During the Morning of the Earth surfer days of the early 70s, night life in Kuta was pretty basic. Either one was wandering the midnight trails through the coconut groves, stoned on magic mushrooms and trying to mind-meld with the cows that would continue grazing at night, their bells tinkling like starlight (or so it would sound to the Stoned One); or one was already long asleep on the kapok mattress upon the bamboo bed, the kerosene lantern dimmed low, dreaming of blue barrels. (Okay, there’d also be an ad-hoc party now and then, some of them even planned the day before — but generally, in those electric-less days, you went to bed pretty darn early)
Then there came Doggies Disco. I have no idea when it appeared, and who owned it. Not a frequent visitor — I think only twice — I have only the vaguest of memories, and I can’t guarantee their accuracy. What comes to mind: Two cement statues of six-foot high Bali mutts standing in front sweat box of a dance hall somewhere in the vicinity of where the Bali Bomb memorial is now located. Stinking hot. A disco ceiling ball. Saturday Night Fever. Lukewarm beer. Toilets straight out of Dante’s lower circles of hell — it was preferable to step outside and pee behind the nearest palm tree in the coconut grove. You’d cool off, too.