We arrived at noon, piled our luggage into a waiting van, piled ourselves into two SUVs, and proceeded to lunch at Chandi.
This marked the start of four days of feasting on fabulous food and drink that could seriously rival Anthony Bourdain's food travelogues. Métis... Ku De Ta... Mama san... Sardine...
But ultimately and most especially, at Villa Champuhan. Breakfasts on the river bale, dinners in Dolly's dining room. Elegantly and deliciously served by Comang, Gungun, and Kadet.
There were massages, scrubs, milk baths, hair spas. Outdoor and indoor. In house and out.
There were birthday sparklers...
...and martinis and mojitos by the sea.
There was mahjong.
There were endless photo shoots.
And then there was the shopping. A virtual orgy of acquisition. Clothes, trinkets, home decor, bracelets, beads, necklaces, tassels. Bags, snake and non-snake, but mostly snake. At boutique shops and market stalls.
Our final evening in Bali was reserved for chilling at the villa. The full moon was the Mini-Moon of 2015 when the moon was at the farthest point from earth. And as it was pool night, us girls were as far away as we could get from clients, meetings, groceries, deadlines, and all things profitable, useful, and boring.
Time to leave. On the drive to the airport, we stopped briefly as grotesque monster heads blocking our way obligingly moved to the roadside. These are the ogoh-ogoh for the Nyepi festival. It's at least two weeks before the new moon appears but the town folk are already getting ready. Nyepi is the Hindu new year, the island's most lavish annual celebration. It coincides with the new moon of March or April. This year it occurs on March 21.
Putu, our driver and default local guide, ably aided by translator Nellie, explained that it has all to do with the Hindu belief that the world is ruled by the opposing forces of good and evil. Good magic and bad magic, good spirit and bad, black and white. The third day of the six-day religious festival is reserved for prayer, fasting, meditation, introspection, and rebirth. Under the watchful eyes of the pecalang who patrol the streets in day and night shifts, all in Bali abide by a set of local rules centered on the doctrine of The Four Prohibitions: no fire, no travel, no activity, no entertainment. And in party-central Bali, a day of profound silence and absolute abstinence, meaning no lights, no music, and no road traffic has to be ushered in and out by every manner of noise-making. Gongs, bells, firecrackers, whistles, bashing of pots and pans, and parades of vanquished evil spirits. Hence, the monster heads.
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On the flight back to Singapore, more pictures.
And from Stuart's office window, a shot of our flight arriving at Changi.