Saying No

I've recently discovered the beauty of saying "No" in my life. No is a beautiful word. It releases energy in a cathartic way, almost as if giving the world your middle finger. It's empowering, refreshing, and releasing. It sets boundaries for you, reminding you that you simply don't have to do what it is people are demanding. Instead, it pushes you towards maintaining a standard for your wants, desires, and needs. It's okay to be selfish. Do what you want, you're a grown-up.

I've learned the beauty of saying "No" to my job, relationships, and my own thoughts. Not today! Instead of stressing myself out beyond than what I deserve; I took a mini-vacation. Granted, I just had a vacation three weeks ago; I now realize that I really need to amp my retirement plan and just not work for the rest of my life, however, this mini-vacation was unexpected. Perhaps even undeserved, but it was definitely needed for my sanity, emotional health, and physical well-being. Babies are hard work, y'all. Especially ones who are naturally stubborn, restless, and teething. Motherhood doesn't seem so appealing as of late, regardless, I just had to say "NO" to work [and life] a week ago. I know my limits and I needed to say "No" otherwise I wouldn't have been the best caretaker for Mr. H.  

This mini-vacation was brought on by a breakup that came out of nowhere. We were smiling one minute, crying the next. To preserve respect of said ex-boyfriend, I won't get into details, but he apparently had WAY too much baggage for our love train. Now, it's all aboard the single train [yet again]. Life can be messy, raw, and unpredictable. Love can be even messier, more raw, and even more unpredictable. What's important is that sometimes, it just isn't your fault. Sometimes, it IS them, not you. Sometimes, they do need to be alone in order to heal their pain. This loss was needed; I realized I was settling for less than what I deserved. I needed him to say "NO" because I wasn't saying it for myself.

I've been exploring my spirituality in different outlets as of lately. I've been exploring God through forms of meditation, Yoga, chakra therapy, worship, and writing. He's met me in every place. I've become more in tune with my body, energy, and healing the very icky parts that need attention, such as standing up for myself, setting healthy boundaries, developing emotional awareness, and building solid interpersonal relationships based on trust, community, and love. Apparently my energy has been blocked in the areas of interpersonal relationships, communication, self-expression, and the freedom to be myself. It's been a very rocky process. I've startled many people by abruptly saying, "No, I just can't be present in this conversation," or simply telling them how I really feel. I'm trying to be as graceful as I can, but often, it just tumbles out of my mouth like word vomit. Yet, I would much rather offer my honest yet raw feedback than silently slip into the back. I realize that while I may be a strong woman, I hate confrontation. I don't like resolving conflict. I hate to admit I am wrong. I hate being weak. These may be faults of mine, but I'm becoming more aware by saying "No" so that I can start healing.

What if we were all more honest with one another instead of holding things in and silently suffer? I guarantee you our relationship and community with one another would be more authentic, real, honest, valuable, and more meaningful.

Does this mean that the next time we talk with another I am going to be the world's biggest jerk, say NO! and hang up the phone or walk away? No, of course not. But, I can say that I will be more present, aware, and in tune with our conversation and offer you honesty, trust, love, and as much compassion as my little heart can offer. If you show me grace, I will return it. I'm a work in progress, but aren't we all?

Standards. Keep them, memorize them, write them on your heart so that you may remind yourself time and time again; "You is smart, you is kind, you is important." 
Say "No" so that others won't have to. 

Secrets of the Skinny Dip Society

If any of you follow me on Instagram, you know that around this time last year, I probably blew up your newsfeed with pictures from a challenge creatively and deceptively titled as the Skinny Dip Society. Many people from back home [America] thought I was actually participating in a challenge where we were literally skinny dipping. If that were a real challenge, trust me, I'd be there too. However, this particular challenge was not a physical challenge, rather it was designed to tap into our souls and awaken our beings into self-awareness, appreciation, and acceptance. Some challenges focused on inner beauty, others challenged us to dig deep and reflect on our goals, dreams, or ambitions.

