Mexico Musings

So I came here to Bali to escape the frenzy of my plugged-in, revved-up Manahattan life.

My idea was to spend mornings trolling for gorgeous Balinese batiks and sumptious hand-dyed fabrics. Afternoons would be spent in a hammock, genlty rocked by tropical breezes, comforted by gentle sounds, the swish of palms and the sigh of small waves dying on the shore. And evenings, would be split between starlit walks at the water’s edge, or lazy strolls through town, a meal, and a languid walk back to my beachside cottage.

Eash day would have some time for meditiation in the rainforest, near a crystal spring.

It was the red batik that did me in. Soft and supple, a smoldering, hot,sexy, red. A piece long enough to wrap my body twice and knot at my bust. It skimmed my hips, just touching here, swinging loosely there, with tiny shells knotted into the fringe, they tinkled as I walked. “I’ll wear this to town tonight, and have a meal, and sit and watch as the locals gather to sing and socialize.” I snipped a red hibiscus and pinned it behind my ear.

As I approached town, I could hear drums and loud voices. As I got closer I saw disco lights and heard music from the 70’s, could it realy be “Dancing Queen” here in Bali? It was! and all kinds of people had come out to disco dance under the stars. I joined in,I danced with and without partners and drank just a little too much…
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