Indonesia Part I: Planes, Trains and Becaks

I never pictured myself visiting Indonesia for some reason. Maybe a factor in why everything has been so unpredictable thus far.  One month into my travels.  Sun-baked and pleasantly satisfied.  From Kuta and Seminyak, the party, beach-bum surfing towns, to Ubud, a heady, organic, superfluous spa induced town, to a one night retreat under the stars at a Lewak coffee plantation (world’s most expensive coffee) combined with a sunrise volcano hike to Mt. Batur, then onto Lovina, where the black sand beach and locals were nothing to write home about, Bali glistened with comfort and tourism compared to Java.  You got what you expected in Bali.  More

Bali: A Queen’s Suite

The sounds of dishes clanking and Harry’s powerful giggle woke me up at 6 am.  I peeked my head out the window and Harry’s Mom glanced over and shouted “Johanna. Mornin’. Breakfast?” I groggily made my way over to the sitting area. The Dhali Lama sat staring at me in a frame.  Limp, faded flowers surrounded him as he watched my every move.  Incense infused the air and got caught in my eyes. Pamphlets of yoga, reflexology, sound medicine and massage lay next to an assortment of essential oils. Harry was entertaining himself with an orange, bashing it against the wall in hopes it would bounce back to him.  A homemade hot pocket appeared on my plate. While I sipped my tea, staring into space, I brainstormed my rough plan for the day according to my senses. Harry’s Dad rustled around in the garden and approached me with heaping handfuls of  More

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