Soul-searching, sluts, expats and locals: My Life in Bali Thus Far

Life in Bali…palm trees, rice paddy fields, the smiling and kind Balinese, blah, blah, blah.

 rice fields

Some rice paddy fields outside of Ubud (courtesy of Google Images)

It’s true…

This is paradise if you choose to put blindfolds over your eyes. Please don’t get me wrong. I saved my money in Spain and came here to live cheaply and I guess do a bit of soul searching. Try to figure out why my familial relationship has been reduced to receiving a series of YouTube videos without the joy of face to face chatting when others have grown closer to their families. Perhaps I even wanted to fall in love under the full moon or while eating a romantic dinner with a significant other (a-hem: whom I’ve known for less than two weeks), then be convinced to travel abroad together for the rest of our lives.

So far…um…I’ve achieved a little bit of peace. Most days, I’m driving around on my scooter, trying out new foods, improving my swimming and writing. In my 30s, I’ve grown a bit tired of the repetitive club scene which seems to be a regurgitation of the same damn theme in every vacation spot around the world.

scooter pic

Bad ass me on my scooter in Mt. Batur National Park

How many times can one listen to Bob Marley’s, “Redemption Song” on the beach, with dirty hippies watching the sunset? I didn’t come here to drink my life away. I also didn’t come here to spend time with pseudo- spiritualists, one week vegan types who try to make me feel bad because I want a beef burger and find yoga boring. I’ve grown more cynical in the past few years. I can’t count how many times I’ve been asked the same damn questions.

“Where are you from? Are you working here? Do you have a boyfriend?”

tearing hair out


I don’t feel like answering these questions anymore. I’ve become so jaded that I find very few people interest me nowadays. Most are sad imitations of some caricature off t.v. If you’re my friend and not an acquaintance, rest assured, you’re an original. hahahahahaha

Can anyone else relate to me?

Now on to the point of meeting locals. I was lucky enough to run into Ani. A nice woman from Bali, in her thirties, who just got married. She’s been my rock and translator which I didn’t expect. As soon as I told her that I planned to employ a sponsor, she sent me the required documents before my Singapore trip without mention of wanting anything in return. Her step-mom has been very sweet to me. Even nudging me on the side, like she does to her grandchildren, to pull the gray hairs out of her head. lol

However something does prey on my mind. This is something most expats in third world countries can relate to…

Will she eventually turn into all the locals I’ve met thus far and ask for money? Will I get the sob story of her life to coerce me pay the private school fee for her child?

I gave her a gift of 1 million rupiah (about $75) when she got married and bought a blender for her warung so she could make drinks for guests. I’m not in favor of living in a country and refusing to get to know the people. I have found in all (yes, I said all) third world countries, I wonder if the person is being nice to me for material gain.

Our relationship is good so far. We help each other out more emotionally than materially. I did told her that if she’s having further problems with her husband, she’s welcome to stay with me. No questions asked. When it comes to domestic abuse, the laws are on the side of men here.

Please share your experiences when it comes to forming real friendships with locals.



Sluts rule (courtesy of Google Images)!

I love sluts in certain contexts. If it wasn’t for them, I would’ve spent many a night in my apartment in Chicago because I basically had no money to go out.

My money was saved for travel.

They’d call me up and get us on guest list because they blew the dj. They always have a hookup at the bar. They received money from stupid men and happily shared it with me.

I met a couple of nice sluts from Java. They’re in their early twenties and spend most days on the beach or out clubbing. When the itch hits me, and I feel ike dancing, I’ll go out with them. They get their “one week” Western boyfriends to buy me food and drinks. Then they go to their hotel and I happily go home in a taxi.

Judge me if you will. Hahahaha You KNOW I’m right! How many slutty friends do you have?

Next post: I have no idea. Give me ideas! Do you enjoy my rants or would you prefer more in-depth, applicable information about living abroad?


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