Terima Kasih, Bali

Dekat dan Jauh

Just thinking about Bali sends a shiver through my core. An unexplainable spiritual connection to a place that is not my home, but where I can feel so utterly at peace.

Before travelling to Bali, I had never considered myself to be a spiritual person.

I really can’t put my finger on what exactly it is about the Island of the Gods, because there is no one single thing.

It is the whole fusion of what this magical, tropical island has to show us – its wildness, waves and faith, its beautiful people and its endless, bounding natural beauty.

“Like every part of South East Asia, it has its rice fields, palm trees and tropical flowers, but somehow in Bali, these things fit together so perfectly that you feel when you arrive here,

that you have arrived in an enchanted garden.”

David Attenborough, ’The Miracle of Bali’, 1969

One evening, early in 2017, we sat on our sofa, thinking about our next trip. 

“Where shall we go?” I asked Rhino.

“How about Bali?

I know this is going to sound a bit strange, but there is something about Indo that just gets you, in here.

I think you’ll love it.

And there’s the surf.”

And just like that, the decision was pretty much made.

So in 2017, we set off with a seven year old Koko and a three year old Kitty for our big family adventure to Bali. Despite extensive pre-trip research, soaking up videos on YouTube and devouring travel books, I still could never have imagined what lay ahead of us, and how much it was going to open our eyes and shape our lives.

Rhino had been to Indonesia several times before, for surf trips to the Mentawais and Sumatra, but he hadn’t yet made it to Bali. So this was a new one for us all.

And my oh my, were we excited.

We flew from London Gatwick to Denpasar with Emirates on their iconic A380, and the flight out in Business Class was the perfect start to the trip. With our cases packed and a whole new adventure ahead of us, we boarded the upper deck and settled in for our pre-departure drinks. Eating ice-cream at the bar on the plane and Koko’s tooth coming out at 40,000 feet were all dreamy experiences. But as dreamy as Emirates Business Class was, it was nothing compared to the dream we were to experience on this special Indonesian island.

Getting off the plane at Denpasar, and finally making it through passport control after two hours of snaking crowds and queue cheaters, we spotted our driver, exchanged greetings and he led the way.

“You’re in Indo, Soph!” Rhino said excitedly with a beaming smile, as we manoeuvred the trolley, with Kitty riding on top of the luggage mountain and hauled the surfboards through the airport crowds to the car outside.

A warm wall of humid evening air hit us as we walked out into the dusk, and our eyes darted from the tropical plants that towered above us, to the Batik prints and charming Hindu statues, everywhere we looked.

It was a world away from the sights and smells of London that we’d left behind, and a true feast for all our senses.

And driving out of the bustling airport of Denpasar down towards the Bukit Peninsula, we were on sensory overload as the buzzing scooters scuttled past, with the singsong of their horns filling the dark evening sky.

Wide-eyed with excitement, we took in all the lights and all the bumps of the streets on the hour’s drive south.

“Shortcut” our driver told us every time he ran into traffic and took a sharp bend down a dark, dusty dirt track that always seemed to run through someone’s drive.

We pulled up outside the villa, handed over half a million Rupiah, unstrapped the boards from the roof and unloaded our bags.

And as we opened the gate, a real life secret garden was waiting for us.

A dense oasis of plants with oversized leaves and the brightest of flowers hugged the pool and the warm evening air was punctuated with the sound of crickets and scooters as we stood, jaws on the floor, and eyes wide open.

We gasped as we stepped into a tropical paradise and could hardly believe this would be our home for the next two weeks. A tingly feeling ran through me, which I can still remember vividly, and it all just felt a bit too good to be true.

The following morning we met the housekeeper.

“I’m Wayan” he said, shaking hands with each of us, Koko and Kitty too.

Wayan is the name given to the first born in many Balinese families. Wayan, like the other Wayans we would later meet, was so incredibly kind and gentle, a faithful Balinese Hindu, he would always be wearing a wide smile often with his white ceremonial clothes. With modesty, kindness and humility in bounds, he became a friend during those two weeks, and one who we would later return to visit on subsequent trips.

On the final day of that first trip to Bali in 2017, we sat in Kelly’s Warung, overlooking the beach at Bingin, listening to Kygo’s Firestone with Coconut shakes and Pittaya Bowls in hand.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

There were no smiley faces.

