In the third week of July this year I took a break from my job and boarded a plane to Bali, with a hope that I could clear my head. I was trying to see if I still had that little strength in me if I were to take a leap of faith.
It was already past 9 pm when I arrived on my airbnb in Canggu. I got hungry and I ordered food online along with a drink. In a bottle. I, who usually counted my every move weighing in the outcome and such, didn’t have any idea that I would struggle opening a bottle. I tried to pull the mouth open with the only thing I found in the pantry; a spoon. Soon after the spoon was bent. I tried to use the table but it's made from wood so I didn't want to risk breaking another property.
What could I do? I started sobbing. While still attempting to pry up the freaking cap with a bent spoon. Until it magically worked. Wowsie.
In the morning I went to a Sunday market and got myself a perfume because I dropped the one I brought from home in the airport’s toilet. Also a silver ring shaped like a fire, that somehow reminded me of Calcifier from Howl’s moving castle.
I went for brunch, sat in the outdoor area while taking Bali’s heat in as the sun was getting higher. I basically spaced out while tried to savor an unexpectedly big portion of avocado toast.
I went to get some manicures after that. My cuticles got bled from being accidentally chipped by the staff but she looked sorry so I didn’t mind. Though it was truly painful to be honest.
I mostly spent the days being on the beach, watching people walk their dog, family on a vacation, and other trivial mundane stuffs. Nothing grand was happening – just as planned.
Except that one morning I cried over a passage from Rilke’s Letters to A Young Poet while sipping hot hojicha latte in St. Ali.
“And if it frightens and pains you to think of your childhood and the simplicity and stillness that go together with it, because you can no longer believe in God, who is everywhere present in it, then ask yourself, dear Mr Kappus, whether you have really lost God after all? Is it not rather the case that you never had possessed him? From when was it supposed to have been? Do you think a child can hold him, him whom grown men only bear with difficulty and whose weight bows down the old? Do you believe that anyone who really has him could lose him like a little pebble, or don’t you think that whoever had him could only be lost by him alone?”
(maybe it wasn’t that grand but to kinda crash out in a public space was new to me thanks)
I moved to Seminyak for a change of scenery but the airbnb was kind of eerie. I kept hearing voices and stompings at night. It was weird because the whole time I was outside it seemed like it was only me who stayed there. I couldn’t sleep at all.
I then again moved on to Sanur and planned to meet my college friend who fled from Melbourne with her boyfriend. We were cycling along the beach and having dinner in a local night market because her boyfriend wanted to try some traditional foods. I was genuinely happy to see her and listening to her life updates that made me proud of who she became. And deep down I wondered if I could ever be as brave as her.
What could I possibly have learned from the trip? Nothing but feeling a bit restful at least, despite not being able to sleep on that night in Seminyak. Maybe I was close to finding that clarity I so hopefully found if only I could stay for another few days, but when capitalism called we had to roll up, right. I didn’t force it though. I just departed from the island to go on with whatever’s left in me and told myself to just carefully live.
And that if another storm knocks on my door I could always fly to Hanoi. Or Japan. Or anywhere with beaches really.
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