captain mission reports from bali where the heat hit's you like a wet sheet, or a wet tea bag depending on your thermal regulation software, the night sky holds a few bright stars, i can make out jupiter up there, the air is thick with exotica, palm trees and strange plant life, huge monuments, krishna riding a chariot, arjuna before the war slaying the maya, i am where i am meant to be, here right now in bali with a very beautiful miss cupcake as we orientate ourselves. i'm in good hands, actually very good hands, my fears are put to rest, i feel very safe.
bali with it's demons and monsters, it's beautiful people with beautiful faces, the strange traffic ritual that looks like chaos but works better than anywhere in the western lands. police don't care about collecting revenue for their bankrupt state politicians, no here everyone is just as corrupt as everyone else, equality. in our dumb society just those who have influence are corrupt, you have to have a bit of anarchy in your traffic system, it's natural. maybe i just get asia, the chaos and the order. the yin and yang.
the driver is surprised at my knowledge of the hindu books, the characters and philosophy, he tells me about some hindu greetings as we arrive in a hotel that appears as a temple, it's majestic and grand but never ostentatious, i'm in awe of the architecture, mans influence in harmony with nature, never once do you see any structure dominate the flora and fauna, we wander through a labyrinth of pathways, and walkways, stepping stones to a chalet.
i go night swimming.
it's midnight and i swim backwards and forwards, looking at the stars above and the tropical garden either side. i swim until i am exhausted. but sleep is translucent, slipping in and out, my strange mind estranged, my thoughts scattered, i'm reminded of that church song, 'to be in your eyes.'
we eat an incredible breakfast, it really is the breakfast of champions, it sprawls across large tables, every single thing you can ever think of displayed as an art form, fresh and vital, breakfast of the gods, i eat a small amount, i'm aware that discipline is required in these situations but cupcake, wow, she is a mean eating machine now, eating her way through the balinese villages and towns, the locals are in awe of her, the fishermen tell their wives tales of her eating abilities and she is now legend in these parts, her name gone down in folklore and then suddenly as she starts to eat her seventh plate of scrambled eggs and hash browns i'm transported to a beach being massaged and manicured by three strange women who come across as nice friendly natives but then suddenly when they have finished pampering me they change to demanding old hags wanting extra cash and cleaning me out, jesus i think, they massage you into a super relaxed state and then hit you when you can't be fucked to argue, it's a smart strategy. i'm cleaned out, milked dry. but my feet look good and my hands have lovely nail polish on them.
the ocean feels warm, surf strong and possibly a bit to large for me, i like my waves small with power.
i return to the pool and swim up and down, see this beautiful woman at the bar in a bikini only to find it's miss cupcake, we have a non alcoholic fruit drink and swim up and down some more, then we lay down and read our books.
this is it, one week in heaven, it don't get any better in my book.