🛬🌴Bali
I landed in Denpasar just before dusk, the air warm and heavy with clove smoke and ocean salt 🌊 I skipped the taxis and hopped on a local shuttle to Canggu (€3), squeezed between surfboard 🏄 and backpacks. My homestay was tucked behind a rice field, down a bumpy lane lit by motorbike headlights. Nights 🌙 were quiet except for the occasional roosters and the distant thump of bass from beach bars. I’d fall asleep with the fan humming and the smell of fried noodles drifting in from somewhere nearby.
🌊🍍 Days unfolded slowly. I’d rent a scooter 🛴 for €4 a day and coast down to Batu Bolong Beach with a towel over my shoulder and no plan 🛵🏖️. Breakfast was smoothie bowls from a shack with beanbags on the sand €3, bright purple and topped with coconut and dragonfruit 🥥🍓. Lunch? Nasi goreng from a warung run by a grandmother who called everyone “sayang” €1.50, spicy, perfect 💯 Afternoons were for naps, street wandering, or a yoga class at The Practice for €7 , open air, incense burning, wind in the trees as the teacher whispered through poses 🧘🌿. You didn’t need much. Just water, sunscreen, and time 🥥
🔥🎇 Evenings were soft and glowing. One night I walked the cliffs at Uluwatu, ate corn grilled with butter and sambal €1, and watched the sky turn blood-orange behind silhouettes of surfers 🏄♂️🌅. Another time, I followed a local tip and ended up at a full moon ceremony, white clothes, lotus offerings, the scent of sandalwood, and the echo of chanting across the water 🕯️🛐. Dinner might be tempeh satay and jasmine rice from a night market €2.50, eaten on a bench under fairy lights while scooters zipped by. It was all small things, but Bali made them feel big. Sacred, even. Like you didn’t need more than a few euros and a little patience to feel like you belonged there.
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