Is it possible to get written out? I’m thinking more so than ever. Trying to savour every witty, intelligent word that enters one of my many untitled, unsaved word documents for the larger, more expectant audiences of Global Hobo. I’ve run out of things to say.


Two weeks in, Bali has been no less of a cultural eye opener than I had anticipated, and I am so humbled by the in-excessive kind-hearted nature of the locals. Take Will for example, the 20 year old manager of our villa, who taught us how to vape at our house party and asked for nothing but smiles and a sip of Claire’s XL Bintang in return.


I’m alive, I am well and I am thriving. Bali Belly only wrote me off for a day, but now I’m back up and attem’ with only a slight gurgle to accompany each semi-spicy meal.


The villa I live in is more than I expected; cute and homely and I am getting surprisingly used to the unusual décor of eight hand-woven tote bags strung decoratively upon my walls. I have become friends with the geckos that make gentle love in my room. And my room-mate isn’t too bad either.


This is a generalised shit-post to let you (mum), know that I’m here and I’m loving it. There are so many beautiful things happening each day that I can’t wait to share; when I have a fresh view on it all and a slightly smaller workload.


All my love from the tropics,




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