I’m sweating profusely. My skin is tingling with the inevitable sunburn. I see a mosquito, and wonder if it carries Dengue fever… but I am utterly content.
I’ve been in Bali for two days, and to my pleasant surprise, I’m already in love.
I’ve been lucky enough to see a significant amount of our beautiful planet, but this is a first time in a couple of big ways. My first time in Asia (other than airports), and my first time in a developing nation.
I expected it to be confronting, and while the stray animals and the rubbish certainly snag a thorn in my heart, there is something so beautifully raw and human about this place.
People are kind. They want to help you. They want to feed you, shelter you, show you around.
The culture is tangible. Offerings to the gods are prepared fresh and laid out everywhere each and every day to bless the space. The smell of insence lingers on the air, and I can already predict the nostalgic association.
As I write this, I am on the road between Kuta and Ubud. Seven humans and ten bags are piled into an average sized car. The car karaoke is going strong, the aircon is struggling to keep us from becoming a writhing pile of human noodles, literal noodles are being passed around that we got for $1 next to our AirBnB. Every time we pass a temple, I slap my hands on the window and drink it in, wide-eyed.
Now we’re at a waterfall and I didn’t wear my swimmers (again) but I wade in and spot the sun filtering through the thick wall of vines high above me and feel a sense of peace I’ve only ever known when I am somewhere new, in the depths of Mother Nature.
The allure of Bali has wafted into my soul and I know I won’t be forgetting it in a hurry.
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