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  • When people think of Indonesia, they think of Bali. The surf is legendary and the south shore is completely over-run in the most pleasant way by Australian wave-riders. You can trust me when I say that they are fantastically charming. Wavy hair. Beer. Tan skin. The smell of coconut oil and curry mix in the most intoxicating way with a hint of salty sea waves. Booze and hair braids can be obtained for under 2 dollars while digging your feet in the sand. Old "Chile Peppers" music is over-played in the beach side bars. Hit it, Flea.

    I loved it. I am a frequent flyer to the fantasy of Sanur.

    But I've never lived there. I lived in the same set of islands at a completely different altitude.

    We wear winter coats with flip flops and shorts. The weather is always hot and cold. These island mountains are sympathetic to altitude. We might have lived on the equator (btw, I have totally performed a cartwheel between the southern and northern hemispheres!), but cold mountain mists would roll and mix with drifts from the heated valley at night. It produced a soggy depth.

    And there we would stand around the fire like awkward and stranded flamingos. Skinny bare legs. Hats and puffy winter coats. Flip Flops.
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