A group of us headed out to explore the famous rice terraces in Ubud.
A crowd of tourists hung around the perimeter snapping photos and some clambered a little way down before giving up.
In flip flops and bare feet, we decided to hop and slide our way down the terraces to explore.
Why come all the way to simply stare and take a photo or two?
We crossed a bamboo bridge over a river and scrambled up the other side to explore nooks and crannies carved into the walls and watch the workers gather rice to carry in baskets on their backs.
The rice fields gleamed emerald in the afternoon sun as we walked passed small huts and golden shrines.
Unfortunately, the heavens opened and we ran back to try and take a little cover, with a couple the only other people in site huddled under the solitary dry space in their rain coats.
Having not thought very far ahead we hadn’t packed any waterproofs at all and after a while, we came to the conclusion we were getting soaked either way and should try and make a dash for it.
The rice terraces were becoming slippery with wet mud as we stumbled back along the path we had came from.
The rain became so torrential that we hid in a small empty bamboo hut for a while, hoping the owner would come back and be too irked?
Once the downpour had eased, we made one final dash up the terraces and emerged at the top, soaking wet and out of breath to the bemusement of other tourists and locals.
We sheltered in a small restaurant with a consolidatory beer to wait out the last of the rain before heading back; only for the heavens to open again half way through the scooter journey to sting our eyes, and end just as we arrived back at the hostel.
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