The creator, Katie Den Ouden, is a charming force of inspiration. She sends out weekly emails to encourage women from all walks of life and backgrounds to come together as a community and sisterhood to lift one another up in encouragement, beauty, and love. [Ya-ya!] Her emails provoke you to think about your life and how you can challenge yourself to become alive, wild, and free. Food for thought, food for the soul.

This year, I've stepped up to her challenge again and will soon be blowing up your newsfeed again [sorry, I'm not sorry]. However, in addition to her simple request of an Instagram to demonstrate you've completed the challenge, I will briefly write about what her challenge means to me. I'll be spilling my secrets. Follow me or join me, if you dare.

SECRETS OF THE SKINNY DIP SOCIETY
Day One: Add Beauty Daily [Buy Yourself a Bouquet of Flowers]

Today's email couldn't have come at a better moment. As I stare out into the neighborhood overcast with clouds, snow, and a mixture of slush and hidden ice, I can't help but wish for spring to awaken the Earth and fill my senses with joy. People automatically assume that because I'm from a northern Midwestern state, I LOVE winter and all activities associated with such season. Sure, snow is romantic; I love the first snow fall as it dreamily cascades onto the cold, hardened ground. Yes, snowboarding, skiing, and ice fishing can be fun. However, when you've faced the hundredth day of winter, you can't help but let out a groan. I don't love winter; I survive it.

Today, I slipped on the ice in our alleyway. As a Minnesotan, I should instinctively know better. I should practice caution wherever I go. The silly thing is, I was being cautious and STILL fell on my ass. In one fell swoop, I was on my back, coffee mug still in hand, but my cell phone in a snow bank. I'll be honest, I let out the loudest "FUCK YOU WINTER" I've ever muttered in my life. I also muttered that I will never, ever let a friend convince me to live in a winter climate again. [Sorry, Stephen, I'm leaving you for warmer weather.]

Today's challenge is to add beauty to your life with a bouquet of flowers. Thank god, because I LOVE flowers. I'm allergic to most, but will gladly bring home any flowers so that I can be reminded of life, growth, and beauty. Katie Den Ouden's message is that beauty awakens the soul. An awakened soul leads to freedom and a life full of love. Amen, sistah.

I used to believe that only men could buy you flowers. After all, it is viewed as one of the most romantic gestures in any chick-flick. When Tom Hanks brings Meg Ryan flowers [daisies] in You've Got Mail, my heart dies. Every. single. time. I'm a romantic and my heart giggles every time a woman is granted a bouquet of flowers. However, I've learned that women don't need men to buy flowers in order to feel beautiful, worthy, or special. We should feel that, regardless. We should buy each other flowers. Man or woman. Just to speak to each other's worthiness and value in life. We are all worth it. Hey, you're neat. Here are some flowers. [Men, you should still buy women flowers.]

I remember a time where my one of my besties was feeling down. A guy had never bought her flowers. It had nothing to do with her. She had just never dated a thoughtful guy before. To speak to her worthiness, I stepped up and surprised her with a bouquet of flowers for no reason other than she was worth it, she deserved it, and she was beautiful to me. [And I was in Korea... so men, there is NEVER an excuse to not send your lady flowers]. Are flowers a requirement to communicate worthiness? Absolutely not, but gosh, it sure makes our sweet hearts melt. And all you feminist friends, don't you dare deny that flowers don't make you smile. That's like saying puppies and kittens aren't cute.

I am worthy. I am beautiful. I am loved. I will celebrate with flowers.
You should do the same. [If not, I will call 1-800-flowers and bombard you with daisies].

Xoxo.

"They're so friendly. Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?"
-Kathleen Kelly - You've Got Mail

Baby, don't cry.

I've reached a roadblock. A mental, emotional, and physical roadblock that is quite larger than I anticipated. I didn't foresee this roadblock. I thought I had a plan. A future. A new beginning; a chance to revamp my career goals, my love life, and my body. Then life happened. Dreams change, people leave, and bodies get hurt.

