The Bali [ by Shan]

We've been here awhile now, though it's hard to say if it feels like a long time or short because time is rubbery here. It's an easy place to be in the moment and forget what day it is. It's a fun place to play. There are so many places to swim, so much art to look at and all these beautiful flowers scenting the air. Our house is full of geckos, big beaded ones who come out at night, hang around on the high thatched ceiling and eat the bugs. We've seen tree frogs on the beams and giant toads on the walkways. I've shoed away a few scorpions who I don't like so much. Our house is open, bungalow style, so the world comes in.

Bali is Asian in the sense that privacy is minimal and personal space doesn't exist. People are quickly forthcoming to make conversation, and questions like Where are you going? Where are you from? Where are you staying? from strangers would seem too personal in New York, but are just small talk here. They are also very honest: You are beautiful. You are fat, etc.

On the surface, everyone seems enraptured in spiritual grace as they carry offerings around, always with easy, beautiful smiles. Underneath, they are pressured by family and community obligations and bound by a strict caste system. The women do hard manual labor in the rice fields and even construction and road work. They have few rights and legal protections compared to men. I found out about this more from reading modern Balinese fiction than from anyone here directly. And lucky for us, the Balinese people we've met here have been generous in including us in ceremonies and feasts. I really enjoy their company, their lively sense of humor, their way of honoring everything in creation with gifts and thanks, and their casual way of making everything beautiful.

Will I ever be able to return to the land where lunch costs more than 20 cents? Hard to say.