Not Words But Meanings: I Fell In Love With Bali

It's taken me a while to get to writing this down since we were all out of commission for the past several weeks. We brought home from Bali the worst kinds of souvenirs - two amoebas, and three viruses. And our precious helper had typhoid. We were all a bit of a mess.

Remember how I came back from our first visit to Bali disenchanted? That's all changed now. I love the place.

When we learned that Pat's mom, sister, and nephew would be visiting us, we figured a trip to Bali together would be better than a week of smog and traffic in Jakarta.

Rana, D, Dax and I spent our first full day going on a bike tour with Bali Eco Tours. They drove us up for breakfast overlooking an active volcano, and then we rode bikes through the village roads of Ubud down to the bottom again.

I felt like I had stepped into a page of National Geographic. I kept thinking to myself, 'I can't believe I'm looking at this. Wow. Wow. Wow.' Meanwhile Rana was up ahead on her bike, one hand on the handlebars, the other in the air taking pictures and videos and selfies. That takes some serious talent. Photo credit for all these wonderful pictures goes to her.

Our guide was native Balinese, and he taught us some some wild things. Like when a child is born, the Balinese believe that the placenta is the child's twin. So they bury the placenta in their home, and prepare food for it every single meal. Forever.

We visited a traditional Balinese home, and observed somewhat awkwardly as this 92 year old woman wove baskets.

We learned that at the coming of age, young men and women have their top six front teeth filed. It is believed to take away their animal instincts. Our guide had not yet had his teeth filed. He said he is going to have them filed when he gets married, so he can get a better deal on multiple rituals at once...

We walked in some rice fields.

We drank some cat-poo-cino.

We looked at a holy (and massive) banyan tree.

At one point we rode through an absurd scene with chickens and feathers flying everywhere that I still can't quite process.

And we ate some delicious Balinese food at a restaurant at the end of the tour.

(These men were doing some sort of ceremony as we ate lunch.)

Turns out it takes my sister in law coming halfway across the world to show me some of the amazing things in our own backyard. Like kimchi in the supermarket beside our house. And reflexology at the spa in our complex.

And in Bali, this place.

This was a holy python.

She also found this monkey temple that was much less terror-inducing than the Monkey Forest in Ubud. We were the only ones there, and we had our own personal guide who walked with us and shoed away any hissing monkeys with her stick. She knew all of the monkeys individually, and told me when we were approaching the sneaky one who might try to snatch my glasses. Holy monkeys ... some more sneaky than others.

At the exit of the monkey temple, we came across a real-life batman. He was just there hanging out with 50 or so of his closest friends who happened to be flying foxes.

The guy even looked a bit like a bat, in his own endearing way.

Our last full day we hit the beach. We rented boogie boards and surf boards. We walked along the beach and choose 'a guy' to rent from, and then his little piece of beach became our own personal haven for as long as we had energy. He's got beach chairs and surfing lessons and cold drinks all ready.

(Side note: I like taking pictures on the beach. I can squish my feet in the sand up to my ankles, and I don't look quite as much like a giant as I usually do in family pictures!)

You can buy anything and everything at the beach. Massages, pedicures, sarongs, clothing, hats, sunglasses, watches, toys, bow and arrows. They all come to you, complete with full demonstration, whether you want it or not.

Say yes to one and you open the flood gates. Isn't that right, Rana?

There were some sobering moments when people shared their stories. Our taxi driver whose mother is at home in East Timor, dying. He wants to go see her, but he has no passport, and he cannot get back into his country legally. He would have to hire a human trafficker to take him through the jungle. But that would cost more than he has, and he can't risk being caught.

And the boy who is supporting his parents and siblings at home in Sulawesi by working in a massage parlour in Bali. It took him one full year to work off the cost of his training ($200), and now he is finally making an income to send back home.