We all felt sort of empty, with what can only be described as broken hearts. I’m not talking the usual end-of-holiday blues, this was like we were being pulled down from heaven and were crashing back down to Earth in a broken rocket.

(We did end up having a fire on our plane home, so perhaps this feeling was a warning!).

We have been to Bali three times, and I am still itching for more. In January 2020, I was hours away from securing a deposit on the accommodation for our fourth trip, when we got itchy feet over Covid and decided to hold off.

And when it finally dawned on me that a trip to Bali was likely at least a few years off for us, the ache in my heart made me realise, that in some ways, it is home.

Rhino was right;

There’s something about Indo that just gets you, in here.

No matter how far away we go, we can always feel it.

Dekat dan Jauh.

*Dekat dan jauh = near and far

Bagus, Bagus, Bingin.

The charming village of Bingin has been our home from home on each of our Bali trips. A quiet surf settlement where driftwood labels signpost the way to the village’s many villas, warungs and homestays, an L-Mart, laundrette, a few cafes and the local outpost, The Cashew Tree. As well as the narrow scooter-filled roads that connect these places, there is a maze of almost secret paved lanes, running through the village and along the clifftop, shaded by tall cotton trees which drop their wispy white clouds in the wind.

The roads and alleys of Bingin are dotted with surfers and livestock, each wandering as freely as the other, as the wheels of the scooters roll past and swerve to dodge them both. The air is filled with the smell of flowers and rose incense and the din of the cows and the cockerels gently hums in the background.

The Summer season brings long stretches of endless sunshine and consistent high temperatures around 27 degrees. And even far away from the wet season, the rain will fall. And it is a spectacular sight when it does. When it comes to nature, nothing here is done on a small scale and Bali Rain, as it has become known to us, makes you want to go outside and dance around soaking up each heavy heavenly drop.

A striking magenta blanket of Bougainvillea hugs the village and tumbles over the cliffs where it kisses the beautiful blue hues of the roaring Indian Ocean.

And these waters really do roar like a deity, its power fierce and at times, frightening.

Rhino always tells me not to worry when he’s in the sea. Being married to a surfer, I know that a surf is as long as a piece of string, but that if he is longer than expected, he’s most likely either having a great surf, or just can’t catch a wave back in.

One day, he was gone for hours when surfing in Bingin. And as the sunset swiftly turned to darkness, like it does when you’re almost directly on the equator, I sat watching the girls play among the fireflies, still trying to make out his distant silhouette from the shore.

But I just couldn’t see him.

And I started to get this little knot of worry rise up inside.

This spot is not called ‘Impossibles’ for nothing.

I packed up the sarongs and took the girls up the dark steep steps of the cliff back to the villa. Perhaps he’d gone home ahead of us?

It was only a few minutes walk from the beach and he might not have seen us in the dark.

The evening was quiet, apart from the sound of the waves rolling behind us and we climbed up the cliff, passing the light of the warungs on the way and stopping to look inside each one, expecting him to be sitting there waiting for us.

Warung after warung, and still no sign of him at all.

Maybe he’d somehow gone ahead and was waiting at the villa?

And then suddenly, I heard shouting coming from the steps below.

“Oggy, oggy, oggy!”

Before I even turned around I could recognise his Welsh lilt, and there he was, grinning from ear to ear, with wide open arms.

“Daddy!” the girls laughed running down the steep steps towards him as my heart breathed a huge sigh of relief… “where have you been?!”

It turned out he couldn’t get a wave out and then got stuck trying to climb out over the reef in the dark. That evening, we headed to the Cashew Tree for a Bintang to celebrate that our Rhino, at least, was safe from endangered status.

As well as being powerful on the surface, the life within these waters is spectacularly rich.

“There’s a dugong,” two Australian travellers shouted to me as they scrambled down the steps from Rocky’s warung that hangs suspended in the cliff. Flippers in hand and pulling snorkels over their heads, they ran out to sea to spot him.

I’d never heard of a dugong before, and certainly had never seen one. I sat with Koko and Kitty in Rocky’s Place, cooling down with a watermelon juice, and looked out to the ocean in the hope that I may spot something from the shore.

