Ah, Bali Belly. It’s the enfant terrible of the cheap tropical holiday, so severe and so reliable that it put me off escaping to the island of the gods for a good five years – and that was before Covid happened.
Friends, too, harbour haunted tales of their iron guts being not so bulletproof when on Australia’s favourite getaway isle. Many remain scarred. Even with the return of easy travel and affordable flights, those panicked memories of not knowing which end to point at the toilet first have them throwing pins at different parts of the world map.
And yet, there’s hope. On my recent, tentative return to Bali, I didn’t get sick – not even once. I went a second time, committed, as I am, to thorough gastrointestinal research. I submitted myself to experiments involving sound insider knowledge and astute culinary choices – high and low end.
I didn’t lick the pavement but I reckon I’ve cracked the Bali Belly curse. Once again, I can travel to Bali without dining anxiety. Fancy knowing how it’s done?