'One dollar. One dollar." A woman pushes a carved box into my hands, forcing me to hold it. "One dollar."
A child approaches from the side. "Twenty thousand rupiah," she says, in her hand a selection of postcards. "Twenty thousand."
She, too, shoves the postcards into my hands.
"No. Don't want. Not now."
But the pushing continues.
"After we have had some lunch," I say, pointing to the café on the hill of a rice paddy field near Ubud.
We had travelled from Club Med south of Denpasar along roads lined with shops and factories - some specialising in ornate carved wooden doors and windows, others in gaudy kites, jewellery, teak and rattan furniture, shell tableware, carvings, masks or picture frames.
Many of the goods are familiar to South Africans - Balinese craft has found its way into high-end decorating stores, furniture and décor chain stores and not-so-high-end flea markets here.
We walk down the steep steps away from the insistent sellers into the café, where we settle down on cushions next to a low table. The view is of the paddy fields and tall trees with papaya and coconuts.
In the distance a single worker tends the land, water trickles down channels into the fields to flood them. It's quiet after the ruckus of the street above.
A toothless Balinese man with skin leathered by too many years in the sun slips silently onto the deck.
He pushes a homemade rattan hat into my hand. The one on his head is dried and yellow - the one in my hand is green, newly made. I shake my head and return the hat.
But he, too, won't take no for an answer. We tell him we have only big money - 50 000 rupiah notes (about R50) - and once we have change from lunch we will give him some money.
He settles down comfortably next to us, crossing his legs on the deck while we decide what to eat. The menu includes a variety of traditional Indonesian dishes - Nasi Goreng, satay, beef randang - all at about 40 000 rupiah (about R40). I have chicken satay, which arrives with a cone of sticky white rice and peanut sauce with a chilli kick.
There is more than a chilli kick to the traders as we emerge from the café. The woman who offered me a carved box for one dollar now has a different price, 100 000 rupiah.
"Earlier you said it was one dollar," I say.
"One dollar for one of these," she slips open the box to reveal delicately carved chopsticks. "One hundred thousand."
"Too much," I replied.
"How much?"
"Fifty."
She grabs the box from my hand, shakes her head.
"Seventy."
The deal is struck, and I imagine that now I have bought the box I will be left alone to wander up the road and look at the other shops.
No chance. Four or five people, including the child with the postcards, move in.
"Fifty," a man says as he pushes a box similar to the one I had just paid 70 000 for into my hands. He will not let me return the box. A woman thrusts another two carved boxes, different design, at me. "Two for 100," she repeats several times in a high-pitched voice.
"You promised ," wails the child.
"Twenty," bleats another child selling pencils. I buy the pencils, pay 50 000 rupiah for the box with the chopsticks, 70 000 rupiah for two boxes and then run for what I hope is the quiet of a shop. "Come in, I'll give you a packet," the shopkeeper offers.
Her husband takes my pile of boxes from my hands and puts them in a plastic bag. He holds the goods firmly behind his back.
"Traditional batik," the woman says. "Let me open so you can see."
She flaps the sarong on the top of a pile open.
"Don't like," I say.
"See another," she dives into the pile flinging open sarongs.
"You like? Traditional design. One hundred thousand rupiah."
I shake my head but realise, by the determination in which my other shopping is being held hostage, I am not going to get out of there without a sale.
I touch a handbag.
"Made by my old mother's hands," the woman claims of the mass-produced plastic rattan-style bag.
"Oh yeah," I think, but buy it anyway along with a sarong for a total of 50 000 rupiah.
My other goods are returned - and the only sanctity is the car about 50m down the road. I run for it - with the child brandishing postcards at my heels.
"You promised me. You promised me."
Poor kid - I never did buy those postcards.
The trip to our next destination was not far as the crow flies but the potholed narrow roads and endless scooter drivers made it slow going.
Everybody in Bali seems to drive scooters, many without helmets.
Several mothers transport their children on the back, she with a helmet, the child without.
Others adapt their scooters as delivery vans; handmade contraptions carry water bottles, vegetables and spare parts.
Along the way, makeshift billboards line the roads. Indonesia is about to have an election and the ballot paper has more than 40 parties represented on it. The billboards give details of the person, party and number on the ballot paper.
"My party is number four," our taxi driver tells us.
About an hour after leaving the paddy fields, we arrive at the Tanah Lot Temple. According to Wikipedia, the name means "Land in the middle of the sea" and the temple was built, it's believed, in the 15th century as a place to worship sea gods.