I sit here as a nanny wondering why I sold myself out for this job. People think I've become a nanny by choice. Uh, no. The economy sucks, education is way too expensive and the debt is not worth it, and my skills in early childhood education have conveniently placed me in this position. I can't even land a pre-school job here because the DHS in Illinois has ridiculous hoops to jump through. At least as a nanny the money is decent, the networking can be helpful, and sometimes travel opportunities are involved. Still, the city of Chicago owns my life in taxes. Where my taxes go is completely unknown to me since the city can barely remove the snow and the public education system stinks. Never thought I would miss snow emergency procedures from Minnesota. [End Ron Swanson rant here].

Most people would say that I am gainfully employed, I have a roof over my head with one of my closest friends, and that I should be extremely grateful; I still can't help but feel frustrated. We all whine. We all complain. We all feel frustrated. It's how we adapt and change that matters.

Today I had a breakdown. First on the bus, then on my walk to work. Life as an ex-expat [is that a word?] has finally caught up to me. The reality of being removed from a position where I had found identity, friends, and purpose has finally settled in. I'm living in a new city where I have to rebuild my network, make new friends, find new opportunities, adapt, change, and repeat. It's a stressful process, kids. It's a psychological mindset we have to retrain our brains. [This same process happens as an expat while living in a foreign country--around the 6 month mark as well].

I finally mustered enough strength to stop my tears as I walked into work where I forced a happy greeting to my little boss, baby H, and began my daily routine. As soon as my grown-up bosses walked out the door, the tears once again welled up in my eyes and fell hard into baby H's breakfast of oatmeal and peaches. Sorry, kid. My shoulders caved in and I just sobbed as to how this was my life. [Pity party of one]. Needless to say, I felt pretty pathetic.

As I forced myself to stop crying in order to prevent baby H from crying with me [he's an empathetic crier], I was moved by one of the most beautiful gestures I've seen in my life. Ross [the giant mountain dog] came up beside me and placed his head in my lap. He barked once to signal his sister who then came on the other side of me and sat by my side. Baby H then let out the most beautiful giggle and smile I had ever seen. Let me tell you, this kid has precious baby blue eyes that will melt any heart. Paired with his smile, he is sure to send you into a baby cuteness coma. His [very limited] communication skills simply told me, 'Baby, don't cry [that's my job].'

This was my life. Love from a baby and two giant Bernese mountain dogs. Sometimes, that's all we need. In my frustration and pain, I found comfort from the least expected. I didn't need magical words of wisdom or the verbal reassurance I usually find from my "people." In that moment, these three [big and small] became what I needed. 

We tend to forget that we are all in this life together. Young and old. Human and animal. The universe simply coexists. From all walks of life, we go through the motions of living together. Whether you believe in a God or great spirit, the stars or the universe, Buddha or even Ganesha, there is a force among us that gently reminds us to show love, compassion, kindness, and generosity among Earth [even beyond]. We need to stop being so shitty and mean to each other and encourage each other in this path of life. Be more present, be less absentminded. Put your phones down when you're out with friends. Forget about the Instagram moments; enjoy the [live] picture before you. Love each other and be kind. This is what life is about.

Enjoy the tiny and big moments in life; you'll never know who or what is rooting for you in your corner.

Lost

Since returning home from spending a year abroad in Korea, I have never felt more lost in my path of life than ever. I haven’t felt this lost since the day I graduated high school. Sure, I knew I had things to look forward to post graduation such as my first international trip abroad to Kenya and college in the fall; new friends, new experiences, and new learning opportunities.  These exciting things on my agenda shouldn’t have brought a feeling of hopelessness or doubts in my autonomy but it did [or should it have, according to the ways we psychologically develop through life?]. I digress. I'm back at that point. Who am I? Where am I going? What is life? 

The long-winded point is that I am once again stuck at a crossroad. Many [normally developing] people will have one or two crossroads before them, but my [abnormal] crossroad looks like a pot of spaghetti. SO MANY DREAMS, HOW DO I CHOOSE JUST ONE?! I am a dreamer, folks. 

