Brad Blogging in Bali: Slowly, Slowly - