Eat, Pray, Love

dren of rice farmers, sat very still, tentatively staring at the floor, dressed in gold like miniature
deities; they imbued the room with a strange and otherworldly godliness. Outside, the roost-
ers started crowing, even though it was not yet evening, not yet dusk. My traditional Balinese
clothing was squeezing me like an ardent hug, and I was feeling like this was definitely the
strangest—but maybe the happiest—birthday party I’d ever experienced in my whole life.
Eat, Pray, Love