I once used to think I possessed this uncanny ability to logically and realistically think about the world [even though I was horrible at math in high school] and make concrete decisions about my life. However, as I progress further towards adulthood, I’m somewhat alarmed by my decreased function in making decisions quickly or concretely. Instead, I will battle a decision and over-analyze every outcome until I’ve made my choice. Or, I will merely run away towards a new goal. I know, very mature, but this is what I am constantly faced with: indecision and running. Regardless, I feel frustrated. Stuck. Lost. Clueless. I have so many dreams in my head; I just can’t seem to pick the “one,” for me and begin a path towards mental, emotional, or social enlightenment per se. I can barely date a guy, y’all, let alone pick my own future.

I am faced with the ever-frightening illusion [thanks social-media] that my peers and tomorrow’s youth have their cookie-cutter lives “figured out”; they are ready to put their dreams into the oven and wait for their tasty magical future to bring ultimate satisfaction. You are probably thinking, “Oh shut UP, already. You are merely going on 29, you have your entire life to figure out.” I will allow you to mock my [hopefully normal] fears, however, your mockery or even reassurance that I’m not crazy will not stop the thoughts from exploding in my head.  It’s an ever-losing battle I face. Mind-blown.

My lack of content long-term does not mean I can’t find joy in the temporary journey. Sure, I may not have a “grown-up,” career like many of you sitting at your desks right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find goodness or fulfillment in what I’m doing at the moment. I just simply struggle with the future, or “commitment” if you will humor me, and cannot push back the thoughts of, “Is this what I really want to do for the rest of my life?? Are you sure you want to be a nanny? Are you sure you want to be a photographer full-time? Are you sure you want to teach English abroad? Are you sure you don’t want to go back to school and rewrite your future? Perhaps try your hand at business? Management? 

Math?"

(Ha! FOOLED YOU, I hate math).  Or, I could just go back to my original 5 yr. old self and be a whale-trainer. No way, I saw that documentary. My odds are better as a ballerina.

The constant question that ever rumbles [ SO loudly] in my head, “ARE YOU SURE?!” My thoughts often resemble a very needy and overly attached significant other. We’ve all been there… "HI. HOW ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL? WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WHY? TAKE ME WITH YOU? OMG, WHAT’S WRONG?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T LOVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!!!!" [Enter incessant whining here]

You know exactly what I’m talking about [looking at you ladies, too]. That’s my brain. It’s very similar to the old-school anti-drug commercial they used to filtrate our brains with in school. The one where they crack an egg into a pan and try to scare you that your brain changes when it’s on drugs; “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs…. Sizzle…….” 

Except, this is your brain.... this is your brain with no life path or determined future.....sizzle. Or better yet, WITH BACON. 

Ladies and gentleman, enough digression from the fact: I will be jobless once again in June and I don’t know what to do next. I thought I “had” my life figured out post-Korea: move to Chicago with Korea friend. Get job. Go to mountain school [NOLS]. Find a career leading expeditions and travel the world for the rest of my life. Live happily ever after. Beautiful!

Well, hate to say 2 months into my plan, but I’ve already hit a roadblock. My body has decided other plans for me by throwing itself into a state of ailments. Ailments: 1) my kidneys and 2) my knees. While I could go on and bore you to death with the details, I won’t because a)it’s still personal and b)I’m still coping. The problem is that my body is not 100% at its best that it needs to be to go traipsing around the wilderness for the summer, let alone make a career out of it [right now].  Mentally turns 29, physically turns 72.

Back-up plan! I’m good with those or at least thinking on my feet in a time of need. For now, the back-up plan is to continue my nanny endeavors [even though my contract ends in June]  until I figure my life out. That’s it. That’s all I got. My experience is in working with children. Those little buggers, they’ve sucked all my energy and will continue to do so for the time being. Besides, I know my plans will change tomorrow [they always do.] Perhaps that’s my future: I’ll be the weird, quirky girl always traveling, always trying her hand at a new career path, always learning, always growing, always changing.

There is beauty in every adventure; big or small, successful or failed, today or tomorrow, lost or found. Sometimes, you just have to appreciate the journey along the way and look back and laugh at your silly thoughts. At least I know will.

Bali: Day 6

I finally made it to Bali's infamous Gunung Batur. And boy, was she a beauty in all her volcanic glory. 

