Bali: Head or Heart: A Memoir in Paradise

By Emily Chevron

Emily Chevron has been on an emotional journey through life without guidelines or instructions. Starting a new chapter in Bali at age fifty-two was a decision she will never regret. This is her first book.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Jun 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982290689

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Going back to the time that I inherited a house and money

I had inherited the house I was living in after my father died, my mother had passed seven years earlier and I decided to invest in property. I decided to drive over to the house that my parents used to own in Labrador on the Gold Coast I parked out the front of the property and I had a figure in my head if I was to buy it as an investment and a rental property. Amazingly that was the price that the house was offered to me at. A deal was done and I became the owner of the property and rented that out and I was receiving the rental income each month.

I had a cleaning business that I had started in the year 2000 after I had worked as a Property Manager for about 8 years and decided that I wanted to be paid for the work hours that I actually did. Working in Real Estate is a rewarding, (not financially), time consuming and a team based profession. I had worked in Sales and Property Management, I loved Property Management, it was an all consuming job constant and intense pressure but rewarding, never a dull moment. I always needed cleaners so I was moving forward with my cleaning business and also investments and making the money that I needed to pay off my loans.

I was finding it difficult to keep on top of everything, working day and night to complete jobs, picking up and dropping off workers, keeping the money flowing in, paying staff, bills and still trying to hire experienced, workers, pick them up because they didn’t have their own car and drop them home when they needed to go. My son was working for me as well and he was brilliant when he turned up and wasn’t stoned! Regardless, I have always been an organiser and everything was going well but I was exhausted every day and night when I came home. Invoices had to be created, mail opened and bills had to be paid.

I then met this very tall, handsome, great sense of humour spoke with a French accent man ooh la la. I met Harry at a singles night on the Gold Coast. Charming and into me! He was also into property investment, and owned his own home. We hit it off, how absolutely wonderful, how lucky am I?

Well we had a wonderful time together, I was part of his Mauritian family in an area outside of Brisbane and most weekends we would go up and visit the family, cousins, uncles, aunties, no end to the family and friends, I was accepted with open arms, loved, fed, involved with the children, respected, I had a family life with them that I had always craved, went to dance nights Mauritian style, laughter, acceptance, belonging, love, communicated with, they would come and stay at my house in Bundall, downstairs was a flat and a large swimming pool steps away. So happy for about two years. Well love is blind! So blind!

Harry said that he was going to a Casino in Brisbane with a friend, it did occur to me that he was going out with his friend a lot but I was really tired and had to catch up on some sleep.

He was cheating on me. Devastated! Broken! Self esteem shattered! How did I know? His Mobile Phone, a message came through while I was in the kitchen and he was somewhere else in the house. I replied to the message and said I love you will you marry me? No reply came back.

I cried every day, at home, in the work van, at the cleaning jobs, going home, at home, in bed. I found it hard to focus on anything, my mail was piling up, unopened, bills to be paid, accounts to be sorted, everything was as if nothing mattered, however in reality life goes on and it all mattered. I wasn’t dealing with anything but then I found Bali.

CHAPTER 2

Escape

So off I fly on my way to Bali, not knowing what I was heading into with practically no idea of the place I was going to, a few notes from friends who’d already been there meant little to me until I arrived in Bali. A culture shock or, how I would handle the money, converting would be a new thing for me and maths was not a strong suit of mine at all. A new adventure was taking over my thoughts, finally not in tears over the painful, relentless tear soaked eyes and face, breakup.

We landed in Bali at Denpasar, exited the plane, excitement and humidity blanketed me, and however, something happened to my soul! I’m home! I love it already, and this feeling was on the tarmac and stayed with me for years to come, I was home.

Having gone through immigration, bag collection I made it out the front of the airport to a stadium of Balinese people with sign cards with people’s names and hotel names written over them, thank goodness! Off I went in a van, piles of luggage and excited passengers going to various hotels and the same hotel as me. We passed by the most exotic building structures, squeezed in between dilapidated stalls that sold food. Mini markets everywhere, a new vision at every metre, scenes that I had never seen, motor bikes filled with single riders, double, triple passengers, children squeezed in behind Mum and Dad. Riders hanging onto with their wares loaded on their bikes, live chickens in a cage strung onto the back of the bike. No apparent road rules, traffic light colours to be ignored or unclear as the lights were packed with dust. Each mode of transport on a very important fast and furious track, swerving, weaving, taking any opportunity to get to their destination as fast as they could it seemed. I couldn’t believe that there were no accidents, cars and bikes changing lanes without any apparent space but they were on a mission and the fastest way to get there was important.

We pulled up at various hotels, luxury in marble and stone I had never seen before, intricate wooden carvings, elaborate water fountains as a feature in foyers, people dressed in traditional dress to meet the new tourists, unload their luggage on carts and lead them to check in reception which was always very large, massive areas of tiled floors, plants, and huge wooden carvings of traditional Balinese gods and creatures. So much to take in visually on the trip to my hotel.

CHAPTER 3

Smells, stalls, shops, people, chickens

Luggage set in my room, took in the lay out, comfortable but not luxurious, small balcony at the front with two chairs. I went outside as I wanted to see everything now! Beautiful gardens, exotic orchids attached to trees, frangipani trees everywhere, various colours, walked around the gardens, found the dining area and decided not to waste any time at the hotel, I must get out and explore.

I have a terrible sense of direction so I did a lot of walking in every direction every day. My first day look at my surrounds was a great idea; I saw so many stalls, bright clothes, sarongs, Bali handmade wares, lighting, jewellery, bags, wallets, wooden penis bottle openers, T Shirts, so much more, so interesting, so new.

I needed a pair of thongs and chose some. How Much? I asked Two Hundred Thousand Rupiah was the reply so not having a clue what the money was worth in Indonesian currency I consequently paid $20 for a pair of rubber thongs! Never made that mistake again.... well sort of not...OK so I stuffed up time & time again this trip.

I saw offerings on pavements and they were so colourful with petals from flowers, mostly Marigold. Altars nailed to walls in shops, incense aromas, chickens pecking at the rice inside the small offering cases that were on the road, so many tourists...so many choices for shopping I didn’t know where to start as I wanted to buy everything I saw, every bright colour, enticing me but in reality I had to be happy with window shopping for now and sort out the money value before I went out again.

I walked for blocks and blocks of shops, astounded by the selection of items for sale, the sheer ingenuity, talents, designs, craftsmanship, make something out of anything. Artwork, jewellery, clothes, T shirts, Men’s clothes, shoes, handbags, leatherwork, sarongs piled as high as my chest, colours popping out to the potential buyer, anything and everything displayed and if you stopped and looked at anything the stallholder would be onto you straight away to buy. I would have to learn the art of bargaining.

CHAPTER 4

No more comfort zones

One place that I had been told to go to by my work colleagues was a Hotel in Kuta as I like to drink, dance, have fun, and play pool. That is where I headed to later on in the night.

I must have been too early and rocked up to the hotel to find a vacant stool at the bar, not that many people there. So I ordered an interesting drink displayed with signs, photos, of vodka, something else and something else in a fish bowl. This was fun, just what I was looking for, a duo playing modern music, people were encouraged to get up and sing. I looked around and after consuming