Somewhere around day four in Ubud, I ate something from a street cart that my stomach was not prepared for. I spent the next 36 hours alternating between my hostel bed and the bathroom in a kind of delirious loop.

But here's the thing — I'd go back tomorrow.

The first three days were perfect

I flew into Denpasar with one backpack and no hotel booked past the first night. People told me this was reckless. It wasn't. There are literally hundreds of guesthouses in Ubud and most of them cost $12-15 a night for a clean room with a fan.

Day one I rented a scooter for 70,000 rupiah (about $4.50) and drove to Tegallalang rice terraces. Every travel blog has photos of this place and they all look the same — impossibly green, perfectly layered, almost fake-looking. In person it's exactly that but the humidity hits you like walking into someone's mouth. Not photogenic, that part.

The food before it betrayed me

Babi guling (suckling pig) at Ibu Oka — I waited 45 minutes in line and it was worth every second. There's a crispiness to the skin that I've never experienced anywhere else. The sambal matah they serve alongside is this raw shallot and lemongrass thing that I've been trying to recreate at home for months. Can't get it right.

Nasi campur from random warungs was my go-to lunch. $2-3 for a plate piled with rice, vegetables, egg, some kind of meat, and sambal. You eat with your hands (right hand only) and it just tastes better that way. I don't know why.

The recovery

A German girl at my hostel named Katrin gave me electrolyte packets she'd brought from home. An Indonesian guy at the front desk brought me rice porridge twice without me asking. A couple from Melbourne checked on me every few hours.

I'd been traveling solo for three weeks at that point and these strangers showed me more care in 36 hours than some friends have in years. That's not a dig at my friends — it's a thing about travel. When you're vulnerable in a new place, the kindness hits harder.

Would I change anything?

I'd maybe skip that particular cart. Maybe. But honestly the food poisoning forced me to slow down. I'd been doing the typical "see everything" tourist hustle and those two forced rest days in Ubud actually let me experience the town instead of just visiting it. I read a whole book. I watched geckos on the ceiling for an hour. I had the best conversation of my trip with Katrin over terrible instant coffee.

Sometimes the worst part of a trip becomes the story you actually want to tell.