Aspirational

The last time I went to Bali, I was traveling with someone who didn’t really care too much for food. He was allergic to shellfish, didn’t like fish or pork, wasn’t too fond of vegetables, and wasn’t at all partial to strong spices or Asian cuisines. And he didn’t drink.


This made our restaurant outings somewhat problematic, because Bali has some spectacular restaurants which offer a five star experience… for the same price as a pub meal in Perth. And I was with someone who didn’t want to eat in them.


So I’ve made plans to return to Bali, this time with a fellow foodie, to sample the high end delights of its finest and most celebrated restaurants.


Joining us on this epicurean odyssey is another one of my little plastic friends.





I have dubbed him Senor Putaloco, because he needed some sort of name, and I’m just that racist.