March 2024

I’ve started and erased this post more times than I can count. Each time I revisit it, there’s a new or different story to tell. Maybe that just means I should post more frequently.

Truth be told, I haven’t felt particularly inspired to write. But my long, long trek back to the western side of the world begins tomorrow, so I’ve given myself the goal of publishing something before I leave Bali. Nothing lights a fire under you like a deadline, even if it’s self-imposed.

Where to start? How about where I left off…. Which was, I believe, in Montreal, blathering on about milestones. Somewhere in there I shared that I needed to return to Indonesia to initiate the process of transferring my land to its new owners, and that’s where I’ve been ever since.

I hadn’t been back to my little island of Gili Air since 2018, just after the area had suffered a series of devastating earthquakes, and before the global pandemic. I wasn’t sure what I would find or how I would feel when I got there. For years I’d sensed my once very special bond with the place weakening; would seeing it again after such a long absence renew the spark?

Turns out too much has changed in the 15 years since I first discovered it; too much water has passed under the bridge. I’m a stranger there now, like any other tourist, with only the occasional OG local remembering me. Seems 15 years is a long time.

While it is still a quiet, laid-back paradise in many ways, it is no longer the same one I fell in love with, and my connection with it feels broken. It’s like we don’t get each other anymore. Somewhat like in an amicable divorce, I imagine, we’ve grown apart and it’s simply time to go our separate ways. No hard feelings. In the end, it’s a good time to sell the land.

Ahhh, if only it were that simple. Indonesian hocus-pocus is in full force, as I had largely expected but fervently hoped against. I won’t bore you with the gore of the details but suffice it to say, the dark arts that have been known to frequently plague foreign landowners in this country didn’t pass me over. All I can do now is wait and hope that they move on from me eventually.  

I stuck around on the island too long. Perhaps I was hoping something might move forward with the land sale, but I think mostly I was just tired. I’ve been living out of a suitcase for more than a year and a half now, which I must say feels pretty long. I crave opportunities to just stop for a while and unpack and be, and Gili is an easy place to do that.

One of my favourite quotes is by novelist Paulo Coelho: “If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine; it is lethal.” At this point in my life, I feel I can confidently say it has not been short on adventure (snarfled land sale one of the more recent examples), and I enjoyed having something of a routine again: Walk the 5 1/2-km perimeter of the island every morning. Hit the gym. Swim in the pool at my bungalow. Take an afternoon nap. Read a novel. Maybe do a little snorkelling. Eat fried rice. Go to bed early. Repeat.

But one can only do that for so long, so one 3-hour, stomach-churning “fast boat” ride later, I was in Bali.

I spent a few days hanging out on the east coast in Candidasa, where I got to explore some places off the beaten track courtesy of a lovely tour guide I’d met. Along steep and narrow tracks, we doubled on his little scooter to secret waterfalls, remote rice paddies, and his own busy beehives, and for the first time ever I bravely sampled the “king of fruits”, the durian (awful.) I also made a new friend in Candidasa who, small world that it is, lives in Whitehorse of all places—which just happens to be where I’m headed next. More on that in a bit.

From there I moved on to the tranquil, hilly village of Sidemen (pronounced SEE-da-men), which stole my heart and my breath the same way Gili Air did when I first stumbled onto its beaches all those years ago. It feels like Bali’s rampant tourism has partially overlooked this place, with unspoiled nature and terraced rice fields as far as the eye can see (though I sense not for much longer, sadly). I gorged myself on shades of green, and left too soon.

Next was the upscale-feeling beachside community of Sanur, which grew on me a little more every day. While I was sad to leave the greens of Sidemen behind, I was happy to be in a place where I could resume the sunrise beach walks I’ve been missing so much from my beloved Puerto Morelos, Mexico. By chance I also got to meet up again with Helene, my new friend from Candidasa/Whitehorse. As we raised our glasses on my last night there we giggled, realizing the next time we’d be having a drink together it would be on the other side of the world.  

Last stop: Ubud, the “cultural heart” of Bali. You have to look a little harder to find that heart now, as it’s been buried under chain stores, fusion restaurants, and hordes of tourists and young influencers all wrangling to create exotic-looking content to satisfy their social media followers. Maybe it’s an age thing, but it’s too busy and chaotic here for me now. I haven’t strayed much from my lovely, peaceful accommodations, which are tucked back on a quiet laneway and directly overlook a rice field, reminding me of my days in Sidemen.

Tomorrow I’m off to Singapore for a quick but pricey overnight, followed by a not at all quick 15-hour nonstop flight to San Francisco. I admit I don’t do so well with these long-hauls anymore (that age thing again?) Then it’s a quickish hop to Vancouver, then Whitehorse, and finally Carcross, where I’ll bundle up and hang out with my good buddy Marsha for a while before heading down to La Ventana in Baja California Sur, Mexico, at the end of April to begin a 6-month house sit.

There’s a ton more I want to share with you, but my luggage won’t pack itself (how sweet would that be?), my 5am alarm will come quickly, and so has this deadline of mine.

Catch you on the other side.