Poop Coffee

This is me drinking poop coffee, or more politely, coffee made from beans that have passed through the digestive tract of the Asian palm civet (Paradoxurus hermaphroditus). In Indonesian, Kopi luwak, it is also called civet coffee. Poop coffee. Yes I am drinking it and smiling, but that is the least remarkable thing about this picture.

I had never been to Bali, which is practically un- Australian. It was on my radar as a beautiful place that I had no intention of visiting because it was apparently full of drunk Australians behaving badly. No thanks.

Then my life took a particularly tricky turn. And for a couple of years it was not fun at all. The last piece of finishing that time was packing up and selling what had been the family home for 20 years, and then moving back to the city in 2016. Not fun. Downsizing was essential because I had no idea of what size place I was going to be able to find and afford, I gave a ton away, and I sold a lot of stuff on Gumtree.

I looked at the Gumtree money and thought, wow I could have a holiday with that.

I looked at the now empty house, and the boxes waiting to be unpacked in my new place and it was a no brainer. Bali was cheap, near by, I figured it was full of middle aged ladies who had read Eat Pray Love (it was) so probably safe to travel alone. It was also somewhere I had never been, and a place where I didn't know anyone. And my cunning plan was that if I went a few weeks after moving and mostly unpacking, coming home to the new home would be good.

I chose a place that had positive reviews, it was all done on line, too easy. I was perfectly happy taking myself, not a new thing for me and Bali was practically next door, like visiting neighbours; not my usual trek half way around the world and then up a mountain somewhere.

The travel gods were generous, the Villa Sonia is the nicest place you could ever stay, really. I felt, coming out of a personal wilderness and a cold Woodend /Melbourne winter, that I had landed in paradise.

I ate my breakfast here, and wondered how I was going to go home.

I relaxed and meditated here every day on my private deck, and started to think about moving here.

I now believe that Bali is magical and has healing properties that none of us really understand. After a week here I felt transformed. I didn't do a lot. I sat next to that gorgeous pool and drank from a coconut. I would swim when I got too hot and then drink another coconut. I didn't read any of the books I brought with me, instead I did a deep dive into the romances left behind by other travellers.

I went into Ubud once or twice but I was not in need of lots of shopping. The small charmingly named Village of the Yellow Coconuts, where the Villa Sonia is, has lots of restaurants and shops within walking distance. You can wander down and look through the fence at the Monkey Forrest. One side of the fence has monkeys in their own little kingdom, the other side has shop keepers with sling shots and sticks to keep the little scoundrels away.

I did a couple of day tours, (including the Monkey place, not really happy with this, but he was too big to argue with!) The tours always stop at a coffee place, and you get to taste the local coffee, not all of it is poop coffee!

It's beautiful, busy, the people are kind, kind, kind. The food is amazing.

The temples are everywhere, and incredible.

Bali gave me time off the clock. I slowed down, and I got to choose everyday what was going to make me feel happy. I laughed for the first time in a very long time. I remembered myself. I watched the Batik artists and didn't care that this stop on the tour was to get me to spend money. I watched a skilled artisan create something beautiful, something that had been done for so many generations. Then I spent money in the shop :) I came home with lots of amazing fabric, quite unexpected. Across from the hotel was a womens collective with incredible hand spun and hand dyed fabric, Aladdins cave!

I ate at a different restaurant every night, all full of single middle aged women out for dinner with their ipads, and who cares. I had a few massages. I walked and loved the fact that frangipani blossoms fell at my feet. I slept like a princess in my king sized island of a bed decorated with a swan made of towels every day. I had gasped like a country girl when shown to my room, "is this all for me?" Cool blown immediately Karen!

My more recent travels until this trip had been mostly India and Tibet, harder travel in many ways. Bali let me be a lotus eater, it gave me the choice to be a tourist or a pool dweller. It gave me choices every day that were about my happiness, and I will always be grateful.

The people of Bali and all Indonesia are suffering terribly with the COVID crisis, I pray every day that they find relief and healing swiftly. That they find the healing and happiness they dispensed to me so freely.

Life has gotten tricky again this year, not just COVID, although that is tricky enough. I am dreaming of Bali now, the ease, the warmth, the freedom. It will be there when we can travel again. I want to go and help the Balinese rebuild after this terrible time, the clear truth that our tourism money will help. And I know, that I am waiting there too. It is one of those most precious places in the world, there are a handful, where I can reconnect with me. What a gift.