Well, kind of, Darwin anyway, but it sure feels like home to us. Big beautiful friendly flat accents all over the shop, Portuguese cab driver, American transit cop, Kiwis, black and white fellas of every shade.
It feels cosmopolitan and relaxed and we are breathing it in in big delicious gulps.
Here’s my lovely one catching up on the goss, at the Cav on Cavanaugh St.
Home at last.
Bali already seems like a dissociative dream, a beautiful fable someone had whispered, a series of lovely images seen through gauze. Had we really seen Jesus and Micky just yesterday ?
So it seems.
Had lovely Matriarchs steeped out of creeks cascading through luscious paddy fields and come towards us clutching coconuts ?
I guess they had.
Had girls with Gothic architecture tattooed onto the back of their legs strutted past us ? Evidently so.
Stay tuned for our next last Bali adventure tentatively entitled “Ask not for whom the cock crows.”