The return to Ubud is the final phase. It's dominated by shopping, eating muesli and sati (not together), cocktails and hangovers (after after other). I also appear to have become an expert critic on the Kecak dance. But, without counting, I reckon I'll have seen it around five or six times by the time I depart.
Post Day is a highpoint (twice by the looks of things). Particularly pleased to be hearing from H and U (the latter appears to be in a very bad place at home). And what can only be described as a 'telling off' from G on the subject of my not being interested or responsive enough to his previous missives.
Kampung Sari is the name of the place that we stayed, I think, on both occasions. No doubt a high end resort 25 years later!
And then E is gone. Just as J was, months before. I'm a little homesick as a result but reflecting upon the fact that I'll also be home soon but am also very lucky to be spending more time in Bali. In this final furlong I observe temple preparations, reflect upon the inherent selfishness of solo travel, eat doubly at lunchtime to avoid eating along in the evening, have sleeps disturbed by frog choruses, read Kerouac and Carrie Fisher, reflect upon the pretentiousness of some/many aspects of my play, and. I. Go. Home.
