Originally published March 2018.

I was dropped off at a crowded curb of an Indonesian intersection, the first step I would take on an actual city street in this new country. A river of motorbikes flowed around me, following the changing current of traffic that goes wherever it wants here, for it is not bound by the banks of traffic laws or road markings. I find out quickly that it is every man for himself on these roads, each gain of a few meters a constant battle between vying drivers. I’m not a very aggressive driver, and considering the amount of aggression and confidence it takes to even change “lanes” (metaphorical ones, because no road markings) here, I would be trapped in my driveway forever if I lived here. Thankfully I didn’t have to worry about driving in his river, but I did have to figure out how to walk in it, which requires almost just as much confidence. My brain is finally learning which way to look in expectation of traffic now, since it has been three months of being in places where they drive on the left side of the road, I find my way through the streets quickly and easily.

Motorbikes carry anyone and everyone here, from infant to grandma, confident twenty year old guys with no helmet or shoes, sleeping babies, standing three year olds, fancily clad women riding side saddle on the back behind an equally fancily clad woman holding her dress down, entire work tool sets tied up and teetering off the back, taking up twice the space the actual bike does.

People are constantly honking their horns and zooming around in unpredictable ways, but somehow people keep their cool, like this one elderly lady we passed, her wispy gray hair blowing wild and crazy in contrast to her stoic expression. She looked almost like she was in meditation. Or who knows, maybe she knows that meditation is the only way to get to your destination alive.

Getting dropped off in a new place by myself is one of the most invigorating things about traveling for me, and it never gets less fun. The first couple days are such a special time, the days where anxiety and jitters are still fresh because you don’t know how to buy water that you can drink safely yet and you don’t know where to buy groceries and the cash you just drew out of an ATM still feels like monopoly money because you’re not used to the exchange rate yet and you still cant remember if “selemat” in Indonesian means thank you or good morning so you just smile without saying anything instead… After you get acquainted in a place, the extra invigoration of having to figure everything out is no longer going to be there, so I try to be as present as I can in the arrival.

It takes about 10 meters of walking for jitters to be shaken and for me to be aware of my very quick falling head over heels for the town of Ubud. All of one’s backpacker dreams in one place… culture, art, music, beautiful hindu temples on every corner, lush green jungle, markets selling strange looking spikey spheres that look like they would rip your throat to shreds but apparently are edible and delicious, local restaurants called Warungs that overflow with the best authentic Indonesian dishes for around $3 a meal, amazing coffee culture, and all of the most beautiful flowy clothes that one could ever want to exchange their tattered and torn backpacker clothes for.   

Speaking of these clothes, I don’t like shopping. Actually very few things put me in a bad mood more quickly than having to go into a mall knowing that I have to look through racks of clothes and spend too much time in fitting rooms to find a pair of jeans that fit.
So I just don’t, and therefore have had most of my clothes for 4+ years. However, the clothes here are just asking to be worn on my body forever. We’ll see if I give in and find a way to make room in my backpack. Or I guess I could just trade something out.

My clothes are holding up for the most part though, despite van life in New Zealand training me that anything and everything worn is also a convenient napkin for whatever substance needs to be wiped off your face or feet, whether it be food, toothpaste, dirt, blood. Considering this and the infrequent laundry in my life these days, I’m probably just a giant walking bundle of bacteria at this point, but my immune system is still going strong with no sickness yet, though I know my share of the traveler’s squirts will probably come eventually, probably at some inconvenient time where a toilet is nowhere to be found, like it always does.

I am still shedding weight of items I have found that you really just don’t need while traveling. The most recent ditching was my dry shampoo — my hair is greasy with or without it these days, and I’ve found that the whole messy bun/buff band combo is actually something I do enjoy rocking the days that go by without showering. Plus, as much as you sweat here, the salt helps dry your hair out better than dry shampoo anyway.

Day one in Ubud was walking around for a couple hours sweating profusely as I carried my backpack through the crowded streets and markets, killing time until I was supposed to meet up with Ryan, my couchsurfing host. My thoughts mainly switched back and forth from “OH MAN THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL” and “OH MY GOSH I’M IN SOUTHEAST ASIA.”

