Beginnings

It has been three full weeks since we arrived in Bali. Having just made this observation, I feel compelled by habit to follow it up with something along the lines of “…it feels like a life time” or, conversely, “…where has the time gone?” – but I can’t sort it out. Time feels surreal, nearly obsolete. Much in the way we have only one scheduled item a few times a week – our language class at the local library – the days are filled without a tangible routine. A day’s activities materialize in an order that is realized only later, upon reflection. “What am I doing tomorrow?” – “What did I do yesterday”… “What about this afternoon”… these are compartmentalized reflections that are at once useless here, and entirely NOT the point. It feels rather like meditation. Meals are taken when hungry, yoga done when restless, work done when inspired, books read as desired, a swim had when overheated. Despite this, there feels a distinction between this life and a vacation – rather than leaving necessities by the wayside in favor of escapist pursuits – it has been a revelation, a reflection, something that has nothing to do with schedules, racing and deadlines.
There are many little details that I find myself trying to catalogue to write down – tidbits that I would find fun and insightful was I reading rather than writing this narrative. I can’t seem to organize them properly to share …
Yesterday we spent the day on a beautiful beach with a small group of friends from the clinic. The group included Dan and I, the outgoing volunteer coordinator and his wife who is a labour and delivery nurse, the two volunteers we arrived with (a young professional from Boston, and a labour and delivery traveling nurse from LA), and a couple from D.C. who are here to deliver their baby girl within the next month. We bobbed in the turquoise water, rode waves with our bodies and rented foam boards, marveled at the clarity of the water and the tremendous amount of coral washing up on the beach’s white sand. We lounged, ate fresh grilled mahi-mahi, talked, walked, laughed and wondered over the contrast of white sand, turquoise water and black rock cliffs that framed either side of the little beach cove. I read back over these words and feel strange about the image they capture – to pick it out this one day to outline might overshadow the role it plays in the greater context of days lived here and those that remain to be lived in the coming months – it is a part of the whole.
I am trying to decipher whether my overly-philosophical sensibility is a pointed reflection or rather a testament to an introspective morning…perhaps it is both.
Outside the sliding screen doors Momo and Lilo are sleeping sprawled in the shady tiled porch. They were rescued as puppies by the previous tenant that lived in our flat. The landlord of the villa keeps them on and feeds them and they provide security and peculiarly fickle affection. They are a fascinating pair. More than once they’ve escorted us from the main street in the evening, as we stepped out of a taxi from dinner, through the dark side streets into the villa’s courtyard. Given the slightest opportunity they will slip inside the doors of our room and curl up to sleep near the door. Though pleasant company in general, they are still “Bali-dogs” slightly feral, flea-ridden and a bit mangy – and there is the small fact that when woken from sleep, or startled, it is teeth first, questions later. We’ve developed a quirky relationship with them and are both glad of their presence and company as we settle into life in this new home.