The world is too big, too vast, to revisit places of our past, so when I go somewhere, I do so knowing that I’ll likely never see it twice. I think having that mindset helps me to be present and appreciative — to not take the experience for granted. After all, that’s where we’re painfully flawed. We make the mistake of thinking there’s always a next time, a tomorrow, a second, third, or tenth chance.
Sitting on the sandy shores of Nusa Penida, waiting to board my boat and say my goodbyes, I tried to let the last of it sink in, hoping to carry a piece of it with me, but knowing it would fade with time. I pictured myself sunburnt and uncomfortably sandy, staring ahead at the ocean, about to hike out, and saying to myself, “I must have done something right to deserve this view, to be in this place….” And that’s the moment I want to remember — that view, those words.
I boarded a small boat, which took me to nearby Nusa Lembongan. It was 8:00 and I intended to catch the 8:45 fast-boat to the Gili Islands, which I located online. What I didn’t know, but should have guessed, is that the listed time is only a target. You can buy a ticket, but the boat won’t be going anywhere until it’s FULL — packed to the brim. And if it doesn’t fill, you don’t leave.
So, I watched and waited. Nearly an hour passed without any fellow passengers and I started to wonder if I needed to drum up a plan b. Then, all of the sudden, the floodgates opened and the Aussies came crashing in — by boat, by bus, by car. Never in my life have I seen so many leg tattoos. Look left, look right, and almost everyone was sporting something on their lower limbs. Who knew it was such a thing. I certainly didn’t.
Once we were a group of roughly 70, we boarded a barge, which ferried us to a much larger vessel. I hopped on top to escape the crowd for the two hour ride, and let’s just say that by the time I climbed down, I was a little toasty, despite the sunblock and baseball cap.
The Gili’s are made up of three islands. You have Gili T, the party island. Gili Air, the something for everyone. And Gili Meno, the baby of the bunch, with no roads, cars, or nightlife. I’m sure anyone reading this can guess where I jumped off.
Itty-bitty Meno is beautifully simple. There’s no frills or fuss, just beach life. I rented a small casita close to the shore and I’d venture to say that I’m the only person here, sans partner. Everywhere I look its cute couples holding hands, frolicking in the ocean, and posing for pictures. Love is most certainly in the air… and then there’s me — just a party of one.
You can pretty much guess what sparked most conversations. The never-ending question: am I ever afraid when traveling alone. Tonight, my knee-jerk response was, “No. I trust others to do right by me, and I trust myself to forgive them when they don’t.” And it was kind of an “aha” moment. I don’t think I’ve actually said that last part aloud. And in that sentence, I realized just how far I’ve come from where and who I once was. It’s a good feeling to know that you’ve grown.
When I returned to my room after dinner, my party had grown to two. I had a guest who arrived uninvited and I desperately wanted him out. Right now! For the next ten minutes, I ran around the room, trying to smash him with a trash can, but he was too quick, too clever. He scurried under the bed, which was wise, as there’s no way in hell I’m reaching into the dark. For all I know, he’s not alone. There might be an entire team of cockroaches under there, just waiting to pounce on me.
So, like any normal girl would do, I jumped on the bed in lightening speed and lowered the mosquito net for protection. I pinned the ends down with whatever was near — a laptop, hairbrush, book — so that he (or they) couldn’t attack in the night. I would have to do without washing my face or brushing my teeth, which I hate, but it was far too risky to make the crossing.
And there you have it. While everyone else is enjoying a nice romantic evening, I’m being held captive… by a bug.
