I should be totally excited that we’re in Bali – enjoying the gentle roll of the waves, the swaying palm trees and flawless blue sky overhead, and the breeze blowing through the bales – however, I can’t get past the image of my husband or son being arrested and thrown into prison for a) bribing a government official (husband) or b) entering the country illegally (son) or of me throwing myself on the mercy of the immigration officials and screaming, “Take me instead!! It’s not his fault! He’s only a child, even if he is 6-feet tall!” You see, when we transited through Singapore we were informed that Trevor’s passport expires in 5 months. I, of course, knew that, but I didn’t realize that Indonesia required a 6-month validity. We have become quite complacent in our travel planning, I’m afraid to say. No longer can I look at the woman who is trying to feed a Balinese squirrel climbing up the tree and say, “How can anyone be so stupid?” because I am now one of those stupid people. I digress…So we arrive in Bali and our fears are confirmed. They take us to a dingy back room and then ask to speak to Brad alone. I know what’s going on back there, but they make us wait a hellish 25 minutes. $200 later, we’re in Bali. But now I have heart palpitations imagining what they might do to us as we try to exit Indonesia. I won’t begin to appreciate the sights and sounds of Bali until I’m safely on Japanese soil because, yes, that ‘s where we call home. I won’t even publish this until I’m safe at home because of the fear that some Indonesian is reading my blog! Because of course, that’s happening.