(Not that she needs it but I’m sure she appreciates it)

I live across from a man who makes sculptures. Deities and demons, beings and creatures of all kinds. One at a time, just him. I imagine he works off commissions, and has an endless line of work ahead of him. Next to him is a big field, with a huge banyan tree in the middle, and a wooden bench wrapped around it. A massive sarong is draped around the waist of the tree to signify that there is an entity inside. I sit and lean my back against that god and look up at his branches. 

The birds still sing their heart out in the mornings, if I am outside to listen. The stars are out most nights, if I am outside to look. The frogs, or something makes the weird electric zing sound at night, still. Even the yelp of the water trucks as they frantically charge up the hills brings me that unique Bali feeling. And sometimes as I am driving, I hear a snippet of that iconic Balinese gamelan that used to be the only music played in massage parlors and restaurants. Magnum bars. The same amount of sugar as a Pocari. Let that one sink in. 

My friend Dani tells me “drive slow” on the scooter “why not.” I appreciate the old time people who just cruise along at a snail pace, as far left as they can go. Sometimes I feel like driving fast, though, not too fast, but just fast enough to feel free. Glance to the left over the bridge and look at the ocean. I like to think I'm checking the waves but I’m really just seeing and making sure that the ocean is still blue. I’ve never been to Jeffrys Coffee Shop. No offense, but my heart’s at Lands End. There is one constellation of stars to the East that will always look like a jellyfish to me. I’ve never seen it anywhere else. There’s a lalapan spot next to Bulgari Hotel that is only open from 7 until 8 or maybe 9. And often not even then. Sometimes I’m in bed by 7 so it’s hard for me to eat there even though I always want to. I got bitten by a big gecko last month as I picked it up to help it cross the street. I had two trapezoid angled fang marks on my index finger in the shape of its mouth and showed my friends at dinner. 

Ibu Ketut comes down from her house to my house every morning carrying her special knife with her daughters face on it, and cuts leaves in the garden alongside flowers for offerings. How pure is that morning routine? The flowers are all blossoming right now, hibiscus and plumeria. A little rain and then a whole lot of sunshine. I better go check the cow fields. My healer will heal me any time I need her and her son softly talks to her while I’m lying on the floor. Her little new kitten Lara jumps up and meows in my lap. Tonight she massaged me for two hours because I was sad, drenching my face and hair in oil, doused me in coconut water and holy water (3x), somehow knew I was on my period and wouldn’t let me into her temple, then put rice on my forehead. 

I’m more superstitious than ever. Three means a lot to me. When I put my stuff in the cabinet in the warungs before I surf, I try to find a good number. I notice that all the good numbers are taken when the surf is big and I’m the last one out. I surfed a couple days ago when it was big and everyone was on a strike mission to somewhere, so there was only 4 of us out. A rogue set came through from the west, the water pushing against itself to form a peak that was building to the right of me instead of to the left. I paddled slowly but strongly and broke out in a grin. For the first time, I felt absolutely at ease, my heart beating with joy. This is where I’m meant to be. 

Bali, I’ll always love you. 

KT