However, words cannot tell you the fear that rattled my heart as I had to (once again) climb the ever-winding mountain roads with my Honda Scoopy. I have never been so emotionally/mentally wrecked before in my life. Who knew a solo crash on your motorbike could have such an effect on the mind? Normally I have the resilience of a bear, but every little bump, hole, rock, and uneven patch of road seemed to blatantly jump out at me.

I frustrated every driver behind me [and myself]. 

You see, I hate being perceived as weak. I've been raised to be a strong woman with fierce independence and a fiery determination that would make Mike Tyson look like a flower. I'm that girl. The girl who lets no one in; in fear that I will get hurt. 

You can imagine my frustration when I suddenly had to rely on the dependence of others to help nurse me back to health. 

My host parents in Kintamani were nothing but wonderful. Having grown children of their own, they understood and knew how to care for me. It nearly damn broke my heart because here I was: a stranger, thousands of miles away from home, but it didn't matter to them. To them, I was their own, not a stranger, and they didn't mind caring for me. To them, it brought joy because they missed caring for someone.  Heart swell. 

Hospitality is a lost, beautiful art. 

My days in Kintamani brought beautiful adventure [as much as my ankle would allow]. Hiked some peaks, saw a wicked sunrise, and reflected greatly in my sanctuary among the mountains and trees.

I rested....a lot. Thankfully, I had this gem: Between A Rock and A Hard Place, or as you know by film, 127 Hours by Aron Ralston. Talk about a hard read...if you ever think you're in despair or suffering, think to yourself about being stranded for 120 hours in the desert and faced with the reality of cutting your limb off. 

Yeah, it put me into check.

Next stop: Ubud! The land of spiritual awakening. 

Homestay: Hotel Miranda- off the main road through Kintamani. 

Contact: Made Sentra 

Price: 100,000Rp

Tip: Ask Made to guide you to Gunung Batur--he has a map, and can give you the best routes to climb. If you are traveling alone, he will even offer to go with you. Pack a sweater, it's cold!!

Oh, and be prepared to buy some art from his friend, Peter. The guy is an excellent salesman [and talented artist].

Bali: Day 5

All things happen for a reason. 

[Good and bad] I know, cliche. 

Yet, I have never believed things happen in my life because of universal law or principal or probability. Accidents do happen, but there is something to be learned from every experience. It's the way I cope.

It was a beautiful morning. I had just finished coffee and some oatmeal while Gunung Lesong stood in the distance from my balcony view. I packed my bag and set out for the open road. Time to leave one mountain village for another. 

However, my trip would prove to be a difficult challenge as there is no banjar (major road) that easily connects Danur Bratan to Gunung Batur. Only teeny tiny farm roads and long spiraling roads plummeting to sea level. Oh boy.

The drive started out well as I headed to my one of my dream locations: Pura Ulun Danu Bratan. This temple inspired my trip to Bali as the temple majestically towers above the water amid a mountainous backdrop. The temple is completely surrounded by water and locals visit the island to bring offering so that water remains plentiful for farmers. 

There she stands; beautiful as ever, a goddess to the waters. 

The mountains peek from behind the temple gates. 

The visit was surreal and breathtaking all at once. Even though the park was beginning to fill with tourists from afar, there was a heavy peace still lingering in the air from the morning ceremony. A few foreigners asked me to take a picture with them which I found strange at first and I hesitated, but then they reassured me it was because I was a beautiful American girl. [gush] 'Okay! Oh you have a selfie stick too? Even better.' I retorted to myself with a tinge of snark.

Companionship comes in the strangest forms...but I'll take it.

Back to the open road! After dodging a few sneaky police men hiding under the banyan tree outside the park, I was soon on my way to the 'road never travelled.' [Lonely planet: Bali & Lombok, pg. 249]

This supposed 'road' is rather a series of smaller roads that connect the two central mountain regions. The reason it's rarely traveled? Because a) you will either plummet to your death or crash if not careful on the turns or b) it's a pain in the butt to descend, turn, brake, descend, turn, brake...repeat for 6km. 

Not to mention, you leave the nice, smooth paved roads in turn for gravel. Lots of gravel. 