Dugong is another name for a manatee and the Bingin dugong is famous here for brushing past the surfers in the line up. Large in stature and gentle in nature, Rhino has been lucky enough to spot this vulnerable species several times when surfing these waters. Each time, he comes out with a magic smile on his face, utterly in awe at the experience of sharing the waves with the fruits of the Indian Ocean.

Not all encounters with the local sea life were as magical, though. One morning, we were paddling around in the shallows of Bingin, with Koko on the board and Kitty swimming along at her side. Suddenly, Rhino jumped up as he spotted the vivid black and white markings of a venomous sea snake floating past the girls’ paddling limbs.

This time, it was not the striped ties of my swimming costume, and in one fell swoop, we all hastily fled from this beautiful, but unintentionally poisonous species.

Admiring the wildlife both on the coast and on the land is one of Koko and Kitty’s favourite ways to explore. Larry Lizard and Gary Gecko came out to play each evening on the cabana, whilst we played a few games of Uno and sipped on a Bintang. We watched them for hours as they scuttled around inside, protecting us from the mosquitos and spiders. Their unmistakeable croaking “Gec-ko” has become quite the family impression and these reptiles will always have a fond place in our hearts.

As will those mischievous Macaques, who swiped out to steal Kitty’s yellow hat from her head as we climbed the steps at Padang-Padang, leaving a vivid imprint on her young memory. We could watch these cheeky monkeys for hours, their babies clinging to them as they swipe food and of course, their well-coordinated tourist sunglasses heist.

The Balinese people are the happiest and kindest people we have ever known. Their gentle nature, a reflection of their deep-rooted faith, and their warm smiles a symptom of living a life wholly connected to the surrounding natural world.

Nestled into the cliff face of Bingin is a maze of pathways and steep steps which twist through the hanging village of warungs and homestays and lead you down to the most beautiful unspoilt stretch of beach, where the deep blue waters of the Indian Ocean stretch as far as the eye can see.

Looking back on this suspended village from out in the sea is where you can really marvel at its beauty. Simple and makeshift in many parts, boasting beautiful thatched roofs, and bamboo ladders, the sheer determination to construct these dwellings in the face of a cliff is a true testament to the resilience and creativity of the Balinese and a feat of engineering to be much admired.

We carried a three and a four year old Kitty up and down Bingin’s cliffs for most of the first two trips. Bribery goes a long way and once the girls had discovered the apple ice lollies in the L-Mart at the top of the cliff, those last few steps up to the top got a whole lot easier. The climb is laborious, but it is worth every sweaty step, and all the effort only goes to make the reward that much sweeter.

And yet, the locals of this area climb these cliffs with speed, strength and agility. Runners, of all ages, carry supplies up and down to keep the warungs well stocked, even on the hottest and most humid of days. Several times we watched them overtake us on our climb, laden with crates of drinks, and as we later sipped these drinks on the sand, our tastebuds tingled with gratitude.

My happiest and most peaceful memories of this island are in its most simple offerings. Sitting on the sandy shores of Bingin, with the sound of the powerful waves tumbling in, the girls happily playing and making friends in the smooth curves of the rockpools.

Back in 2017, in this spot, the simple magic of this island buried its little head into my soul, and nestled in for the long haul.

It is the simple things in life…

Bagus, Bagus!

*Bagus – good

Sama, Sama!

As peaceful and perfect as life can seem on this island, it is not without its challenges for the local people. And this was true even before Covid decimated the tourism industry, which accounts for 50-75% of the island’s economy. Tourism, that double edged sword, has brought millions of visitors to this island and therefore increasing prosperity for many Balinese over the last few decades. Most of the locals we chatted to, told us how it was always busy, how there was no real high season any more, and how the increase in footfall was mostly welcome.

We returned to Bingin for our second trip in 2018 and were overwhelmed with the number of tourists in this quiet spot on the Bukit. A few days in and it eventually twigged that many of these visitors had come here after being evacuated from Lombok and the Gillis after the magnitude 6.9 earthquake that caused utter devastation, tragically killing over 550 people and displacing 410,000.

