Where the Wild Things Are

April 26^th- May 1^st

Over the Outback somewhere… Somewhere I never go to see, but I’m not worried because I will, someday. Well the long trip home is underway… I’m going through my second worst hangover in Australia, after my final night of Goon (Stanley’s Red Lambrusco) consumption. I cannot split the attribution between last night’s alcohol or the crying I was doing the entire train ride from the Robina Rail Station to Brisbane. I held back when I was dropped off, but after I was left with nothing but my bags, thoughts, memories; I lost it. Unable to comprehend that everything Australia related was over, I could not help myself. Time went by quicker than one can ever imagine, until it actually does. The entire trip seemed like a good weekend and although I was really on summer break, I did not want to be. Things will never be the same. That life and those friends are forever going to be different.

I miss them already. I know that I’ll see them again, but it’s never the same back on the other side where shit is real. Reality? Not sure. Maybe for some. I feel like living a life anything less than what I have been is just settling for less.

I made it. Bali, Indonesia. Talk about Culture Shock… I couldn’t imagine things getting much wilder than here. After negotiating with a cabbie by telling him that I have been here before and that I knew how much a cab cost to Kuta, I paid less than $5 for a 40 minute ride through traffic saturated streets. I arrived at a place that costed $60,000 rupiah a night. When I first checked into my room all I thought I was in Apocalypse Now. Still in Saigon… The fan twisted above my head as my Bintang stood next to me on the bedside table pouring sweat, just like me. My room is better than any rooms I have had in any college semester. I have my own shower, toilet, balcony, and bed. I love Bali already. I have two twin beds, but I am going to be switching into a large one soon*. My balcony overlooks the yard with trees bearing the flowers used in the little boxes that burn incense outside of every workplace. The boxes hold flowers, fruit, crackers, and sometimes cigarettes. I am told that these boxes are offerings to the Gods (of Hinduism).

I used the internet for the first time this morning after brekky. The breakfast was delicious, although the portion was small. Fresh cantaloupe, watermelon, and green melon coupled with a cup of coffee and a warm jaffle stuffed with sliced bananas. I can get used to this. The internet reminds me that there is another world away from here where the environment doesn’t call for continuous cigarettes and Bintangs. Life in The States is now known as The Other Side. The internet is the only way of even attempting to get close to remembering that life.

It’s is freakishly easy to see how this place grabs people and never lets them leave. Everyone is friendly (for the most part) because they are in paradise. Although your typical slow going beachside day with an umbrella drink can be found, the lifestyle in Kuta is quick-paced place under the sun where even walking seems to be ubiquitous with danger: people driving up one-way streets with Bintangs in hand, some on the road, some on the sidewalk almost mowing down tourists and drunken Aussies, some carrying a backpack, some with a bathtub, some with three children. Anything goes on the streets here, and nothing seems surprising. That’s the frightening part.

I looked back yesterday and saw Rory in my sideview mirror: squeezing the handle (as I was), eyes wide open, passing cars, street vendors, and petrol stations. We drove through the Indonesian back roads next to rice paddies and big brown cows with blue skies and a beaming sun. Where am I?

I myself have a scooter, and I’m excited to finally get down south today away from Kuta. Life is going to be simple again: surfing, eating, writing, storytelling, conversation holding, and people meeting.

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* This never happens.