Bali: The Preamble

Lucky girl that I am, I’m going to Bali for a holiday.

To prepare for this adventure, I did what any reasonable (and extremely cliché) woman would do and decided to re-read Eat Pray Love in preparation. In case you don’t know the book (or the movie of the same name, starring Julia Roberts), it’s the real story of writer Elizabeth Gilbert who, at the age of 34 found herself in a marriage she didn't want to be in anymore, followed by another relationship that wouldn't work, and a struggle with depression that she couldn't shake. According to the back cover of the book, she “set out to examine three different aspects of her nature, set against the backdrop of three different cultures: pleasure in Italy, devotion in India, and on the Indonesian island of Bali, a balance between worldly enjoyment and divine transcendence.”

I read the book for the first time a few years ago, back when it was on the New York Times Best sellers list, and decided that it was one of the few books that I thought I should read again someday (Emergency Sex and Other Desperate Measures is one of the others). When the movie came out when I lived in Sydney, I remember going to see it with a group of friends. After it was over, the reviews were mixed: it was ok but Italy was basically food porn, the book was better (they almost always are)/the emotional and spiritual aspect of the book just didn’t translate, she came across as super self-absorbed/shallow/too emotional (not in the good way).

I said very little: I had sobbed through most of the film.

I recall trying to understand what it was about the movie, about her journey that resonated so strongly with me at the time. Broadly speaking, I suppose the idea of searching for fulfillment, wanting purpose and happiness and moving from place to place trying to seek it, throws up some mirrors that I couldn't avert my eyes from. Her relationships were always a mess (too). She really, really likes pizza (too).

There’s also a really good chance that my overly emotional reaction had something to do with whatever super douchebaggy thing my current boyfriend had done. I couldn't for the life of me tell you anymore what it might have been, but I could list off a pretty decent list of things to choose from.

(If I had been writing my blog when I lived in Sydney, his nickname could have been “Surprise!-I’m-a-married-abusive-alcoholic-with-a-kid-and-I’m-going-to-lie-to-you-about-it-emphatically-until-I-come-home-drunk-and-you-think-I-must-have-had-a-brain-aneurysm. Oh-and-I-might-be-bi,-or-at least-can-pretend-to-maybe-be-if-it-means-guys-will-pay-for-my-drinks-because-I-can’t-afford-my-own-drinking-habit-but-will-spend-money-to-gamble-cause-wouldn't-it-be-great-if-I-hit-it-big?!”, but I wasn't writing my blog back then and it’s probably for the best because that would have been a bitch to write out over and over again.)

The only thing I will never forgive the movie for is omitting my favourite part, where Richard from Texas yells, “She’s fucking with you Groceries!”. I was looking forward to that about as much as I had been looking forward to the Baby T-Rex by the river scene in Jurassic Park, which also failed to make it to the big screen and for which the film will always be slightly lacking.

Still, as I said, I’m in the midst of re-reading the book, and by way of comparison, I think it’s prudent to point out that although I haven’t been diagnosed with any mental health problems, I spend way too much time in my own head, last week I ate Indian food with my Italian housemate, and now I’m in Bali.

It’s like I’m living her frickin’ life. (Almost.)

And its as if I've almost conveniently overlooked the love stuff huh? Well, as you all know I am in the market for an awesome someone to be a part of my life. You know, romantically.

Until recently, I was actually getting fired up to introduce someone new to you. I was hoping to announce that my last trip to Brisbane was a success! Finally!

And it was, until it wasn't.

On our first date, we sat on a bench by the river in the botanical gardens after dinner and watched the lights, chatting, getting used to actually getting to sit beside each other after so many weeks of chatting online. We decided on the nickname I could give him if I were to write about him on this blog, which we expected would happen because we had already agreed that if we got along (which we clearly were) he would join me for a few days in Bali before my friend Nisha would arrive.

He liked to hold hands (and I liked that he liked to hold hands).

At one point, I was sitting beside him in his car, and he moved his hand off mine to do something or other to keep us safely on the road. I recall noticing in that moment that my hand all of a sudden felt chilly, and thinking how interesting it is that my hand, had it not been held, would have been fine. Comfortable. But by the simple act of holding it and then letting go, all of a sudden it was like something was “off”. Something was missing.

Now, not that I want to get all barfy and pathetic and contemplative about it, but I would think about this very moment when I got on the plane for this trip. Normally when I get on a plane, take my window seat and discover that there is no one assigned to the middle spot, I send a little ‘thank you’ up to the universe and dance a mental happy dance while I stretch out a little and claim some of the communal real estate that exists between me and whomever is in the aisle. But this time, I couldn't help but notice that the unoccupied seat beside me felt empty, and no cause for celebration, in a way that would never have been noticeable before. The seat was theoretically 'empty' well before I actually claimed seat 19A, but actually seeing it there and feeling how roomy my flight would be, sucked a little. Well, a lot. 

I'd really like someone to crowd me. On planes and in life generally. At least a little. I mean the leg room was great but well, ugh, you know what I mean.

Back to the drawing board.

(And I'm  kinda pissed that my trip is now a  little tarnished).

So, that’s my intro to Bali. I’m going to continue re-reading the book (though now in the privacy of my room because I think it’s cliché enough to be too embarrassing to read it by the pool now that I’m actually here), and should be back with holiday updates soon if you’re interested.

I may be trying to eat less, will probably never be the type to pray and must have sucker punched Love’s mom in another life, but it could be way worse… I can still tell you about my holiday and can still dazzle you with the amazing men that contact me online. Like this guy:

Like I said, I’m such a lucky girl.

Bring on the holiday!