The other night, T and I went to dinner at a relatively new restaurant in Ubud called the Dragonfly. We had wandered past it earlier in the day and seen that it had burritos, and we were most interested to try Balinese burritos, so we went.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we were greeted by a little guy who was all blinding smile. He asked us whether we would like to sit inside or out, and when we hesitated, he cried, “Sit outside! It is more romantics! There is a candle!” And then started cracking up.

Let it be said I liked this man immediately.

So we sat at the romantics table, and ordered our food from another server: some spring rolls to start, and one burrito and one Cobb salad. Our friend soon returned with our spring rolls, and asked where to put it. When we told him we were sharing, he said “Of course! Sharing is more romantics!” And then walked away laughing to himself.

After we finished our spring rolls, he returned with the mains. He tried to give me the salad and T the burrito, and we corrected him. He stopped for a minute, thrown, and then looked at T and said “REALLY?!” and then collapsed into giggles. Apparently men don’t order salad in Bali.

He came back a little later to check on us, and told us he was going to do a magic trick. He took a flower off the table and told us he would make it disappear into his arm. It took three times, but he did it in the end. We were suitably impressed, and once again, we were rewarded by his laugh, which is a little like water in a waterfall: beautiful to see and hear, and you don’t want it to stop.

At this point, I wanted this man to be my best friend.

It should also be said that he would walk around the restaurant serving other tables, and would look back at me and smile. This was the most endearing thing he could do, and I wanted to take him on our trip, in my backpack, and have him laugh all day long.

He came around again during dessert, and by this time, the restaurant was nearly empty, so we talked for a while. His name is Wayan, but he has a nickname that sounds like Shaquille. When I told him he was a very good waiter, he told me he has been waiting on tables for three years all over Ubud. I said he was a master waiter, and he shook his head and replied, “No master waiter, but one day….I will be!” (complete with fist pump for the eventual master waiterdom and, of course, a fit of giggles at the end).

He asked us if we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and when we said we were married, he made a sad face and asked if I had any sisters or cousins for him. Oh my, Wayan is so smooth. Lucky for him, I was already married or I would have considered eloping with him just for the laughter.

He told us more about himself, as well. He is the eldest child, with a younger brother. His greatest dream is to work for Carnival Cruise Lines as a waiter, and then one day, come back to Bali. He wanted to go to college, but his mother was sick and he had to give the money he saved to her, and he was trying again to save up. He lived in a nearby village, and he could take us there—would we like for him to take us there tomorrow? He didnt have to work until 1, and he could come with a friend on motorbikes and pick us up.

Guess who said no. (Hint: it was not me.) Its a good thing I have T around with me, or I would be giving money to every dark-eyed person who came asking, as well as going home with people like Wayan, who may well have good intentions, or who could just as easily get me to his village and not let me leave until I gave him a MILLION DOLLARS.

So, we did not go to Wayan’s village. I did, however, get his email address, and I plan to use it. I have no Balinese friends, and I can’t imagine a better one than him. Unfortunately, laughter doesnt translate as well over email, but I’ll give it a shot.