Travelfuckinglocity

I final arrived in Indonesia after an almost 30 hour journey.  It is beautiful, stunning, utterly holy.  Unfortunately, I can't take any pictures because my camera bag is in North Korea along with all of my clothes.  

This story might make guys a little squeamish, but women will understand that sometimes these things happen.  Guys, don't worry.  I won't talk about my feelings.

This trip was (IS!  IS) an exercise of starting fresh, clearing my mind, and starting a spiritual practice.  Which, I can apparently only do from Asia.  The week leading up to it left me with some serious doubts - about the trip, my sanity - you know, the usual.  But I got on the plane (with only moments to spare, only half of my boarding passes printed out, and a minor panic attack) and struck up a fantastic conversation with two male nurses from San Diego.  OK, things were looking up!

The flight was late getting to LA and I had to literally run to check in at Korean Air.  The woman there picked me up, threw me over her shoulder and tossed me onto the plane.  OK, far, so good.  

The flight is about 14 hours which is a long long time to sit, so I read, I wrote, I fretted.  Then, I hit the bathroom and got a lovely surprise - my period!  Just 10 days early. Always better than 10 days late, I suppose.  

So I ask for supplies but they don't have any.  I seriously considered screaming out to the whole plane, "hey, does anyone have a tampon?" but I refrained.  So I am sitting there for like another 12 hours just waiting to change my clothes or at least buy some things in Seoul.

In Seoul, they have a huge giant airport.  It has wireless cafes, children's play areas, miles and miles of duty free shops, shops that sell nothing but I <3 Korea shirts, but they do not have one convenience store. Really.  I walked miles in that thing. And they don't stock them in the bathrooms.  You can buy every shade of Lancome lipstick they sell and believe me, I tried. I really needed something more basic, however.  

Time to check in to the flight to Denpasar.  Oops!  They can't check me in because I don't have a boarding pass. So I am like, "but I didn't get one - they said to check in here."  They send me to the other terminal to see if I might be able to convince someone they should give me a pass to board my flight.  I am sent to three different counters until I get to the right one.  There is a surly young woman sitting at the desk and she tells me aren't open.  So I am thinking, "why are you sitting here?"  I come back in 15 minutes, she rolls her eyes at me and starts demanding my boarding pass.  I don't have one.  "Where is your boarding pass?'  I don't have one.  “Where is your boarding pass?”  I don’t HAVE one.  We aren't making progress.  

Finally she says, "why?" in the most accusing voice I have heard outside of my parents.  (Mom, I have NO idea why your car was out of gas when I was 13 that one time, I swear).  She finally relents and gives me my boarding pass. 

I get on the plane to Bali.  We are ready to take off.  I haven't understood a word anyone has said to me all day - this is no different.  A Korean Air stewardess runs up to me on the Indonesian flight and tells me they didn't put my bag on the plane, she doesn't know why, I have to call the baggage counter in Seoul tomorrow, there is nothing she can do.  Shit.  OK, fine.  Well I am going and I am going to have fun and if we have to have a law suit when I get back so be it.

Halfway into the flight I realize I am literally bleeding through my pants.  I have a big period stain on the only clothes I have access to.  I take my pants off in the bathroom and attempt to wash them.  This leaves a bigger, pee-looking stain.  I clandestinely put my hands over my butt and hope no one calls security.

Finally, we get to Indonesia.  The driver my friend Natasha hired for me because she rocks, picks me up and I tell him about the bag.  "Don't worry, I will take you to a store you can get everything you need."  I love this man!  I love this place!  It reminds me a lot of India only with a ton of drunk Australians walking around.  

There is a temple on every corner and I will be here for the Hindu Day of Silence where you can't talk or have your lights on or leave your house from midnight on March 4 to dawn of March 6.  They even close the airport.  But the thing that is even better is on March 3, they take their elaborate statues down to the ocean and burn them to get rid of evil spirits.  I will be at the beach that day, so I am pretty stoked.  It seems like Burning Man without having to talk about nothing else the whole next year. 

Unfortunately, most Indonesians are smaller than me so I try hard, but wind up with two inappropriately fitting t shirts, a gaping pair of men's boxers, something I hope is a sarong and a 3 pack of little girl's pink underwear.  Well, it is what it is.  

I finally check into my hotel, and what do I see?  3 GIANT roaches.  I grew up in the tropics and I was permanently scarred by roaches as a child in Hawaii.  I hate the fucking things.  Hate.  I call the front desk, we have a hard time understanding what is in my room, but she sends a guy out from maintenance.  He has this giant pincher and I am thinking, "if that is how big the roaches are here, I am screwed.”  He is looking all around the room, can't find anything, then I finally point one out to him and starts cracking up.  It seems they thought I had giant frogs in my room.  He picks it up with his fingers and throws it outside.

This is a beautiful place and I am grateful to be here with such amazing people but I am a little afraid to go to sleep tonight - I don't want one to crawl on me and whisper inappropriate Indonesian phrases that I will accidentally repeat.

Tomorrow I am headed to the monkey forest, see some traditional Balinese dancing and hit the craft villages.  Tomorrow will be a better day.  Mike, my tour guide, is going to take me to a priest to get holy water dumped on me too.  It can't hurt.