The locals were busy, everywhere they talked about the busiest season and how it was good for business. And the impact of this increased footfall was clearly visible to us when we returned to Bingin in 2019, to a host of newly renovated warungs, homestays and shops. Replacing some of its makeshift charm, but still retaining that rustic simplicity that conserves the spirit of the village.

One day, we took a taxi over to Nusa Dua, primarily to see the blowhole but also to explore the other side of the Bukit Peninsula.

Nusa Dua is home to the Bali Collection, a modern outdoor shopping mall situated next to a sprawling row of five star resort hotels with private beaches. It was a world away from the west coast of the Peninsula where we were staying, felt awkwardly incongruous and yet was a lifeline for all those who worked there.

As we drove into the compound, we passed a family running a local roadside shop whose children were playing barefoot on the dusty road while their parents worked. It was really hard to comprehend the stark difference from the makeshift dwellings on that street, and the luxury that lay a few steps away, beyond the gated walls of Nusa Dua.

And it was a reminder, that despite the luxury of the high end resorts and the huge tourism-fulled economic boost, Bali is still, very much, a developing country.

“In Bali, seven days work, holiday one time..”

It was the end of the school day as we drove home and the children were spilling out onto the streets, with bamboo poles in hand, some in their scouts uniform for what must have been a special celebration day. Dressed in their uniforms, they waved and smiled at Koko and Kitty in the back of the car, as we got caught in the school rush hour.

The children were all riding scooters, navigating the traffic on the school run. A young boy on his scooter, about ten years old, was leading the procession of traffic through the streets.

“Isn’t he too young to be driving?”, we said.

“in the village, it’s ok. Mum and Dad they work, and he has to go to school.”

Another driver, Romos, told us that the local school couldn’t accommodate the number of children in the village and so ran two sessions each day – early and late. Schools were open for six days in the week, with one day off, a holiday.

Some of those working in the tourism industry in Bali, come from the nearby Indonesian Islands such as Lombok. In 2019, our housekeeper, Icha, had come to Bali, to earn money for her family on Lombok. This included her beautiful two year old daughter, who she would see for a weekend every few months, when the holidays allowed. I couldn’t imagine being in her situation and still Icha was proud of her work and always carried out her job with a gentle smile.

And it made me feel a little indulgent for any time I had ever moaned about the downsides of my job, which allows me to come home to my children each evening.

“Where you stay? You have beautiful girls. They want bracelet?” a Balinese lady asked, pulling out a huge rainbow-coloured collection of embroidered bands and showing them to the girls.

It was our first ever day in Bali, we’d not long set foot on the beach, were still sluggish from the jet-lag and not yet accustomed to the exchange rate.

“I do good price.” she continued and as Koko and Kitty got stuck in finding their favourite colours, I soon caved to her persistence and let them choose.

“Terima Kasih” I said handing over the notes and taking the delicately woven threads.

“Sama Sama” she said, smiling as she walked away.

I soon realised I’d foolishly paid at least ten times the going rate, and put my embarrassment down to inexperience. I’ll do better next time, I said to myself.

Over the course of three trips, I watched the same lady, and others like her, sit weaving bracelets on the beach, walking the white sandy shore under the beating sun, with a bundle of sarongs on her head, day after day, approaching tourists and making the occasional sale. I observed how most of the tourists, just like me, were fixated on getting the lowest price and congratulated themselves afterwards when they felt they’d done well when bartering.

I wondered how many bracelets she needed to sell each day to make enough to feed her family.

And I stopped berating myself for my foolish mistake. Instead realising that my little faux-pas had given this hard-working woman a little extra security that week. It was at that moment that I made a conscious decision to buy many more sarongs, hair wraps and bracelets over the coming trips.

I suppose what I realised, was that the true value of this small purchase was far greater than that of the product itself. Both for these ladies and for us.

Seven year old Koko said her dream job would be to sell bracelets on the beaches of Bingin, so she could spend her days on her favourite beach, eating lots of ice cream.

We can learn a lot from the raw, innocent wisdom of a child.

One day, at home, I asked the girls what game they were playing.

“Holidays.” Koko said. “ I am working on Bingin beach and Kitty is the Mum with her babies.”

“Will you buy my bracelet? It’ll be nice for your baby.” Koko said.

