A weird thing. As soon as I started to think about going to Ubud I contracted Bali belly. I got the runs without eating any unwashed mangosteens on the sewerage ripened streets of Kuta… I’ve just been in Melbourne in my bedroom reading mostly but somehow my big thinking ended up in my spastic colon. Here’s the process step by step:
Went to yoga. Paid my money and sighed, ‘Been looking forward to this all day.’ The yogini looked up and asked me what kind of work I do. I said shiatsu, her eyes lit up and she started giving me a potted history of Chinese medicine in Melbourne. She studied under Professor Wong which is kinda a big deal. She mentioned that she spent three years living in Bali.
At the end of class laying in Savasana (corpse pose) I had this uncontrollable urge to go to Ubud to look at a bamboo bridge. And for the first time it really occurred to me that I was going to travel.
Next day at work behind a coffee machine and my boss started having a conversation with two take away longblacks about Indonesia. She mentioned that she had spent time in Ubud. I hit her up with a lot of questions and decided that I would go to Ubud by myself for a week. Ubud isn’t near any surf but there is something drawing me to it regardless. Day after that I was in an op shop when my guts started spasming and I knew that I had to go home fast. It was a bit urgent but I stopped to look at the books and bought a copy of Lonely Planet Indonesia. That afternoon at the shiatsu clinic Graham showed up and told me he had been checking out a website for a surf camp in Sumatra. He mentioned that he was in a rut and we planned to make a documentary called Graham’s Life Is Shit about how he discovers joy getting some glass in a tropical paradise. Now I am going to Sumatra. And at some point Ubud. I am quite dehydrated.