I made it out of the hills alive. In fact, I became a pro at turning, bobbing and weaving through the rice fields. The scenery was absolutely gorgeous and it made me forget I had a destination. Village after village, the farms outstretched for kilometers beyond the horizon. 

I was driving carefully along a small road on a straight path. Grateful that I was finally finished turning and braking, I thought I had a smooth ride ahead of myself until I saw a construction site in front of the temple directly ahead. 

Do you ever have those moments where the worst case scenario plays out before you only milliseconds before it actually does happen?

My worst case scenario: hitting a patch of loose gravel at the right spot, causing my front wheel to slip and turn, fish tailing my scooter up and over the additional speed bump while I fly overhead and crash...hard onto a gravel road. 

That is exactly what happened after it flashed in my mind. Breathe, you're gonna crash, but you will be okay. My inner voice whispered quietly. "Wait, what?!" I screamed aloud.

[Cue crash + tons of wailing]

As I lay pinned beneath my motorbike, tears began pouring immediately as the pain and adrenaline rushed through every vein and nerve in my body. My mind screamed to my legs to move but I couldn't because I was trapped in a weird place where my ankle was twisted under the wheel. 

Cars passed. To my left. To my right. People even honked. I watched cars of foreigners drive right past me. I'm not even joking. Where is the allegiance? Where is the humanity? What is wrong with you people? 

I sobbed. I wept. I screamed curse words to the sky. Finally, two beautiful Balinese women appeared overhead and, with pure hearts, they rushed to my aid. One lifted the motorbike off my legs and the other helped me to my feet. 

"Oh my word," one gasped as she brought her hand to her mouth as the other held my arm. Blood gushed from my elbow, knees, and ankle. Great. I hobbled to my pack and took out my trusty first aid kid that I happened to restock before the trip. Iodine, check. Bandages, check. Medical tape, check. IB profeun, check. Thank God. 

Graphic, I know. My apologies if you throw up. I nearly did. 

My newfound rescuers cleaned and bandaged my wounds with the utmost gentle and loving care. My mom (a nurse) would have been proud of the way they cared after me. One girl checked my bike over to make sure no fluids were leaking, that I had air in my tires, and they helped me start the engine again. They gave me a pair of gloves to keep the bandages on my hands while I drove. The kindness in their eyes, hearts, and actions turned about my faith in humanity. Grace restored.

They wished me safe travels and before I could respond, they were off in the distance. 

Everything happens for a reason. 

After gathering what little courage I had left, I roared the engine and puttered the rest of the road to Pelaga, another small village known for coffee and cinnamon. 

The town smelled incredible. I felt as though I was sitting in my grandmother's kitchen, watching her effortlessly bake her infamous Snickerdoodle cookies. My mouth watered at the scent [cinnamon being my favorite spice] and hunger rumbled in my belly. Feeling the stress from the accident, I decided it was a good idea to pull over and find lunch of some sort. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a sign that read: Bali EcoVillage. Curiosity settled in quickly and I pulled over to park my bike next to the village temple. Looking down at the path before me, I cringed as pain trickled from ankle upward. Hoping the walk would be good for me, I set out for the village [and telling the pain to shove it]. 

2km and several cows later, I came upon a beautiful looking resort with Balinese huts standing amidst a lush green forest. Worth every pain-staking step. 

I hobbled inside one of the larger open air huts to find a gorgeous interior: strong wooden tables and chairs, natural hardwood floors, comfortable cushions, and white flowy curtains hung from the windows. A perfect Bali setting for relaxation, rejuvenation, and restoration of mind, body, and soul. [Or so it read on the chalkboard]

Quickly shown to a table adjoined to a beautiful couple, the staff person asked me what I'd like for lunch. The young couple piped with a German accent, "Zhou have to go for ze ravioli...it's simply vonderful." I nodded to their suggestion and motioned to the young woman that the ravioli was indeed what I wanted. 

Conversation soon ensued with the German couple. "Vhere are zou from?" asked the gentle woman. I studied her features and relaxed composition. I could tell she was a Yogi. 

