Today is one of those spring rainy days, when the sky is overcast, and the clouds dispel precipitation as necessary. I woke up, aware of the forecast... 90% rain. I donned my flip flops for a day of wetness, and a dress I hadn't worn in some time. A dress I bought in Bali. A dress that takes me back two years, when I was fearless and adventuresome.
A couple of years ago I had a friend who was traveling throughout southeast Asia, on a sojourn, as he went through a life transition. He invited me to meet him out in the world beyond, as he knew I had Spring Break coming up. Okay, but where would I meet you?
He gave me a few different countries that would be easy for him to get to from where he was. I decided on Indonesia, honestly, because it was the cheapest flight. And the furthest to get to. Thirty-six hours... three flights, one looonnnnngggggg layover in Qatar.
I did my research, and discovered that the airport in Qatar had a fancy lounge that was free for fancy people and $40 for everyone else. I had 8 hours. I gladly paid my $40, took a shower (not anticipating a lack of electrical outlet for my international hair dryer but rolling with the circumstances nonetheless), enjoyed free food and drink, and excellent conversation with an Aussie woman returning from Tanzania.
We were women traveling alone internationally. There's a code. We watched each other's things, and knew we had found a kinship in each other, even if just for a few hours.
Sometimes, that's all you need. And that's what it means to be a traveler.
When I got to Jakarta, I met up with my friend, and we adventured in Yogyakarta, meeting up with Muslim school girls while on visit to a fruit plantation-- and getting my first (and to this day only) taste of durian.
Durian can smell like garbage. True story. Thankfully, the durian I consumed had only a minor malodorous scent. It actually reminded me of gyoza-- Japanese dumplings-- with a hint of an onion flavor.
Not what one expects when ingesting a fruit.
We toured ancient relics, got lost on a motorbike more than once, and sought refuge every afternoon when a deluge descended upon the island during its rainy season. Indonesia was hot, and beautiful, and delicious.
We spent four days on the Muslim island of Java, and seven days on Bali. It was a Spring Break to remember, but for me, my eleven days in Indonesia were a time of renewal and joy. Stepping back outside my comfort zone and into the joy of discovery. These are my precepts of living.
And so today, wearing my cute Balinese dress, I reminded myself of this incredible time in my life. I felt magical.
Magical is a great way to be.
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