Forget me not, Bali


When I was younger, let’s say, early twenties – whenever I heard someone was going to Bali I was imagining wild parties on the beach under the full moon, drunken swims in the ocean and not knowing where you end and the sky begins. The ocean crawling under your skin and nails, little packets of souvenirs in the corners of your smile. I imagined things much more simpler than the experience of Bali actually was. I’ve never felt more calm and collected in my life than I was in Bali. Perhaps it was the visits to the temples, the wishes I made for my life’s future and the thought I was forced to put into it. Perhaps it was the last time I’d see the person I was with there, or maybe it was just… Bali itself.

However I am certain now, looking back, that I’ll never be the person I was before Bali. The whirlwind of emotions that were going through me when we arrived there, after an erratic previous trip in El Nido, Palawan (we had been traveling for a week that at point, and were spending another week in Bali), I didn’t expect to be countered with such a serene feeling that Bali left me with, when I departed it. A relationship ended there, never to see the person again, and somehow I found peace in the process of this farewell trip.