Back When Flights Were Cheap and Friendships Were Everything
The Spontaneous Return
I haven’t written a blog in a while. Actually, I can’t believe it’s been about a year. Since I’ve just returned from Bali, now seems as good a time as any to dust off the keyboard.
The decision to go back to Bali wasn’t exactly... logical. Emotion ruled. Reality didn’t stand a chance. I was (and still am) teaching at various yoga studios, and honestly, wasn’t making enough to justify an international trip.
But then…
One night I was at my friend Dev’s house. We’d already been to Bali together—twice. And luckily, we now lived just five minutes apart. As we caught up, our conversation landed on our friend Dom, who was off solo-adventuring through Southeast Asia, having the time of her life.
Naturally, the “What if we just... went?” talk started.
So we did what any sane, responsible adults would do: opened Just Fly.
Before even searching, we said our ideal ticket price out loud. Seconds later, the first flight that popped up was smack dab in the middle of that number. The Bali gods heard us.
We whipped up a quick three-week budget in my Notes app and booked the tickets two days later.
Yep.
We know. We’re still kind of crazy.
But crazy in love—with this island that’s somehow become our spiritual twin flame over the past two years.
Forty-five days later, we were en route to Bali.
With a small detour.
Layover Magic: Xiamen Island, China
I’ll be honest—I had no idea Xiamen was an island. Like, none. Learned that fun fact the moment we landed.
Dev had been there once before during a past Bali trip, so she messaged her old Airbnb host to stay with him again.
Enter: Mark.
The tallest Asian man I’ve ever met, Mark was waiting outside the airport in front of a McDonald's wearing a neon turquoise shirt, black sweatpants, and yellow slippers that looked suspiciously like Crocs.
He helped us load our packs into his trunk, and we slid into the backseat of his brand new Mercedes. Total upgrade from the airport Ubers I’m used to.
We arrived at his place, just seven minutes from the airport. Mark had us toss our bags through the kitchen window (yes, you read that right), then led us through a lush little garden to the front door.
His home had amazing energy. Picture this: five or six rooms, an open-plan common area with 70s-style sunken floors, a black glass coffee table, and floor-to-ceiling windows. Off to the left was the kitchen. To the right, a staircase. We went up.
Our room was just off the landing—Queen-sized bed, air-con, and the dreamiest little nook with a tea table and cushions tucked behind a sheer white curtain.
We both passed out after showers but woke early to share morning tea in that nook, the whole space lit by soft natural light. It was heaven.
Botanical Gardens, Glamour Queens & Squat Toilets
Mark took us to the Xiamen Botanical Gardens. Absolutely stunning. Also where I learned that Chinese women are elite at posing. Seriously—full-on Vogue-level photoshoots were happening everywhere. These women were dressed to kill.
Meanwhile, I looked like a jet-lagged gremlin in my travel clothes.
We wandered the gardens for hours. With all of us were dripping sweat, we decided to break for coconuts at a tiny café. The owner kindly moved a fan closer to us—bless him. It didn’t do much, but the gesture meant everything.
At one point, I went looking for a bathroom and stumbled upon a photoshoot in front of a giant palm tree. This woman was serving. I tried to recreate the vibe with Dev’s help. Let’s just say… it didn’t work.
Dim Sum & Island Drives
Mark took us to dim sum after the gardens. He chatted with the waiter in Mandarin and then proudly told us our meal would be half off.
Bless this man.
We feasted on dumplings and new dishes Mark recommended. Dev didn’t even puke—which was a win, considering her last visit to China involved a lot of, well, rejection from her stomach.
After lunch, Mark drove us around Xiamen Island. We ended up on this salmon-colored sand beach with a towering statue of a woman guarding the shore. Mark said she protected sailors returning to the island.
I loved that. Women holding it down, across every culture.
A group of local women began taking photos of both I and Dev on the beach. Since we couldn’t communicate, I offered a peace sign and said, “Selfie?” Cue giggles. We took twenty-five photos together. I counted.
Bali Arrival: Reunited & It Feels So Good
After a quick rest back at Mark’s, we headed to the airport for our final flight to Bali. He dropped us off with big hugs and waves.
We landed in Denpasar around 11:30 p.m., tired but buzzing. We had arranged transport to Ubud through Ala’s Green Lagoon, our favorite guesthouse. Dom had messaged saying someone would be waiting at arrivals.
We didn’t see a sign with our names, but we weren’t stressed—I had data and we knew we were a bit early. The air was thick and delicious with Bali humidity.
I cracked open a couple of Bintang Radlers (aka the holy grail of Indonesian beer—(zesty lemon meets crisp lager) with some rupiah I had stashed away.
Just as I took my first sip, I looked up—and there they were.
Dom and Kadek. Smiling. Waiting.
I dropped everything and ran into their arms. All four of us collapsed into a giant, laughing hug.
“I KNEW IT!” I shouted, nearly crying.
Dom grinned. “Suuuuprise.”
We headed to the parking garage. On the way, some random guy offered us a ride.
I smiled and said, “No thank you—I’ve got the best driver in Bali already.”
They beamed.
The drive to Ubud was filled with the weirdest, most chaotic music I’ve ever heard. No idea what genre it was. I had my head out the window, grinning like a dog on the way to the beach.
We were back.
Together.
And I could feel something magical brewing.
How could it not?
The gang was back for three whole weeks.
See you next Wednesday!!!!
—Shan