"I am from America, but I've spent the last year in Korea as an English teacher. I'm on a mini-retirement until I go home to Minnesota." I gave my usual spiel as it was the 20th time I've been asked since arriving in Bali.

The kind man spoke up, "Ahhh! Korea! Ve alvays vanted to visit there. Vhat do you think of it?" 

"It's wonderful. The people, the food, and the mountains are incredible. The children...well, you learn to love them." I laughed gently as it was true for me during my first semester of teaching. The couple laughed and smiled in return. I asked them about their life story, and this is what I got in return: they quit their high-paying corporate jobs, sold all of their possessions, packed their life into two backpacks [total], and committed to a life of zen and spiritual awareness as Yogis. They've taught Yoga in over 20 different locations, including exotic locations such as Bali, Thailand, Australia, and Malaysia. They were contracted to teach Yoga at the EcoVillage for six weeks, then they would move to southern Bali again. 

My eyes widened and glistened as their too-good-to-be-true life enlightened my heart. I've always wanted to find the courage where I could just pack up my life and set out for my dreams. Their story gave me hope and a gentle nudge toward chasing my dreams. 

Their names? Luis & Luna. Perfect Yogi names. I smiled physically and internally.

Our conversation was briefly interrupted by this wonderful artwork on a plate: Spinach ravioli with fresh organic tomatoes and soft, tasty garlic bread. Heaven on a plate. 

After wolfing down my lunch, Luis and Luna agreed to re-bandage my motorbike wounds. Their first-aid kit made mine look humble in comparison, but it didn't matter as they generously offered some larger bandages and iodine to finish my trip. Heart swell. Tears formed in my eyes and I graciously thanked them for showing such compassion. 

"Give out into the world as what you will someday want to be returned onto you." Luis gently spoke as he wrapped my ankle. My heart would forever be touched by this couple; their love for life, their positive energy, their smile, their genuine love for each other and humanity. Good things can come from bad circumstances. This was my reason. 

"Live for the little things because they will make you realize that this is what life is about; this is what it means to be alive.

Take the road less travelled; to see not with your eyes, but your heart."

-a note that resonated with me found in the guest book.

Namaste.

Bali: Day 3 & 4

After a wonderful breakfast from Ayu, I was determined to make it to my next  destination: Munduk Village--off the side of Danur (Lake) Bratan. I had another home stay arranged within the village and I was excited to see the coffee plantations. En route to the central mountains was Jatuliwah--an area home to many gorgeous rice fields. With my love for all things farm-like and agricultural, my soul was okay with stopping along the way.

However, due to heavy traffic in Tabanan and en route to Jatuliwah, I lost a considerable amount of time. Also, there was a weird funeral procession happening and traffic was backed up even more. Thankfully the police didn't catch sight of me, and I scooted by unscathed. 

I didn't arrive to the rice fields until 5pm. Well, in Bali, the sun disappears quite quickly (and majestically) and I had maybe only 1-1.5 hours of good driving light left. It didn't help that in order to get back to the main road, I had to double back on my route. Using whatever gut instinct and better judgement I had left, I decided it was a better decision for me to stay near Jatuliwah and head out early in the morning. 

Lucky for me, the hotel owners gave me a great deal on one of their villas. Normally the villas cost 500,000Rp per night, but they were willing to give me one for 200,000Rp. Score! Not to mention, I had a fantastic view overlooking the rice fields, my own personal porch, and a hot water heater to make Balinese coffee and tea to my hearts content. 

There are times in traveling where your heart, mind, and body must be flexible and open to change. If teaching English in Korea has taught me anything, it is to not fight the challenge; rather ebb and flow with whatever comes your way...you will get there eventually. Thankfully, the owner called my next homestay and explained my situation in Bahasa so that I wouldn't face any extra charges or cancellation fees. My heart swelled with happiness. Hospitality at its finest.

Terima Kasih (thank you) for bringing adventure and plentiful rest. Until next time. Selamat Jalan.

