Bali

Getting through the airport at Denpasar was quite something. I remembered what I’d been taught at Doi Suthep about using any moment to meditate and so I breathed, not breezed, through the endless queues and administration. I got to my hotel after 3am and thankfully slept. What the airport lacks in efficiency it makes up for in creative expression. It must be one of the most beautiful airports I have ever seen with an abundance of art of all types on every wall or even ceiling. I was too tired to photograph anything sadly, but not to tired to notice how stunning it is.

I left the generic airport Hilton in a rainstorm heading to Ubud. I have wanted to go for a long time and when Rosy told me that the last book my Mum read was ‘Eat Pray Love’ I had to put it on the list.

Driving through Denpasar I was struck by the number of temples - not Buddhist like Thailand but Hindu - and how intricate they all are. Brightly colored offerings sit on the steps as the world wanders by; the sacred and profane cheek by jowl.

There is a profusion of furniture workshops too and I got lost in wondering whether it was worth buying a container load to take back to Kenya. I am not here for that kind of thing, so just enjoyed watching the varied and impressive industry outside my window.

Paddy fields, rural villages, towns and shopping malls and a profusion of jungle and then Ubud. I had no expectations but was surprised to find so many people at the end of quite a long journey. I could not believe the number of thronging pedestrians, mopeds and cars - not discouraged by the distance or the rain.

I arrived at my guesthouse - I thought it would be cool to stay with a local family - but immediately regretted it. It was nice, very clean and private and my building was in the middle of the compound through the family temple - all very beautiful. However, it was on a moped cut through and the noise from the nearby road was not going to help me sleep. I headed out to meet some friends and have some food but realized as I headed back that I was dreading staying there for three nights.

I had seen an ad for a traditional fire dance and despite the rain, I headed there after supper. It was an amazing experience - a mix of home made and really amazing costumes and performances. After the tragic story of Sita and the Monkey King, a wordlessly told story which expressed so many emotions, was the fire bit of the performance. It really made me laugh, a crazy guy kicking around some burning coconut shells then two sweepers tidying the embers up again only for the crazy guy to kick them about some more! Very funny. I was with a friend, Neil, who laughed too - it was a mad sort of clown show although I think it was supposed to be very impressive.

My night at the guest house actually wasn’t that bad and I did sleep, but I moved the following day, and just felt relieved when I checked into a much nicer place nearer to my meetings and in a very quiet spot albeit central.

Ubud is not a quiet place at all - it feels like a festival with people everywhere and the chaos of that many people in quite a small space. The monsoon rains contribute to the cooped up feeling and so I have decided to head to a coastal village where I am told the weather is better and there are less people - a double win.

Meanwhile, today is the anniversary of my Mum’s death, and so I am having an easy day of letting things unfold and taking them as I find them. So far, I’ve had breakfast with friends, a meeting, a two hour massage and caught up on this blog, as well as some planning for Des’ visit in just over a week. One of my new friends, Charlie, has given me great advice on where the snorkeling and diving is best and I’ve been doing research on it all. Very exciting. Komodo National Park on Flores is the spot apparently. Very exciting.

I am going to spend the rest of the day in easy mode, thinking about Mum, and definitely eating some chocolate at some point. A year on I still miss Mum daily and often think about how she would have loved hearing about this trip I’m on - she was the best vicarious traveler. Thinking too about my dear family in England, France and Kenya.