You could have blindfolded me, turned me around in both directions 100 times before leading me outdoors, and I would have known exactly where I was.  Not all tropics smell the same. This magic isle mixes the humid, the decay, the lichens and frangipani into a concoction that, to me at least, seems unmistakeable.

Good morning Bali.

I spent my first evening in the company of the incomparable General Manager of Amanusa, Sean Flakelar.  I have known Sean for years now, having spent some of my most meaningful travels at Amanjiwo, the lovely property in the Kedu Valley that Sean ran for many years with such  creativity and style.  Now he is here, in Bali, close to his passion, the surf.  He has also expanded his responsibilities to oversee all of the five Indonesian Aman resorts, resorts that are the classics, the originals.  And, say what you will, it is hard to outdo a classic.  What is it that Claude Levi Strauss says in Tristes Tropiques — something to the effect that only the first effort is really of value, that everything thereafter is but a pale comparison.  There are lots of comparisons here on Bali..I can see them already, and I have not left the property.  The views from my bale are studded with rooftops and lights and even a very large crane in the distance erecting yet another 5*.  I will visit some of them during this trip, and I am sure I will be enchanted by many.  But my heart is here with a staff that takes you into its tender care, with an aesthetic that everywhere speaks of the maker’s hand, with the profusion of Aman’s iconic flower, the fragrant tuberose, with a simplicity that never falls short of comfort and, yes, the luxury of everything being just perfect.

We laughed a lot last night, sharing stories that featured mutual friends.  Bali has always had this very tight community of expatriates which is one reason why it has always been so easy to leave, come back, and to feel totally at home.  In fact, that is one of the hallmarks of some very special places – they allow you to step away and then to slip back – an evening of story catchup providing the missing beat – into a seamless reentry.  Of course people move and die and so the configuration of the group changes.  Not long ago mystery and storytelling attended these leavings, but social media has changed all that for every movement is known now instantly.  And something else struck me last night.  There are friends I will see on this visit to Bali who Sean may not see for another year.  The reason is not lack of desire but, very simply, traffic.  It can take hours to drive along the coast and many more to go up country.  No longer is a spontaneous cup of tea an option unless you want to stay the night.  Traffic has interrupted the fabric of casual interaction and, as a result, this tight little community of expatriates has become more a loose collection of friend cells.  The glue that binds is now a combination of old school interaction and the mobile device.  Does it matter?  Probably not, but I liked that tight group and, at one point in my life, it had my back.