squelch.

I gave up drinking tea or coffee in the morning because it only made matters worse.

I also figured out that mosquito repellent was essential in the morning too, because the mozzies in Bali don’t limit their activity to dawn and dusk. They’re quite happy to carry out ambushes at any hour of the day.

It might sound from this that we had a terrible time, but far from it.

We stayed in the Puri Santrian Hotel, a low-level complex spread over a large compound with several pools, restaurants and other amenities set in a jungle-type atmosphere. You can lay out on a sun lounger by the pool, or take a few steps to get onto the beach. It is idyllic.

It takes a large staff to run the place, and each and every one of them made us feel welcome. In my cynical senses, I initially thought this was an act put on for the tourists. Everyone said ‘hello’ and smiled as they went about their business, and nothing was too much trouble.

The staff dressed immaculately in traditional garb, sarongs and sandals, and I thought the niceness was just part of the package. But I was wrong.

As we moved about during the week and did some exploring, we discovered that everyone was the same. There was no unpleasantness. It was all manners, respect, and smiles wherever we went.

A taxi driver called Sam collected us at the airport when we arrived in Bali and brought us to our hotel, which was half an hour away. The taxi was pre-booked and pre-paid and neither of us had cash for a tip. He had no understanding of Revolut, so we were goosed.

I explained our predicament and he only smiled and thanked us for visiting his country. He was such a pleasant and knowledgeable guy that we took his number and booked him later in the week to take us on a sight-seeing tour of the island.

He turned up bang on time and we headed off to God knows where. We left it up to him.

The first thing I noticed was the traffic. The streets nearby were extremely narrow, and the predominant mode of transport was the light Vespa-type motor scooter. They were everywhere and there seemed to be no rules.

One bike passed me, and it was driven by an adult with two children riding behind him and two more in front. I have no idea how they all managed to fit, but there wasn’t a sign of a helmet. This isn’t unusual.

They were whizzing in and out of traffic from both sides, crossing in front of each other. It was chaotic.

Sam said Balinese people are easy- going and they all look out for one another. There is no such thing as road rage and the main thing for them is to remain calm.

When the traffic was heavy, nobody blew their horn, they just waited patiently until they got going again.

We were out for the day, and the smiling and pleasantness continued wherever we went, so it wasn’t merely done for the tourists in the hotel.

Sam explained that it was just the way of the people, to be gentle, helpful, and friendly.

I’m not sure how they have managed to maintain that way of life, given the amount of external influences they have to contend with. It’s a hugely popular holiday destination, particularly with the Australians, and I would hate for those gentle, humble people to be contaminated by outside forces.

I’d love to say I’ll be back some day, but it’s a hell of a journey to Bali, and that is the only downside.