Arriving in Bali after dark last night allowed today to hold the thrill of my 6-year-old self on Christmas morning. Wide eyed, I fumbled over my own feet with my eyes fixated on the blue waters that had so sweetly lulled me to sleep only hours before. It was still very early and no one was wondering about so I took myself on a little tour of the property that would be my home for the next few days while I stayed at Lotus Bungalows in Candidasa. An infinity pool dropping your line of view comfortably upon the rolling waves only feet away, traditional beach chairs tucked into the small sandy pseudo-beach that actually separated the clear blue of the pristine pool from the tumultuous crashing waves, the wide-open dining area only steps behind me and the fragrant flowers and lush greenery only stole my attention for brief moments.

What I found particularly delightful was the huge, pillowed, bed-width, poolside lounger that stretched out warm and welcoming like the arms of the best kind of bear hug.  I couldn’t help but leap aboard the ginormous, boat sized, comfy, slumber party waiting to happen, complete with pillows enough for an entire college sorority pajama party.

The best part of traveling, especially alone, is the lack of plans.  The pure unadulterated possibilities that more often than not introduce you to a magic you could never had planned for, and, for an extrovert like myself, rarely leaves you alone for long. Today was no exception.

My afternoon was spent connecting with Laura Davis, an author, and actually the conduit for my being here in Bali.  Laura is a fabulous writing instructor and I (obviously) am in desperate need of her expertise. What was unexpected was the amazing adventure we got to share. With gentle prodding she lead me to an afternoon of sheer humiliation, culturally inappropriate attire, oh yeah, and a most incredibly fabulous time!

As I heard the rev, smelled the exhaust, and struggled to squeeze my head into the cue ball white helmet, I knew today would be unforgettable.

I have never ridden on a scooter before and with a pretty healthy fear of what we at my trauma center refer to as ‘donor cycles’, I was expecting the rock in my stomach to quickly become a reasonable excuse to cut the trip short (as GI upset is a well respected plague of the recently arrived traveler).  Instead it was replaced with a Cheshire grin that left me the comedy relief for every passing local, that didn’t go away, even with my teeth resembling fly paper in the south on a hot summer day.  I could not stop giggling like a little schoolgirl and I LOVED it!

I continued to be the laughing-stock of Candidasa and surrounding towns when our venture through the local villages and terrain landed us in a torrential downpour. The sky opened up and rained giant drops of bathwater. It was warm and refreshing and delightful! I have always loved the rain, but this was like a ride through a tropical wonderland of sensation, color, and fragrance. Not to mention completely soaking us to the point where we legitimately looked like we had gone swimming with our clothes on.

We continued our journey snaking through the green countryside stopping intermittently to snap photos, when on one of our stops I suddenly realized I may have been dressed mildly inappropriately for the conservative culture.  Who am I kidding?!? The way my flesh shown through those wet t-shirt-contest winning white pants would have been inappropriate anywhere, except maybe a Vegas strip club where, with my curves, I would expect to walk away with at least an honorable mention *grin*.

But for now, while here in Bali, I could count on the children to laugh,

the women to avert their eyes,  and the men to politely act like my indiscretion didn’t exist.

and I just have to appreciate each of them all the more.

This place is indescribably beautiful, the people unbelievably kind, and I am humbled by the sheer joy and gratitude I have for being here.

Welcome to Bali.