“Yes! Terima Kasih.”

“Sama, Sama”

*Sama, sama – you’re welcome

Satu, Dua, Tiga, Empat, Lima.

Nusa Dua is home to Puja Mandala, a multi-faith site with a house of worship for five different religions: a Hindu temple, a Buddhist mosque, an Islamic mosque, a Catholic and a Protestant church – and a shared parking area so that the visitors have the opportunity to greet each other and come together as they attend worship.

Our taxi driver told us this is the only such site worldwide and the Balinese were proud to be leading the way in religious tolerance. My Dad has practised Buddhism for as long as I can remember, and as rare as this was in my neighbourhood growing up, this influence on me was a huge gift. It instilled in me at a young age, the importance of always being respectful, empathetic and humble to others’ beliefs. It is a lesson I feel that is hard to teach, and best understood through experience.

I was so overwhelmed with admiration for this concept of a multi-faith site, and even more so that such a small population was leading the way and setting an example for the rest of the world.

It left me with a strong sense of hope that small change can make a big difference and a reminder that we must all keep trying to build bridges and break down barriers.

Indonesia is the fourth most populous nation in the world, with 275 million inhabitants. Whilst Indonesia is a predominantly Muslim country, 90% of Bali’s much smaller population practises its unique religion, Balinese Hinduism. Its non-dogmatic nature means that spirituality and life are so tightly intertwined that one cannot be separated from the other.

Often referred to as Shiva-Buddhism, Bali’s nickname, the Island of the Gods comes from the many deities that are worshipped, and the belief that God takes all manner of forms and is present in all natural surroundings.

And so, the Balinese have a deep and admirable affinity with nature, and it’s not hard to understand why, when such rich natural beauty greets you at every turn.

You really cannot miss the daily offerings of Frangipani flowers, rose incense, sweets or even cigarettes. These Canang Sari scatter the roads and footpaths, a daily feature of the landscape itself, and they really captured the girls’ imagination.

Koko and Kitty have replicated this tradition many times over in many countries, collecting flowers, pebbles, shells and all manner of trinkets on their adventures and arranging them in the garden, the park or on the beach, in the belief that good health, good luck and good fortune will come our way.

We travelled north in a quest to discover the natural beauty of the island, beyond the shores of the Bukit – the rice fields of Tegallalung, the waterfall in Tegenungan and the town of Ubud with our driver friend, Romos. The 60km journey there took us over three hours through Bali’s winding, bumpy, congested roads and the girls were less than impressed by the ride.

We arrived at Ubud in time for lunch and stopped at Ubud Food Court, where the girls were thrilled to sit on floor cushions and tuck in to their hot dogs whilst we tried the Nasi Campur. We soaked up the art and craft offerings that scattered the Ubud roadsides and decorated the stalls. From there, we continued north to the spectacular rice terraces, an other-worldly sight even in the dry season and an experience that gave us all a new appreciation for the grain that makes a staple for most meals on the island.

And with one final stop, we headed to the waterfall of Tegenungan, which to be honest, was mostly overrun with tourists and souvenir stalls, but had some memorable sights, aside from its waterfall…

As if all this wasn’t enough to make us feel like we were a million miles from home, the Kecak Dance in Uluwatu Temple took us back to a bygone era. Where ancient stories were told through dance and song and jewelled costumes glittered in the sunset like something from a faraway planet. The girls watched this celebration of Bali’s heritage and culture in awe from beginning to end, despite the burning heat of the setting sun pounding down on us for most of the show.

Cek-cek-cek-cek-cek …

Kitty was especially tickled by the cheeky character of the monkey.

Bali’s beauty stretches way beyond its beaches and perfect waves.

Its fascinating and rather unique culture, religion and traditions fuelled our quest for adventure and satisfied our desire to learn more about what lay beyond the boundaries within which we lived.

One night, we sat together on the cabana, and learnt some Bahasa Indonesian. It seemed effortless for the girls, as they chanted the numbers in unison and I had a little moment where I realised that this trip, this experience, had already changed the way they saw the world.

Satu, Dua, Tiga, Empat, Lima…

*Satu, Dua, Tiga, Empat, Lima – one, two, three, four, five

cek-cek-cek – the chanting sound of the ceremony (pronounced ‘check-check-check’…it’s a real ear worm!)

