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To Bali I was having a tough time in London. I love London; The city- as beautiful as it is- is for the strong. Her steely, grey eyes and cold aura aren’t the most receptive to a mind frazzled and body lacking in Vitamin D. London will tell you to get it together. Quickly. Brave the crazy commute, get your dinner and be glad the rain didn’t come with the wind this time. London is love, tough love. I needed a new approach, just for a while. So, I took my passport in an attempt to Eat, Pray, Love my way to a good place. I skipped the eating and praying (kind of) and headed straight to Indonesia. Bali to be precise. Seventeen hours and one stop in Dubai later, a waft of heavy heat embraced me when I exited the airport. It reminded me of the same heat that encompasses you when you get off of the plane in Jamaica a similar heat I’d just experienced in Dubai. I hurried through customs and met my driver. My driver was kind and I was overwhelmed. I was seventeen hours away from home, alone and shocked. The blue bird taxi moved at a steady pace as tons of mopeds with whole families on them passed beside me on the way to my temporary home. The night sky did nothing to blot the energy I felt emit from every restaurant and Warung (small food huts). Locals mingled with tourists and expats to get a taste of the local cuisine. I arrived at my temporary home with the sound of insects outside to lull me to sleep. In the morning I ordered breakfast. I ordered life. I ordered Two words four syllables. Nasi. Goreng. If you haven’t had it before then you need to. The subtle flavours of a fried rice mixed in with carrot and chicken. one fried egg on top accompanied by a handful of Indonesian crackers and a small salad. Its colourful, its tasty, and I am not afraid to say I ate it every single day for a month. You too, will fill love entangle your tongue in a mesmerising way, a thought that never leaves you. Nasi Goreng. Thank you for the dance you did on my taste buds. I crave you bi-weekly. The weeks passing felt like hours, every moment walking amongst greenery and great people became the forefront of my days. Every day felt more like walking amongst family in a place like home. Eventually, after many nasi goreng fuelled comas and cocktails on the beach I realised that I hadn’t experienced much of the famed attractions. It was then that I decided, I was going to climb a Volcano. The Volcano- Mt Batur. The sun hadn’t risen yet when a van came for me. I was the first of five people to get in. The ride was quiet as we drove up toward the base of the volcano at 4am. The walk to the top was led by a smallish man and a dim glow from a flashlight. We walked and talked going up steadily, then, as I took my next step, I lost my balance and I started to tip off the side of the volcano. As fear rushed through me a hand gripped the back of my leggings and yanked me back up. I was met with a huge smile. We trekked for another hour and revelled in the sun. the descent was serene. So, To the Indian American Girl who saved my life savouring the sun at the peak of MT Batur with you and the others who sought beautiful things, was a time I’ll never forget. Thank you for saving me. After the day I lay in bed and felt peace. Fleeing a city, I loved for some sun and writing time led me to new friends, new experiences and an asthma inducing volcano trip I never thought to find a place I loved as much as home, and you are home because of love. So, To Bali, thank you for loving me as much as I love you. Love always. To all who visit I hope you love it too.