This villa, to which my (ex) wife finalized her move yesterday, is located in Sanur. As with most villas, it faces a central pool and garden. There are two bedroom suites, each having its own bathroom and shower, and in one of the suites there is also an outdoor bath and shower. The living area is open-air and has a full kitchen at the back. There is also a "maid's room" beyond the kitchen. The villa is, of course, equipped with wifi and cable TV. My (ex) wife (let's just call her Louis) asked me to stay overnight, as her new mate, a semi-retired pilot, was on the job and she was "scared" to stay alone :)
For me, the silence in these villas is deafening. I can't really blame her for feeling afraid. Unlike the common house or apartment in Bali, these villas are isolated in their own little pockets of space and closed in from the outside world. Nothing outside the villa grounds can be seen. It is an eerie, lonely sort of feeling, and opulence itself is not necessarily good company. One kind of wanders in this closed space, wondering where he ought to be, but finds nowhere to go. A sort of longing for 'the real world' creeps into the mind.
In my own house, I am accustomed to being sort of an interactive piece of the neighborhood at large. There is the family in the house behind mine, whose voices you can always hear, the little girl singing, or Kadek wailing because he doesn't want to bathe. People come and go on the street in front, cars and motorbikes, school children. Dogs wander in and out of the house. One may sit on his front porch and wave at the neighbor or chat a bit. It just seems to be a more natural progression of the world, whereas in the typical villa, one seems almost to be hiding from the world.
For me, the silence in these villas is deafening. I can't really blame her for feeling afraid. Unlike the common house or apartment in Bali, these villas are isolated in their own little pockets of space and closed in from the outside world. Nothing outside the villa grounds can be seen. It is an eerie, lonely sort of feeling, and opulence itself is not necessarily good company. One kind of wanders in this closed space, wondering where he ought to be, but finds nowhere to go. A sort of longing for 'the real world' creeps into the mind.
In my own house, I am accustomed to being sort of an interactive piece of the neighborhood at large. There is the family in the house behind mine, whose voices you can always hear, the little girl singing, or Kadek wailing because he doesn't want to bathe. People come and go on the street in front, cars and motorbikes, school children. Dogs wander in and out of the house. One may sit on his front porch and wave at the neighbor or chat a bit. It just seems to be a more natural progression of the world, whereas in the typical villa, one seems almost to be hiding from the world.
But each to his own, I guess. I suppose that if you're in an intimate relationship, the intimacy of the villa would be a welcome thing. And of course it's a great place for people to gather, swim, share a meal, and so forth.
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