I have been to Bali twice. I'm not likely to go back.
There is nothing wrong with the little Australian Summer Paradise, it was just so darn dirty when I last visited. Kuta beach is know for surfing, hardcore haggling beach vendors and magic mushrooms. When I decided to spend a little vacation time in Indonesia, it was mainly my goal to get some surfing done that drove me to Bali. A mission that failed.
I land around 10pm, and take a cab to the hotel in Seminyak, the more upscale and quiet area just north of Kuta. Turns out it's new year's eve. Yes, once again it's a new year celebration. Bali does not follow the Western, Chinese or Persian calendar, they celebrates new year in March apparently. That meant that on my first day on vacation, it was strictly forbidden to leave the hotel compound. According to legend, the people of Bali scared the evil spirits away on new year's eve, and then hid themselves on the first day of the new year - tricking the evil spirits into thinking Bali was a deserted island. So on this day you are supposed to be still, quiet and not eat. Meditate and start the new year on a clean slate I guess.
I spent half the day struggling with power adapters, computer dilemmas and lousy internet connection (sort of the opposite of meditation). The second half of the day I was happily sunbathing by the pool, making sure I did not miss last chance for food at 5.30 pm. TV was completely shut off this day and as it turned out most electricity as well. When the sun had set I went in to my villa and decided to read a book. Only a few pages into the story I get a call from the reception.
"Sorry Miss, your room very bright, can you close the lights?"
"Yes, of course! Sorry, very sorry!"
"Thank you"
I switch off the lights. It was 7.30 pm and I went to bed.
Next day we were all allowed outside and so I made full use of the opportunity and rented a car with a driver for the day. Cruising around the island we saw a volcano, a lake, many many temples, stopped for some sightseeing (art gallery and coffee that is) in Ubud, and checked out the impressive new-year statues and sculptures built out of papier-mache. These scary looking and often huge papier-mache monsters were made by the local boys and paraded through town on New Year's eve. 
According to a British guy that was traveling the world attending carnivals this particular event was entertaining but horribly bad organized. One could never be really sure of when those boys would be going around town, and therefor he had spent the entire day drinking bear looking at the street life that was now and then interrupted by a sporadic parade. He concluded that generally speaking the street life in Bali is not very exciting, the local bear taste better and better the more you drink and when locals say that something is local - it means it's local.
Moving from Seminyak to Kuta for my last days on Bali I was hoping for some action. First stop: the beach. It took a long time and a minor sandstorm before I could successfully negotiate myself into a reasonable priced sunbed. Two garbage collecting trucks where going up and down the beach in a vain attempt to rid our sun-kissed view of cigarette buts, picnic left overs and other trash. So far so good. Minus the sandstorm. Then I hit the water. And then I get straight back up. I had plastic bags around my legs, empty bottles hitting my waist and all kinds of general shit floating around ALL OVER. It was like going for a swim in a sewage. Yuk. Bye-bye surfing plans.
Action is now instead sourced at night. Trying my luck, ehrm, at the pubs and disco's around town, I quickly realized why magic mushrooms are legal. You need them to survive the crappy nightlife. To be fair I am probably around ten years too old, alternatively 30 years too young, to fit the target audience of Bali-lovers. Well, it just wasn't a lot of fun. Plus the ice-cream places were not that good as well.
'Nuff said. Next holiday: New York. *fingers crossed* or maybe Thailand.
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