Homestay: Jatuliwah 259 (on right hand side if driving to overlook) 

Normal cost of villas: 500,000RP

Tip: Jatuliwah is a strangely oriented town. If driving motorbike, remember you will have to turn around once you are done touring the rice fields. There is no continued path past the village. If you hire a driver, then sing ken ken! (No worries)

Day 4 proved to be an excellent day of traveling. I found my way to Bedugl by sheer luck as there was a weird 4-way intersection outside of Jatuliwah and I wasn't 100% sure whether I should turn or not. Trusting my instinct, I proceeded straight and took a left at the second stop because it pointed North. Sense of direction, redeemed! 

I made a pit stop at a restaurant overlooking the mountains and my heart became giddy at all the hiking I had to look forward to in Munduk. 

These are Gunung Batakur and Sangiyang, which are actually near Jatuliwah. I had just come from these earlier, but the view was still spectacular! The farms below are actually strawberry fields! Bedugl is known for its famous Bali strawberries! I wish I were brave enough to stop and try them, but with my luck, I would get the ever dreaded "Bali Belly." 

As I continued my path into the mountains, I noticed some strange creatures lurking on the side of the road. As I squinted, I thought to myself, 'Those CAN'T be monkeys!' My heart sank.

I hate monkeys. I've hated monkeys ever since I visited Kyoto, Japan. The little buggers tried running off my with my camera and would not stop pestering me. So, you can imagine my horror when I felt something drop onto my pack while driving. 

"Son of -----! There's a monkey on my bike!" I screamed aloud to myself. I kept my bike straight to avoid an accident but quickly pulled to the side in order to shoo the creature from my pack. I suddenly remembered that Ayu (my host mom from earlier) had given me bananas and other fresh fruit as a roadtrip treat. The smart bugger could smell my fruit from the trees above as I passed. 

I reached for an orange out of my pack, which was actually a risky move as the Simian and his friends all perched and cocked their heads to the side in anticipation of their newfound treasure. Holding the orange out in front of the 'monkey on my back,' [literally] I coaxed him off of me and onto the pavement. With one fell swoop, I quickly chucked it down the road like a bowling ball. The monkey and his friends chased after it like kids running after an ice cream truck.

 

I quickly got back onto my bike and drove as fast as my little 125cc Honda could putter up the road. 

Lesson learned: don't keep fruit on your person. 

The rest of the drive was uneventful as I continued throughout the mountains and stopped for some obligatory roadside selfies. 

 

I finally made it to Munuk by 11am. After apologizing profusely to Budi, my new homestay host, for arriving a day late; I was taken aback when he upgraded my room to a private balcony with a mountain view. Score, again! He promptly showed me to my room and it was phenomenal. 

A bed that made me feel like a princess with the the canopy [err, mosquito net]. 

 Perfect place for coffee and brekkie! 

I could see every rice field, coffee plantation, and house for miles. 

I quickly settled into my room and changed for some hiking. I still had the day ahead of me and I wanted to get a head start before sunset. I hiked Gunung Lesong, and on the way I found a waterfall! 

Two hours later, I made it to the top! Had to take a selfie in relation to where I started. You can't really tell, but I'm pointing the village down below. Gunung Lesong is 1860 meters high. Fairly easy hike with great trails! 

After my hike, I stopped by an ecovillage and toured a Luwak coffee coop, where they make coffee out of cat poop! Yummy! The coffee was actually smooth and delicious! The founder, Nyoman Budi, informed me on the ecovillage initiative and how it is operated by 18 volunteers ranging from engineers to doctors to warung owners. Since the profits from their coffee go back into the initiative itself, I had to stock up on coffee! 

After my hike, I was fairly exhausted and starving. My homestay didn't really have a warung attached, so I stopped for some Kare Ayam at One Homestay en route to my own lodging. Best decision ever! Delightfully spiced and seasoned to perfection! Not as thick as other curry sauces, but I loved how fresh the veggies tasted! Definitely not soggy like Korean curry! (Sorry, lunch lady!) The rice is also local and organic! 

All in all, a successful two days in Bali! 

Lodging: Nu Homestay

Jl. Raya Pansacari

Turn left at the traditional Munduk market (two-three stalls long)

Contact: Budi

Tip: Make sure to ask your homestay for a map of the village and point out the rice fields and plantations you can tour.