Kehebatan Dari Sebuah Bukit

The streets of the Bukit Peninsula were not built for the number of cars Bali now holds. Travelling by car takes at least twice as long as travelling by scooter, along the narrow roads and with the stop-start traffic.

Motorbikes and scooters are the primary form of transport, and not just for people. We saw animals, furniture and livestock all bundled high on the back of scooters. But I will never forget the image of a family of five, riding on one scooter as we rode along in a taxi that first year we visited. Not only were there five of them on two wheels, the mother was effortlessly breastfeeding her baby on the back of the bike as they whizzed past.

There is just no better feeling than zipping around on those two wheels, with the warmth of the sun on your face and the wind whistling past. It really is the ultimate sense of freedom.

And the girls loved it most.

Kitty’s job was to beep the horn at the chickens, dogs and cats who wandered onto the road, even though the first year, she was too small to even reach the seat and had to stand in the footwell. And Koko was in charge of turning the indicators on and off and holding the camera. When we ask them now what they most miss about Bali, the scooters will always be top of their Wishlist.

Looking north on a clear day from the coast of the Bukit Peninsula, you can see the peak of Mount Agung standing tall in the distance. Magestic and powerful, it is a reminder that life here on the ring of fire is always subject to the will of the Gods. There is insane power deep below the sea bed which can rear its head at any moment. And Agung, like an alpha god, towers above the land like a constant reminder, almost as if he is watching over the people below.

And so it is not really surprising that our first experience of an earthquake took place here on this island. We’d heard about the Lombok earthquake just before we set off on our trip in 2018. We knew there’d likely be aftershocks in the area and there would, of course, be a tsunami risk.

So we made an emergency evacuation plan, which we shared with Koko and Kitty, just in case the worst was to happen.

If there was a shake, we all get outside, wherever we are at that moment. And if this was on the beach and Rhino was surfing, I’d take the girls to the top of the cliff, leaving him behind. He’d make his own way up as there wouldn’t be time to wait if he was in the water. Elevation would be our best friend in the face of such powerful waters, and with bukit meaning hill in Indonesian, the only way was up.

And as much as we’d planned for and discussed it, I still never thought it would actually happen.

Until it did.

It was shortly after first light at 06:48 on August 23rd and we were still sleeping. The girls had woken in the night and so I was in with Kitty, and Koko was in the other bedroom with Rhino. Instantly, out of nowhere, a booming sound rose up from the depths of the Earth – a noise I’d never heard before.

Boom, Boom, Boom.

Every wall was shaking, every piece of delicately carved furniture was shuddering and every window pane was rattling ferociously in its ornate wooden frame. I woke, startled, and pulled Kitty from her sleep, running outside where Koko and Rhino were already waiting for us.

And just as suddenly as it began, it all came to an abrupt stop.

The girls, undeterred, swiftly changed out of their pyjamas and jumped in the pool for a morning swim, making the most of the early start.

It was pretty life changing, as experiences go. A reminder of how insignificant and tiny we each are on the grand scale of our planet.

The days that followed brought several smaller shakes, by which point we’d become accustomed to the rhythm and knew not to panic. We’d humbly learned how to respond to the God of Earth’s mighty roar and how to respect and marvel at its power.

One of the smaller shakes occurred one day while Icha was at the villa, sweeping the floor. I’ll always remember how she didn’t even glance up, just carried on sweeping the shaking floor as I looked to her for reassurance. And my eyes were opened to the fact that this way of life is normal everyday stuff for all those who call Bali their home.

Whilst the Deity of Earth is all about the power, the Deity of Water in these parts is more of a careful crafter, where precision and perfection are everything. In all my years of watching the surf, in many places around the world, I have never seen such consistent, perfectly formed waves. It’s a bit like they’re too good to be true, as if they’ve had some sort of filter applied when you look at them and my mind still can’t quite get over how such a vast moving body of water can form such perfectly precise peaks.

