I’m not quite sure when my love affair with Bali began. I suppose, as cliche as it may sound, that part of it goes back to the beautiful, vivid scenery depicted in Eat. Pray. Love. And again when the movie came out.
At first, one might think Bali is a weird fit for me. It’s zen, quiet (parts of it, at least), tranquil. I, however, tend not to be. Like many others, I suffer from a slight case of FOMO – Fear of Missing Out, and the thought that I may be willing to miss out on all the action may seem quite odd for me.
But then again, I’m also a huge introvert at heart. I love – no, need — my solidarity. I crave those reset days where not much is involved. I’m perfectly content exploring foreign cities on my own. I’m OK with being alone.
When I see photos of or read about Bali from other bloggers, the yoga-er in me from summers past begins to bubble to the surface and my inner introvert wants to break free.
I’m not sure all that I will do or see there. It may be a little; it may be a lot. I might find myself there at a particular time when I need it the most. When I need peace and serenity. When I need Bali.
* This is not to say that I completely unaware of the sad fact that Bali may not be all that I want it to be. I am aware. I have read the warnings from other like-minded travelers, and I know it may not be all that I crack it up to be. But, hey, a girl can dream.