good life

i woke up this morning to the quiet sound of falling rain. i love rainy days, but while on vacation in paradise, rain is a mixed blessing. today it would be a good thing, because my skin is crispy, painful, red and itchy from too much sun. rather than giving up on the beach, i decided to ride over to have breakfast. kopi bali and jaffle pisang was the thought, but just spending the time on the sand was what i was hungry for.

the day has been slipping by, and it's lunch time now. i just finished a wonderfully simple burger. it was served dutch style with mayonnaise, to which I added soya. empire meets local; or east meets west on the crossroads of trade. enjoying is all about finding the fusion. after this long in asia, i have given up on the idea that american burgers are the best way to eat. it's impossible to find them consistently, and using the local ingredients just make it taste better. i did skip the sambal sauce, there needs to be limits in life.

while sitting on the beach this morning, the third squall of the day passed. most of the other early beach-goers had abandoned hope during the second squall. it had lasted more than an hour, and prolonged tropical storms while sitting on the beach are just too much for most people. i waited it out because i had a feeling it was going to clear. at the first short break, i hopefully moved down to the chairs. minutes later the third gentle squall came through with another extended rain that brought visibility below VFR. i sat under an umbrella not made to protect anything from more than sun, and listened to the rain and surf. water dripped down my back, as i laid comfortably within the white noise cocoon.

as i walked back towards the cafe, i was coaxed into a visit to the beach-side massage hut. i amused myself by playing with a local kid whose mother was telling him to take a nap, while getting massaged by the aunties. it's hard to remember that they are my age. after 20+ years on the beach they look as though they have a generations head start on me. the beach community is a village of families who watch each other, we are just visitors to their lives.

it's when i experience others lives up close that i think about how blessed i am. i get to travel, but have people i love to keep in touch with while on the road. i never feel as though i am alone. my major fear 7 years ago. but while learning to enjoy being solitary, i also learned that out of sight does not need to be out of mind. distance does not need to limit connection; if you work on it. technology helps; sms, email, youtube and voice have all been used in the past few days to allow holidays around the world to be shared.

these are good days. the sun is out and the rain is losing its 60% chance of impacting beach time. i am drinking storm and i can feel the energy levels rising. it reminds me that i have been playing doom with a red light flashing; warning me to take cover. the trip feels like i have slipped into a quiet room, steel door protecting me from attacks, and i have found an energy pack to bring me back to health. just in time, because one more blast and i could have lost this level.

when ash was here this summer she told me that I was living large. she meant that expat housing, jockey parking, friends who own restaurants and the ability to slip away to the beach should be appreciated. sometimes i forget that, and i should apologize for my semi-occasional tantrums. i am not one of these 9 year olds, working on a beach selling bracelets and hoping for good luck to make a sale today. but sometimes, i do feel like the distracted kid being told to take a nap.

i get to have connected travel. i get to relax with my storm. i get to talk to the aunties, or strike up random conversations with nice strangers. i can go back to my hotel and take a hot shower, send my wet clothes to laundry, order a car for tomorrow's angel, and think about what i want for dinner. if i add in apple store purchases, and coming christmas presents, i know my bug is right. i am living large.

all I needed was a few days under a wet umbrella to realize:

this is the good life.