A rooster wakes me in the morning. I hear it proudly trumpeting in the not too far distance. I would be pissed off with it, but it's hard to be angry when you're waking up in a new country full of excitement and hope.
Later I sit by the pool, chosing to rest my weary bones and actually pace myself for once, and close my eyes. I let my ears be carressed by the sound of wind rustling through the thick trees and tropical brush. Birds call out, their song melodic and clear, a beautiful sound so very different from the birds at home. And there's more of them. They sing with each other. A frog croaks out what sounds like a throaty catcall. I imagine he's flirting with the birds.
And thunder, deep and powerful rumbles through the sky. Loud claps ricochet a counterpart to the intense bass and the hairs rise on my arms. A smile plays about my lips. I love thunder. No rain, yet. Just a cascading sky of grey clouds and breaks of hot sunshine.
I open my eyes and look at the small flower held between my fingertips which fell from the tips of the balinese trees. It feels like a gift from Bali. A little welcome blessing for me.
I am happy here.
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