It’s been too long since I’ve traveled. I can’t remember the last time I’ve shared exploratory stories with other travelers and made friends with a random person. I don’t recall the last adventure where my feet ached from walking. It’s been staggeringly AGES since I’ve been utterly, blissfully in awe of my surroundings. Those moments of wonder and reverence are where I find most meaning in my life. On top of a volcano, eating delicious food in a tiny hole in the wall, getting jumped on by a monkey. It’s a quest; a journey. I’ll keep on going, for now.
My little town — Milledgeville — is a bit trite, and inspires little awe in me.
But Indonesia? It rejuvenated me. From the chilly waters contrasting the sticky air to the delicious and interesting food, which spiced up my mouth for weeks, I found excitement again. I finally felt a bit of traction on the wheels of my life, lately spinning out of control.
Right before I left, I encountered this phrase on social media: “Stuck in Bali.” Flights in and out were canceled because a volcano was “spitting up” and “coughing,” as one local told us. While I imagine people prayed to get home, I said a silent prayer to get me there before all the airports really shut down.
But the volcanoes kept their cool – so to speak – and I made it home alright. (Darn.)
Climbing a couple volcanoes was my favorite. I’m one of those people hoping for more from my life. Concerned about meaning and purpose. I’m nowhere near nirvana, but I sure feel closer several thousand feet into the atmosphere, looking out over the world. Neither were severely, nor even slightly active. And to my chagrin, there wasn’t any bubbling lava. No, I wasn’t expecting any, but a girl can dream, right?
On top of Mount Batur were several monkeys. They hung around the people, and if we weren’t careful, snatched our breakfasts. They climbed right onto a few people to grab food from their hands.
And in the monkey forest in Ubud (Central Bali), a monkey jumped on me. I wasn’t eating anything… he’d seen my water bottle. They’re smart little buggers.
The really spectacular food was all the fruit in season in the fantastic tropical air. Dragonfruit, guava, papaya, pineapple… to name a few. I tried passion fruit for the first time. The fresh mangos were phenomenal and I’d previously turned my nose when I tried them. But maybe they just have to be the kind of fresh where they actually were allowed to ripen on the tree instead of being picked far too early to be put on a ship.
Like any place, it has flaws. Here, there was a significant lack of clean and complete sidewalks. Literally, we encountered several holes in the sidewalk leading down into the sewer. You had to watch out.
Homeless dogs, potentially feral, are unavoidable. It’s sad, and sadder to think we can’t take care of them. Worse still, if you give one who looks starving some food, it’s likely it’ll attract others and begin a fight.
Bathrooms, bathrooms, bathrooms. If you read any of my Southeast Asia blog posts before, you know the drill. Squat toilets, no toilet paper, and in many places in Indonesia — no discernable flushing mechanism. Just a spout to pour water in. You get your business done and get out. You learn to keep bacterial killing wipes with you at all times.
But guys, as the moral always is, we should go explore. The world is so huge, and the perspective it provides is incredible.
There’s meaning out there, y’all. We just have to find it. SO LET’S GO.
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| Prambanan, a temple in Jogja |
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| Pendawa Beach, Bali |
