Life separates us from our friends many times. It even hinders us to think about them too often. But they are here, although we do not know where exactly. We do not hear about them, almost do not think about them, but they are so faithful! When our paths cross, they grab our shoulders and shake our hand with sparkle in their eyes. (Wind, Sand and Stars 1939)

It is getting harder and harder to say goodbye, even though we never really part. My island is waiting to be found and conquered. Seven years ago I saw tiny little tropical islands from above for the first time on my flight from Indonesia to Vietnam. At that time I felt that is part of my vortex and I can’t just let it go. I’m back again and first few days I spent, as it feels like only right thing to do, on a little island Southeast of Bali. When you’re about to take holiday while in Bali, go to Nusa Penida.

When I post few photos of white sand beach, fresh coconut and bunch of other fruits along with Buddha still doesn’t mean I’m align with myself, do minimum an hour of yoga daily followed by an hour of meditation. I’m also not vegan, although I eat a lot of fruits and veggies, as this is the food that gives me the best feeling. But let’s not forget Bali has delicious roasted piglet to offer. Social network appearance is one thing, reality another one. That I’m align with myself it is mostly result of getting older, not an outcome of Buddhism, Hinduism or something similar. I’m not walking around with a shine and at every panic attack really do practice yoga. I open You Tube and do clumsy moves on the mat enjoying hearing my bones cracking. I swear over carbohydrate I have ever consumed and had accumulated in that nasty ring in the lower part of the belly. Without that many poses would be easier I guess. At moments like that I start meditating, taking the deepest breaths in and letting it all out until I get dizzy. Now – saying  I can show a bit of self respect towards myself without vertigo.

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White sand beaches. Sanur, Bali, half an hour of speed boat and there you are on the island which is like Bali was many years ago. Supposedly. That sandy morning the old lady sat down by our tent, spoke poor Indonesian and did a lot of questioning and explaining. Every now and then she spit into the sand and continued conversation. The island is small, it only has 70 families living on it, meanwhile neighboring Nusa Lembongan has 200 of them. Prices of the land are getting higher and years ago you could get a hectare for 40 million Indonesian Rupiah, but today you should spend 100 or more.

When you arrive to the island you can rent a motorbike from the guy who is following you until you do so. Remark of getting a helmet, which saves the life, not the fear of police is being answered with a smile in a sense of another white girl is complicating her own life: “We really don’t have police here!” So I ended up with the sunburn of my scalp, painful ass, back and the bottle of the whiskey above the cliffs. My ass was destroyed by bumpy non asphalt roads and my back by two romantic nights in the tent. Whiskey was there to get through all of misunderstandings via WhatsApp for the past half a year with my love. Still. Western brains, eastern hot head, it is indeed not easy to be in a mix relationship. Plus a liter of coconut water and all I have is now.

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Life is all about fishing. The lonely fisherman above the cliff said to us he sometimes waits for hours and doesn’t catch anything. But when he does, he gets 15 kilograms heavy fish and that’s enough for a while.

Polo

Nusa Penida: življenje je ena taka ribičija

Življenje nas pogosto loči od tovarišev, nas celo ovira, da bi pogosto mislili nanje. Vendar so tu, pa čeprav ne vemo točno kje. Nič ne slišimo o njih in skoraj ne mislimo nanje, pa so vendarle tako zvesti! Kadar pa se naše poti križajo, nas zgrabijo za rame in nam stisnejo roko s sijočimi očmi. (Veter, pesek in zvezde 1939)

Vedno težje si rečemo zbogom, čeprav se pravzaprav nikoli zares ne razidemo. Moj otok čaka, da ga odkrijem in zavzamem. Pred sedmimi leti sem prvič uzrla mini tropske otočke od zgoraj na letu iz Indonezije v Vietnam. Takrat sem začutila, da je to del mojega vrtinca in česa tako močnega ne morem izpustiti. Spet sem tukaj in prvih nekaj dni sem preživela, kot se spodobi in je pravično, na majhnem otočku, jugovzhodno od Balija. Ko torej želiš počitnice kadar si na Baliju, greš na otok Nusa Penida.

Ko objavim nekaj fotk peščenih plaž, svežega kokosa in goro ostalega sadja, vmes še kako Budo, to še zdaleč ne pomeni, da sem zdaj pa pomirjena sama s sabo, naredim vsaj uro joge dnevno in dodatno uro meditacije. Tudi veganka nisem, čeprav se po rastlinsko-sadni prehrani počutim najboljše in je zadnje čase tudi največ pojem. A ne pozabimo, da ima Bali najboljšega odojka daleč naokoli. Podoba na socialnih omrežjih je nekaj, realnost pa drugo. To, da sem pomirjena sama s sabo, pripisujem precej starosti in ne budizmu, hinduizmu ali čemurkoli podobnemu. Še zdaleč pa naokoli ne hodim s sijom in se ob vseh napadih panike zares zatečem k jogi, prižgem You Tube in se nerodno kobacam po blazini in uživam, ko slišim pokanje kosti. Preklinjam vse ogljikove hidrate, ki so se nabrali v majhnem obročku v spodnjem delu trebuha, brez katerega bi bila marsikatera poza morda malo lažja. Nič ne de, ob takih trenutkih pričnem z meditacijo nekaj zares globokih vdihov in izdihov, dokler se mi pošteno ne zavrti in si mislim, da si lahko izkažem malo samospoštovanja tudi brez vrtoglavice.

Peščene plaže, torej. Sanur, Bali, hitri čoln, slabe pol ure in si na otoku, kakršen je bil Bali nekoč. Baje. Ostarela teta je nekega peščenega jutra prisedla k najinem šotoru in v zelo slabi indonezijščini spraševala in pojasnjevala. Čakala je sina, da se vrne iz ribolova. Vmes je brez sramu nekajkrat hraknila tja v pesek. Otok je majhen, samo 70 družin živi tukaj, medtem ko jih ima sosednji Nusa Lembongan kar 200. Cena zemlje se je znatno podražila, hektar ki je nekoč stal 40 milijonov indonezijskih rupij, danes pride 100 ali celo več.

Ko prispeš, najameš motor pri enem izmed stricev, ki te vztrajno zasledujejo. Pojasnilo, da čelada rešuje življenja in ne strah pred policaji, dobi v odgovor samo nasmeh v smislu bela tujka spet komplicira: “Tu res ni policije!” Tako sem končala z opeklino lasišča, bolečo ritjo, hrbtom in s steklenico viskija nad klifi. Rit mi je obdelala skakajoča vožnja po  neasfaltiranih cestah, hrbet dve romantični noči v šotoru. Viski pa za vse nesporazume na WhatsAppu tekom dolgega pol leta z meni  ljubo osebo. Še vedno. Zahodno vzgojeni možgani, vzhodno navdahnjena glava, biti v mešanem razmerju ni hec. Plus liter kokosove vode in vse kar imam je zdaj.

Življenje je ena taka ribičija. Osamljen stric nad klifom je dejal, da včasih tam čaka ure in ure in ne ulovi ničesar. Ko ulovi, pa ven potegne tudi do 15 kilogramsko ribo. Od tega pa se da nekaj časa živet.

Polo

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