Balinese culture is one which is steeped in art and Hinduism. Every building is artful as it stands. Art is not an afterthought, it is the only way to make something. The air smells faintly of rice and frangipani. Crossing the street is a fleet-footed adventure. The jungles are forever encroaching, trying to swallow the architecture. Greenery hangs over every fence, dripping into pools of leaves. The air is sticky and everyone is a little sweaty. After a day of sweating in ways I didn’t know I could, meeting new friends, and hiking, Bintang, the local beer, with a squeeze of lime, is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
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