I had always said I would never go to Bali.

Never.

Too many tourists, too much development and, quite frankly, far too many Australians who seemed to have flown all the way to Indonesia to spend their holiday surrounded by other Australians.

There were plenty of places in the world I wanted to visit and Bali simply wasn’t one of them.

Then we found ourselves with a desperate need to get on a plane and go somewhere, but not enough time to go very far.

And so I did exactly what I had said I would never do.

I went to Bali.

We did, however, give the beach resorts a miss and headed inland to Ubud, up in the hills, where I hoped we might find a slightly quieter version of the island.

We stayed at Alam Indah, a lovely little collection of bungalows tucked into tropical gardens just outside the centre of town. There was a pool overlooking a deep green valley and the whole place felt wonderfully peaceful.

It was far enough away from the crowds to feel like an escape, but close enough that we could walk into Ubud when we wanted to.

Perfect.

There was, however, one slight complication.

The hotel was right beside the famous Monkey Forest.

Which meant monkeys.

Lots of monkeys.

They wandered through the hotel grounds as though they owned the place, which, to be fair, they probably thought they did.

They looked adorable from a distance.

They were not.

They were nasty little creatures with an impressive ability to spot anything remotely interesting, steal it and then become deeply offended if you attempted to get it back.

The hotel staff were well prepared and carried slingshots and pea shooters to discourage them from getting too comfortable.

This seemed slightly extreme until you had spent a little time with the monkeys.

Then it seemed perfectly reasonable.

We wandered through the Monkey Forest itself, with its enormous old trees, moss-covered stone walls and temples disappearing into the jungle. It was cool and shady beneath the canopy and, away from the main paths, surprisingly peaceful.

As long as you kept an eye on the monkeys.

Outside town we walked through rice fields where narrow tracks wound between brilliant green paddies, little huts sat among the crops and palm trees filled the horizon. This was much closer to the Bali I had hoped to find.

Back in Ubud we regularly found ourselves at Café Wayan, which was owned by the same family who ran Alam Indah.

The story of how the family business began was one of those wonderful examples of simply spotting an opportunity when it wandered past.

The father originally had a small rice and coffee stall on the track leading towards the Monkey Forest, selling coffee and food to local workers.

Then tourists began wandering down the track.

They bought coffee too.

So he added a few snacks.

More tourists came.

More food followed.

And from that little roadside stall grew Café Wayan, followed eventually by hotels and a much larger family business.

I loved the simplicity of it.

People wanted coffee.

He sold them coffee.

Then he sold them lunch.

Eventually he sold them somewhere to stay.

We spent our days wandering around Ubud, through the markets and streets, out into the surrounding rice fields and back into the cool gardens of Alam Indah when we had had enough.

And, despite all my declarations about never setting foot in Bali, I enjoyed myself.

Alam Indah was lovely, Ubud was interesting and it was a very pleasant place to stop for a few days and do very little.

But would I rush back?

Probably not.

Even in Ubud the traffic and development were already creeping in, and parts of town felt considerably more commercial than the peaceful artistic village I had imagined.

Still, Bali had proved me wrong about one thing.

I had said I would never go.

And I did.

I just wasn’t quite ready to buy the Bintang singlet.