Bali.

I wonder what is it about this island that enchants people and forces them to return and stay? There is something magical about it, captured by its very name, contaned in its flavors, sounds and colors and preserved vividly in the traveller's memories. Bali is the island of the gods, where every stone, tree or river is possessed by a spirit. The entire island is the entrancing dance floor of the Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Christian and pegan gods, an unearthly orgy of the deities. No other place could make you feel so .... spiritualized.
Bali is one of those places that truly catches the essence of the phrase “a clash between the east and the west”. Where we, the Westerners, seek that special exotic thrill in the faces of the Balinese, in the sounds of the Gamelan music, in the taste of arak cocktails and peanut dishes. It is the story of trade page after page. The valuable richness of the East pursued by the hungry for passion West, only to become corrupt and marketable.
Bali for me was 15 days of bliss, a bliss that may have changed my life in ways that I am still unable to grasp. Bali has its own methods of allowing certain events to take place and all what happened there feels like destiny. As if from that first moment when I became aware of the existence of the island I was moving towards it and step by step, year by year, I was making those 15 days possible. “Being at the right place at the right time” has never felt so real. Let's just say that for a second there I saw the life I want to have and I know that every step I take from now on, consciously or not, on my own account or for somebody else's sake, will be moving in this direction. Not talking about houses and cars and husbands and professional plans, but about a peace of mind and a mental state of consciousness. Not about a final destination but about an ongoing journey. And let's leave it at that.