Now that I'm back in the grind that consists of my desk, computer, coffee-maker, leaky gas-heater, and candy stash meant for my students, I think it's time to write about my hooligan traipsing through the south in a broad sense.

Let's see, I believe I left out some adventures about Bali. Arriving in Bali after spending a few days in the droopingly humid Malaysian jungle was a bit of culture shock. Needless to say, it only added to my discombobulation when it was brought to my attention that I had crossed into the southern hemisphere for the first time in my 22-year 10-month existence.

Anyway, the arrival at the "compound" was flooring for two reasons: The villa that towered over us, and the little sandwiches that greeted my clamoring stomach. Forget the 8 staff members, infinity pool, silken drapes on the canopy beds... I was down from the start with a private cook. I mean, I wish that I had the ability to cook (as you might recall, my patriarchal submissive host-mother won't let me touch the toaster), but I like waking in the morning and being poured a cup of coffee and asking for my eggs over-medium so I can mop up the yolk with those freshly made croissants.

What I'm saying about Bali is this: I have never been so pampered in my entire life. I've never had someone unfold my napkin into my lap for me. Hell, I was almost certain they'd wipe my ass if I dared ask.

I can't see my life mimicking such ludicrous vacation hospitality, but if I ever get the cash flow, and State Department warnings about Bali do not contain the phrase, "terrorist attacks are imminent", while listing the many types of threats posed, then I could consider a regular vacation at the Emerald Sunset Villa in Bali, Indonesia.