Joe's Place

Joe’s Place, a bar that rested between Poppies I and II in Kuta, Bali, is a place that blended rocking rhythms, sweet friendships and cocktails, slightly altering my state of consciousness in a spicy smack of South East Asian synesthesia.

My brother and I dodged an onslaught of scooters to find Joe’s Place. Earlier, we’d met Marcus, a singer and guitarist, poolside at the Dewi Sri Hotel who invited us along to the bar. Eager for a broader Balinese experience, we journeyed past the lacy white memorial for the victims of the 2002 Bali Bombings and the bristling nightclubs and bars opposite.

Joe’s Place was open in form and spirit to the outside world. The coral red walls promised an atmosphere of warmth, and were painted with black line illustrations of musical instruments in the style of Reg Mombassa. Above the entrance, painted in gold, was the request to ‘Leave Your Ego at the Door.’

We loved Joe’s Place so much that we returned every night for the remainder of our trip, giving me time to ponder the subtler meaning of this statement. Everyone at Joe’s were so welcoming that soon even my shy younger brother had overcome his inhibitions and took to the microphone to sing with the band.

On the last night I sang harmony with Marcus to Leaving on a Jet Plane. Neither of us were louder than the other; each of us respecting the other musicians performing their parts. I was sad to leave. Rifling through my handbag I came across a tube of pink hemp oil lip balm. The word LOVE was printed across the label. I smiled. ‘Here,’ I said. ‘Something to remember me by.’ He gave me a dirty look and told me he wasn’t a lady boy. His English and my Indonesian had limits. Our communication was best through music.

When we came back to Perth, my brother bought a guitar and I continued to learn mine and, we started to play together, joined with the knowledge that beautiful music is always more than the sum of it’s parts, and only created when you leave your ego at the door.