I did have to fly back to Tokyo and the job, but I'm still dreaming about Bali.
My visit to Bali was decided rather quickly. I "had" to use up a week of vacation that expired in June (I know, woe is me). It being the slow time of year in the office, the timing was good.
My usual travel companion was busy. Hmmm, where can I go by myself but still meet people and have a good time? I'd started yoga again, had always wanted to surf, and my nomad of a coworker raved about Bali. Let's see how Google handles "Bali surf yoga retreat".
Go on, try it
After thinking it over a few days, I decided yes, I want to be a surf goddess. So I requested the time off, wired the money, bought the plane tickets, packed my bikini and sarong, and flew to paradise...
When you wake up to tropical birds serenading the sunrise, and someone makes you bacon and mango/coconut pancakes every morning with fresh-brewed Indonesian coffee, and drives you to the beach for surf lessons, and tells you where to find the best 10-dollar, 1.5-hour reflexology, and you come home to your private villa and freshly made bed every night, it's really easy to have a blast.
I had the best time surfing. I really, really loved it. It was like flying. The water was warm. The waves were crashing. The sun was hot. So were the surf instructors. And oh, what a workout.
Maybe I'm recovering from 16 years in Seattle, but the sunlight on my skin was like oxygen for my soul. And the sweet smiles of the Balinese, wherever I went. And the lithe kittehs strolling through the villa courtyard, staring at me with their squinty, kohl-rimmed eyes, as if to say, "Yes, yes, this will make excellent memories."
My week in paradise ended and I was back in Tokyo. I was bummed at first, but when I close my eyes, I am back on the beach. And there is surfing in Japan. And Bali is only 6.5 hours away.