It is carved from rock, although some restored parts are now made from artificial rock.
In order to reach the temple it's necessary to walk through hundreds of shops that line the route to the end.
But this time and perhaps because of the captive audience, the sellers do not seem so interested in us.
Many shops announce "fixed price".
Most have nothing special to offer - T-shirts, sarongs, fans, and bits and bobs for tourists to pick up as presents or mementos of their trip.
The most interesting, or perhaps disturbing, sight is a fruit bat which listlessly flaps its wings in the searing 35°C 100 percent humidity heat. Underneath the bat is a box for donations.
Within the temple walls the commercialism doesn't stop, although the space seems to be reserved for something a little out of the ordinary - art and craft shops set up in ancient stone Balinese houses that have shingled roofs with upturned corners.
Here antediluvian moss-covered stone statues of winged lions with bulbous eyes and ferocious toothy grins and other mythical creatures contrast with vivid contemporary paintings that parody the modern Balinese way of life.
Down at the temple pilgrims mix with tourists, and for a donation you can see a sacred snake and drink from a sacred spring and be blessed.
Many do go through the ritual but most admire the temple as the sun prepares to set on another beautiful Balinese day.
Our taxi driver is anxious to get back - he wants to ensure we are able to visit the local market where his wife has a shop before we return for dinner at Club Med.
Of course, we must go to his wife's shop.
That is why we came to Bali - to shop.
An all inclusive paradise where they sweep the beach
I sit on the hot sand - my feet touching the warm salty water - and know my sleepless 10-hour flight from Joburg to Singapore, plus another two-and-a-half-hour flight to Denpasar, Bali, have been worth it.
When we arrived at Club Med Bali a few hours earlier we were handed an orchid garland, iced tea and shown to our rooms by GOs in fuschia T-shirts.
I was later to learn that GO stands for gentle organiser - and the mostly young men and women play a critical role in making guests stay as much fun as possible.
The room was a cool retreat from the searing heat, the shower welcome, and after a quick rest it was time to explore the Club Med village. The beach, with its pristine white sand, palm trees and bright blue clear sea is the very cliché of paradise.
As the sun goes below the horizon and a full moon rises, this is a place, I decide, to restore balance.
And later as we sip cocktails at the newly built modern bar area I also realise that this is a place where you can party as much as you can retreat.
I was part of invited media for the relaunch of Club Med Bali. The organisers had arranged a couple of busy days for us - cocktails, dinners, parties, fireworks, the contortionist from the Moscow Circus and, on the more serious side, a press conference with CEO Henri Giscard d'Estaing.
The relaunch came with a redesign of the bar into a shimmering modern focal point.
The Balinese theme still exists in sculptures, furniture, and décor inside the rooms, reception areas and restaurants. Club Med's aim is to create contented holidays; ones where people can feel relaxed, enriched and happy.
"Happiness" sounds less elusive when pronounced with d'Estaing's French accent - but the concept is that people can have a fabulous holiday including flights, transfers, food, drinks and entertainment on an all-inclusive basis - in other words, a fixed budget.
This encompasses various sports and activities, including training and equipment.
Young children and teens are looked after by specially trained staff with three categories: Petit Club Med for 2 to 4 years old, Mini Club Med from 4 to 11 and Junior Club Med from 12 to 18.
A day-time hit for the younger kids is the circus school, with a flying trapeze for the older ones.
The venue also has a golf course - and for an extra fee a spa where guests can get a massage of their choice. And as you walk along the beach locals offer "massage, massage".
Food at the restaurants reflects the multi-cultural atmosphere at the resort, with both Eastern and Western cuisine.
D'Estaing remains optimistic that Club Med will weather the economic downturn because it offers holidays with budget control and quality of service.
An early morning walk - yet again on the private beach - reveals just how the staff here make the stay seem so effortless.
An army of workers prepare the grounds for the throng of guests - the lawn is mowed, cushions are placed on the chairs, paths swept and the jungle tamed.
The beach, too, is swept - so that morning, my footprints were the first to be imprinted on the white sand.
There has to be something special in that.
But it's also the danger of the allure of this piece of paradise - that guests will never experience the chaos and charm of the real Bali.
- Cecilia Russell was a guest of Club Med South Africa. We were flown to Bali by Singapore Airlines, and Singapore Tourism hosted us for a day.