A love letter to Bali

I arrived to Bali without expectations. I was met by an island bursting with life: a cornucopia of lush shades of greens, rituals, insects, fruits, waterfalls, rice fields, landscapes, cheeky monkeys, technicolour sunsets and kindness.

The sun in the sky is embodied by the warmth of its people, who are always ready to smile, connect and generously open windows into their lives (often via taking out their phones to show me photos of their hometown, family members, and their graduation outfit).

The heat also comes through in their sambal and chopped chillies served with the countless nasi campur that filled my belly, which made my Mexican soul oh so happy, as did the life-changing coconut desserts (dadar gulung I’m looking at you), delicious tempeh (in all of its presentations, and there are plenty) and juicy tropical fruits that reminded me of my childhood in Yucatán.

Flowers are weaved into every part of life: fragrant frangipanis sprinkle every sidewalk, bright marigolds adorn steps/tables/beds, vivid red flowers are tucked into stone statues of gods, shy blooms adorn the head of those that have already said their prayers, and four different coloured flowers (representing the four directions) are cozied up together into offerings and placed in front of restaurants, homes, shops, hotels, etc.

An incense seems to always be burning in the vicinity, as a reminder of the balinese reverence for the sacred, which for them is everywhere. Their daily offerings mark their remembrance of our intricate connection to the divine, to nature and to one another. Bali, in return, blooms fully in the light of this deep adoration and recognition.

It is easy to see why those that come for a short time, often as a refuge in times of transition or lack of direction, end up staying for months or even permanently.

Matur suksma Bali, for rooting me back down into the heart with your beauty, sweetness and warm embrace.