ABSTRACT
Bali, the experience. My husband and I arrived in Bali late in the evening and got through customs. Our driver from the Villas Hotel and Spa was waiting for us with the warmest, most beautiful smile we’d ever seen. As we drove through the dark to the town of Seminyak, a riot of sensory impressions flashed past. The driver swung a hard left off the main road down an unpaved alley, and we were suddenly there, at the entrance to the Villas. Thatched-roof palapas, a fountain, lovely cushions on a teak bench, and more smiles greeted us as we stepped into the balmy night air. We were checked in promptly and welcomed, and a staff member explained the accommodations. A key on a hand-carved ring opened the gate at no. 21, our home for the next week. While we were being shown the amenities, we drank in the sculptures, the pool, the garden, and the shaded kitchen. The staff member showed us how to work the air conditioner in the bedroom and pointed out the menu for breakfast and room service and the basket for laundry. Everywhere we looked were small arrangements of cut flowers—in a circle around the soap dish, on the dining table, on the pillows. (You see these meticulous flower arrangements anywhere you go in Bali; I even saw one decorating a toilet-paper holder in a restaurant bathroom.)
