My wallet has never been this empty, but I leave Bali feeling like a very rich human being.
I’m spending my last night in Ubud at home, alone, after two months flying by *ZOOP time machines do exist, go to bali* with ongoing new connections and spending time with so many freaking head-to-toe BEAUTIFUL inside-out crazy lovely people.
While listening to the insects and raindrops, eating the yellow juicy jackfruit from Wayan’s juice bar (just like i did for almost every day the last sixty days) i can’t stop myself from reminiscing.
I’m curiously looking forward to tomorrow, when i’ll fly off to Melbourne and get to cuddle my long lost sister and squeeze her till she can’t breathe no more. I’m up for new adventures, exploring some more.
On the other side i have this weird feeling in my stomach leaving Bali, this beautiful home, in a roof-above-my-head-in-the-ricefields-and-sweating-in-my-bed-at-night and a feeling-kind-of-home.
Because of the sun kissing the palmtrees, the honest smiles and purity in the eyes of local people, the old balinese man saying ‘pagi’ every morning when he sits on his chair of stones, all the peaceful ceremonies, the greenest nature i’ve ever seen, the weird sounds of gecko’s, the hectic streets and crisscrossing scooters & traffic jams.
The stories brought to life before my eyes, every single day.
Because of all the people i’ve met. Old friends, new friends. Bali felt like home because of you and it wouldn’t have been the same without you.
The singing on scooters, sweaty dances, talking for hours during rain storms, staying up too late and drinking unpronounceable cocktails, the pep talks, the strolls through nature, the mental breakdowns, live music and screaming along, the jokes shared over fingerlicking good food and coffee and heaps of coconuts, doing things i was quite scared of, the sunsets, endless talks about life, on stairs/scooters/sidewalks, the sleepovers, crazy honest observations, bumping into each other all the time and all the really tight hugs.
I can honestly say I’d be ok if I’d suddenly got hit by a coconut or drop dead.
Don’t get me wrong, universe, i’d love to live long and prosper and turn into a wrinkly granny, finish my thesis, graduate, write a book, bear children, grow my own fruit and kiss the hell out of the people i love in holland (not necessarily in this order). But, if i do, drop dead.. i’m happy.
For being here even though i had no clue why i wanted to go here. I don’t know if i’m talking about bali, or earth, yet.
I’ve done stupid things, learned a lot, enjoyed a lot, loved a lot, felt alive.
For me that’s what life’s about.
So thank you.
For joining the ride. In Bali, in digital spirit or in my life in general.