It was these peaks, that reignited Rhino’s love for surfing, after a spell of unrequited love. A series of injuries and consequent lack of surfing had, over time, taken the joy out of it for him. And with the anticipation of such a trip weighing on him, it took a few days to scope out the water before getting in. And my oh my, we were so happy he did. There is nothing like seeing a surfer unable to surf. And this place delivered on every level to refuel the passion that was somewhere within him, that had temporarily gone to sleep.

And with his very first surf in the Bukit, the buzz came tumbling back.

For us, the Bukit brought some kind of healing powers, both within and beyond the water. A home from home with magic suspended in the air.

For Rhino, it was the place that brought back a grommet-like passion for surfing, which has continued to this day and with it the fulfilment that comes from being back where you know you should be.

For me, it was a place that brought me a sense of clarity, giving me new eyes to see my world. I am quite a restless soul, always looking for something, and yet never quite knowing what that something is.

And here on the Bukit, I found a place where my restless energy was at peace.

Kehebatan Dari Sebuah Bukit.

* Kehebatan dari sebuah Bukit – How magnificent this Bukit

Bukit – hill,

Terima Kasih, Bali.

We take something from each trip, no matter where we go, and however small that lesson may be.

But from Bali, we took so many things.

One was the powerful art of Balinese massage. From the ladies on the beach, to those in the spa, they all have the generational gift of Balinese massage technique.

After his first deep tissue massage, Rhino met me in the Cashew Tree saying he felt like he’d been ‘hit by a truck‘, so he safely chose the ‘medium Balinese massage’ when Icha said she could arrange a massage at the villa.

“But it’s for ladies” her friend giggled as she began. Koko and Kitty stopped splashing in the pool, clearly fascinated at this work of art and started copying the technique. They were especially tickled by the way the masseuse worked her way down to each wrist and then slapped each hand. For such a small lady, she had immense strength and her technique was enchanting.

We always bring home a bottle of coconut massage oil from Nirmala supermarket and my absolute favourite gift from the girls is a handmade voucher for one of their Balinese massages – complete with a playlist of relaxing Balinese music and of course, a slap of the hand!

Food is always high on the list of things to explore when we travel and Bali was a learning curve in this area too. The cuisine being less rich than Malaysian or other Asian cuisine, our bodies soon adjusted to a simpler diet, full of locally grown fruit, vegetables, fish and Nasi Goreng… and the Bali belly that came with it! We now have a host of Balinese inspired recipes that we often make at home, and each time, with each bite, we are instantly transported back to the island.

Another is the gift of friendship. Wherever we go on a trip, we always bump into someone we, or usually Rhino knows. Almost every time. And on every trip to Bingin, we have met up with friends in The Cashew Tree. And it always makes me realise that no matter how big the world is, friends will always find a way to reach you.

In 2019, we met up with a family who live near us in Wales, but who we didn’t really know at the time. They are now some of our very best friends. Mostly because they’re just lovely people. But also because, with a shared passion for travel, they are kindred spirits. They have explored some of the world’s most amazing places and that summer they’d spent three months trekking through the Sumatran rainforest with their children, aged 3, 6 and 10.

I remember a moment when the six year old, bold and wise beyond his years, told the girls:

“the leeches weren’t actually that bad in the rainforest as you could just pull them off, but the mosquitos, they were the worst. And one evening we had to eat grubs for dinner because the fisherman in the village hadn’t caught any fish.. “

And I was reminded, through the words of a six year old, how travel is the greatest lesson of all – for little ones and big ones too. No matter how far I felt I’d travelled out of my comfort zone, there was still so much more to see, and so much more to learn. And it made me, made all of us, feel alive.

And instead of satisfying the longing for travel that had always been within me, this island made it multiply a million times over. Fuelling a deep curiosity and a restlessness to discover the world.

There’s something about Indo, that just gets you, in here.

Such is the wonder of visiting Indonesia. The island of Bali. A place that is simply spellbinding in every way.

Bali has a magic that runs through its veins, filling the air we breathe, captivating each traveller who has the fortune of passing through, catching us in its net and casting a beautiful spell on us, forever changing the way we see.

Bali, you stole our hearts.

And I’m not sure we’ll ever get them back. Or that we’ll even fight that hard trying.

Terima Kasih, Bali. Sampai jumpa lagi.

*Sampai jumpa lagi – til we meet again

Terima Kasih – thank you