In anticipation, my toes dug into the bed of the stream. It was going to be a treat. I inhaled the wet grass and relaxed. The plantain trees and boulders surrounded the spot; offering some seclusion. The stream burbled by, whilst we waited for our turn. Clothes on the rock meant someone was bathing behind it. Just then, ripples of laughter of children and their grandmother reaffirmed our belief that locals used the spring.
The previous evening, we had checked into the nearby Dau Homestay. On our walk, through the paddy fields, to our accommodation, we noticed the spring. Who cared if the homestay had no hot water? Besides, Tirta Gangga Palace was less than a few hundred metres away.