It is four weeks since we left Indonesia and returned the different beat of home town Australia. While I am becoming more attune with the present, and the simple joy of being irrespective of location, there seems to be a critical point around day 28 when my whole body itches with wanderlust and airline flight schedules start appearing in my aura. It is my parent's fault; if they had kept me locked in a cupboard with a couple of toys and a glass of water I wouldn't have tasted the aliveness of explroation. Yet there they are, over 70 and still flitting around the country setting a bad example. They are only home long enough to rig up the next vehicle of choice, then away again on another outback track, highway or ocean. Seriously, I admire them greatly and can reflect that I haven't yet crested the hilltop of "mid-life" and thus might just have enough years to fit in half of my adventure plans. For now, a couple of photos from our last days in Bali, including an experimental blurry shot of our bedspread one rainy evening.