I drove my bike passed the Balinese narrow alleyway under the rain around someone else's neighbourhood the other day. After 5 months, of traveling for work and spending time with family, I came back here. It's one of the things about Bali. The narrow alleyways. They are not all pretty with pavement, concrete blocks and yellow frangipani trees on each side. There are some and some are not. There are those that nestled between the paddy fields, with land and stones on the ground, strike-hard smell of roosters shits on some spots, neighbourhood pigs odor and snore and children voices in tune with babies cry. They are not always pretty on the eyes, but they are real. This is the Bali that I still can feel since way before I reached alcohol-allowed age. And of course, at the same time, Bali is pretty. It has changed so much and it's changing. But there are some touch of feelings and some smell of memories that stay the same. This is part of Bali that I've known for so long.