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SNOWING IN BALI

tattoos, sitting on motorbikes, smoking, talking, waiting, and watching through old binoculars.

‘I see straight away the fools there.’

There was a bang on the door downstairs. It was a surf photographer friend: ‘Hey, Rafael, let’s go for a surf.’

Rafael called him upstairs and passed him the binoculars. ‘Man, you’ve come at a bad time, I’m gonna be busted soon. Look in the bushes, the cops are out there; they’re so stupid, they’re easy to see.’

The photographer turned to Rafael: ‘Why don’t you run?’

‘Run where? Anyway, I don’t need to run . . . I don’t have anything here, so fuck them, let them come . . . let’s go, the fools can wait.’

With their surfboards tucked under their arms, the two walked down the palm-lined driveway into the street, past the conspicuous undercover cops. Within a couple of minutes they were paddling out, where Rafael planned to stay for a while to spite the cops and delay the inevitable.

I know as soon as I come out, they are going to come. I didn’t have any drugs in the house but I was a little bit worried because in my position I don’t want any contact with police.

Almost two hours later, Rafael came out of the water and sensed the cops snapping to attention. He walked across the sand with his friend to the little beachfront café, sat down and ordered breakfast. They could wait a bit longer.

Two Balinese police came and sat next to them, blatantly listening, but with no hope of comprehending. ‘Look, this motherfucker thinks I don’t know he’s a cop,’ Rafael said in Portuguese. ‘He’s gonna try to fuck me soon.’

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