Bali

Bali is quite simply paradise. I imagine that whatever you’ve seen and read has not led you astray.
Sandwiched between two fifteen hour bus rides, I spent my four-day weekend surfing and attending Balinese traditional ceremonies. Hillary, a fellow Fulbrighter, has the good fortune to live in Denpasar, about fifteen minutes from the world famous Kuta Beach. I arrived bleary eyed and bedraggled on Friday morning, and spent the day dressed in a sarong and Balinese version of the do-rag, reciting Hindu incantations and dousing myself with holy water and rice (see photos).
Hillbo and I spent the afternoons on Kuta, Legian, and Seminyak beaches, where I rented a surfboard for three hours for the equivalent of two dollars. For an extra five dollars, I was given my first real lessons (sorry Caspary, Malibu doesn’t count).
The crowds weren’t what I expected them to be, which can be attributed to two factors: it being the beginning of the low season, and the spate of bombings that took place the same time last year. Hillbo and I spent some quality time (and money) at Seminyak’s nicer eating establishments, which included a swank on-the-beach lounge/resto/disco called KuDeTa – clever, no?
It was nice to get out of Madiun for the weekend, and to harken back to what it’s like to eat pasta and drink beer. But I actually did start to miss this place. It really has become a home of sorts.