We were in Paris yesterday morning, with only 6 to welcome us down the TGV, boo ... So glad to get home last night with 13 ° in the late evening ... Marseille is bliss! However ... I would willingly offer you this morning a short stop on the side of Bali, but this time as a contemplative fiction, cradled between excessive time zones and watching a couple of relearning everyday ... Let me take you back to my July 5 to me ...
(Kuta Beach, south of Bali, a paradise for surfers)
I have not told all of our adventures in the Pacific that I have already talk about Bali ... After a "call" a little over 48 hours in Marseille where we barely had time to change our travel bags, we have added six hours time difference to our eleven o'clock with Tonga to find ourselves under the sky of Indonesia on the island the most tourist archipelago Bali, the island of the gods. In six days we've been around the world by plane, heading east.
Not much to tell at the moment except that we are literally exhausted by the tension of three weeks of filming in the Pacific, as always, falls on our shoulders, leaving us a bit dazed, almost apathetic . So add seventeen hours time difference in total and you will understand why we wake up with a ferocious hunger to 2:00 in the morning and why a leaden sclerosis our energy tea time ...
As I write these few lines, lulled by the lapping of the weir pool at this hotel in Seminyak, man is still sleeping deeply ... It is 11:00 in the morning, he was already 28 degrees and the sun plays with the frangipani leaves that fills the atmosphere around our small Balinese pavilion roof tiles and carved wooden door.
Tourists arrive a little more each day and our taxi driver told me yesterday that the wealthy happy Java, the most populated island of Indonesia, Bali arrived en masse during the school holidays that range from mid -June to mid-July. This would also explain the excess traffic in the narrow streets and often one-way. We were already here last October and there were fewer tourists in the streets and beach of Kuta, I had already seen heavy traffic throughout Indonesia, including buried under the incessant flow of motorbikes.
In ten days will be held in Sanur, further north, the Festival International Kite, a "sport" here reveals national real masterpieces floating in the air at the whim of winds mellitus. A very popular festival, the Balinese.
This is obviously a day under the seal of indifference, laziness or even fully accepted. Bali lends itself so well ... Maybe I'll go sip a mango juice in a few minutes in the pool served by a young man concerned about our comfort that will add a few slices of fresh pineapple on a plate decorated with delicate flowers hibiscus. At least I will not let me manipulate the expert hands of the masseuse who offers pampering our bodies shredded scalp to the soles of feet.
Then we will be hesitant between roast suckling pig and grilled dolphin fish just before our eyes, letting our eyes on the run seeking LA wave surfers, savoring the scent of peanut satay sauce our.
We are on vacation this time and after this busy year, not unhappy to be away from our computers, yet confused by being abroad, but this time outside a professional context. Even if ...
Even if I look around, in conditioned reflex, to tell it. Even if Man has already spotted one or two beautiful frames for pictures to come. Even if I know that I will ask soon under water, because without diving photo here would be heresy!
From the terrace, nestled comfortably on the cushions of the couch made of bamboo and woven fiber, I see a father who holds in her arms a child of three years. He reassured the French, telling him not to fear the water, do not fear expulsion from his mother who stands, smiling and relaxed on the couch facing the pool-blue-copy pasted on the sky. Sunglasses at Paris Hilton, Victoria Beckham bikini as she stroked a finger over the stack of gourmet French magazines purchased at the airport and kept religiously until this blessed moment when she can finally indulge in the joys of doing nothing while Monsieur take over with Junior in the pool.
Pale, pink shoulders just the first exhibition in the morning, a little awkward with the son he did not have time to watch them grow between two return flights to New York, Tokyo or Frankfurt, Mr reclaim its role father for a few days in the micro family unit for which wade all year. He might have preferred the Luberon, in a boutique hotel, or to avoid an additional trip and jet lag who abuses his body too rowdy, but the trip is a must Tropical, a gift to a patient's wife that He still cherishes but which requires a reward for one year of patience and frustration, "he, he travels throughout the year!" ...
So this morning Mr plays to take advantage of her little boy, in good faith, with all the love he feels for the little chubby to be rediscovering the joy of hanging himself in his father's neck. And Madam is watching from the corner of the eye with delight while plunging into the torments of love Flavie Flament turpitude or Britney Spears. This afternoon they take a baby-sitter. She took advantage of the spa and Guerlain products. It will slip by quietly at the Business Center at the hotel for a few phone calls and check emails. To organize its next meeting. Jakarta. In three days.
Chuut ... She does not know yet ...