I eventually met up with Ryan, my couchsurfing host, at a coffee shop on the main street, and we talked for 6 hours straight. I rode on his motorbike (yes, with my giant backpack) to his house, dropped off my stuff at his place, which is a part of a Balinese family compound where everyone has separate living spaces but there is a communal outside kitchen area and compound temple that everyone shares. Most of his neighbors don’t speak fluent English, but I was greeted with excited smiles as I walked past on the way to his place. This is the view from his place:

We walked around Ubud for a couple hours as we continued to talk about our experiences traveling. Ryan was born in Alabama but has lived all over the world, growing up in a military family, and then continuing traveling after college, getting visas and jobs here and there, in Japan, in Australia, and now teaching English online during his stay in Bali. Ryan is yet another couchsurfing host who automatically extended my world-wide family. He of the same tribe of seekers trying to figure out how to be human in a world where the old thing doesn’t work anymore, yet don’t know how to fully bring the new thing into being yet. He took me on a short cut through the Monkey Forest in the dark as motor bikes zoomed past us on a narrow path that winds its ways through trees with monkeys lurking in their tops, and suddenly the forest opened up and we were at a beautiful bar/music venue called Bali Bohemia, where we sat upstairs at low tables surrounded by pillows and bean bags, drinking beers while monkeys raged in domestic fights in the trees and on the power lines right behind us.

The next day I woke up extremely nauseous for some reason, fearing that somehow I had already extracted some bacteria from accidentally drinking shower water or something (Ryan did that and didn’t have a solid poop for 6 days so I was concerned), but it eventually passed when I met up with Danielle and Lucas to go rafting. The driver picked me up at Ryans and we were taken to the rafting company. Our rafting guide, Made (Oli) took us down the beautiful Telaga Waja River through jungle and rice paddies.

We talked about life in Bali, him apologizing because his English wasn’t very good and us encouraging him that he was doing great and that we could understand him fine. We stopped to take some pictures and we took turns Jumping in the current and floating down on our backs until we could stand up again.

After rafting we were served lunch at the cafe affiliated with the rafting company, and enjoyed dishes I am still learning the names that we can’t seem to get enough of.

On our way back to Ubud, we stopped at the Luwak coffee plantation. Luwak coffee is made from coffee beans that are extracted from the feces (yes, the literal poop) of the civet cat. The civet eats a diet of mostly red coffee berries, and through the digestion process, the coffee beans are fermented by the bacteria in the gut of the civet before being pooped out in these poop logs.

The poop logs are collected, the coffee beans separated, cleaned, and dried in the sun. Then the dried beans are roasted over a wood fire with constant stirring for about an hour and a half, and then hand ground into coffee grounds to make Luwak coffee, a delicacy coffee where the grounds are steeped in hot water and served without being filtered.

So of course we had to try it.

We sat down at the seating area and were served cups of Luwak coffee along with free samples of teas and other coffees made by produce of the plantation, including lemongrass tea, ginger tea, safron tea, red rice tea, mangosteen tea, coconut coffee, cacao hot chocolate, sweet potato coffee, and traditional Balinese coffee to name a few. They were all amazing, including the Luwak coffee.

The Luwak coffee was really tasty! I honestly couldn’t tell that the flavor was that different than other black coffee that I’ve had, though it was fairly stronger than most brews. It was pleasant though. Who knew cat poop coffee could be appetizing.

We eventually made it back to Ubud, rested until dinner, ate Mie Goreng at a local Warung for dinner for $2, and went back to Bali Bohemia to sit and have drinks while extremely talented local musicians performed in an open mic night. I couldn’t stop shaking my head and smiling as I looked around at the sea of people surrounding us, every person so unique and beautiful, each embodying their own twist of what it means to take up space in a body, some in flamboyant colors and patterns, some fancy, some grungy, some covered in tattoos and piercings, some covered up in extremely modest attire, everyone sweating. I feel high on joy, and I’m trying to embrace it and accept the gift of this beautiful country I now find myself in. 

Australia was a weird time for me, but it has only taken two days in Bali to completely rid myself of those feelings. I feel refreshed, excited, and so happy. Looking forward to the rest of our time here. My traveling so far has reinforced that the best moments in traveling are the random ones that aren’t planned, so I find myself waking up having no idea what I’m doing more and more, and I have no desire to change that. I am going with the flow, and am so excited to see where this new river takes me. 

Cheers to the Journey, and may your Spirit always reside in a state of Wonder