I thought hawaii was a tropical romantical paradise, until I came to Bali.
I mean it is, but nothing in comparison.
Waking up in a plush villa sandwiched between two rice paddies every morning is serene. My husband does his morning circuit workout on the deck outside. I sip some tea in my robe on the balcony and marvel at the view of them both.
Its very humid here, much more than Kona. We slip into our private pool for a refreshing morning dip. We whisper as if we are going to wakeup the rest of the island. We hear nothing but the sound of the pool pump, farm roosters crowing, and later the neighbors singing their beautiful Hindu prayers before they begin their day.
Having a pool is unexpectedly romantic. As a beach bum, something I never thought I'd want is my own pool. This one changed my mind.
Mornings are our quality moments together. Sharing them here is especially lovely. Waking up in Bali is a dream come true.
The owners of our villa live next door to us. An italian man named Maurizio is part business man, part family man, and friendly as can be. His raspy godfather-like italian voice is fascinating to me, but not more than his wife Wayan. She's a smiley, kind eyed local Balinese woman who cooks us lavish breakfasts every morning at 8am sharp. Her fresh homemade juices are to die for. Papaya juice and watermelon juice are among my favorites. She whips up a delicious plantain pancake.
Before day's end she sets a new hand crafted offering on a beautiful stone shelf just outside the entrance to our villa. She lights insence and splashes water on it. I curiously asked about her ritual and her eyes lit up with great passion. "You must beliebe in Bali yes? Gibe many thanks ebery day. Its a small task por all that we are giben." She is right.
The maid is a sweet 21 year old local girl who comes every day while we are out and keeps this place seriously spotless. The pool boy comes twice per week. Our driver Ketut comes whenever we call. We can get full body Balinese massages right in our villa for 150,000 rupia (about $11) per hour.
I find myself felling guilty knowing that I can easily make my own bed, do my own dishes, cook my own breakfast, and drive my own car (although maybe not here).
We have a moped we like to ride after breakfast before it gets too hot out. I prefer a driver in the afternoon and evening as the roads here are complete organized chaos. There are no stop signs or stop lights. Everyone just kind of goes for it. The locals use a lot of teamwork to get to where they are going. If you hear a horn beep its more of a friendly signal than a warning here. Very unlike america where every man is for himself and a horn blare is the equivalent of picking a fight mid road rage. Its a crazy experience driving on the opposite side of the road. The lines are more of suggestions as people weave all over them, over sidewalks, between cars and trucks. We even saw a family of 4 packed onto one moped. Its a sight to be seen.
If you're low on gas all you have to do is pull over at a little shack that sells "Petrol" out of old absolute vodka bottles. For a couple bucks they will fill up your tank with a funnel and a smile.
I learned how to say thank you, how are you, you're welcome, good, good morning, and goodbye so far in Balinese. The language is very difficult to speak, even harder to understand, and impossible to spell.
Graham is wondering why I'm not in the pool right now, Wayan will be here with breakfast soon, then we are off on another scooter adventure. Here are some photos to wrap up this rambling morning blog.
Selamat Pagi from Bali. xoxo - VP
Photos by @child_indigo - follow for Bali through her lens.
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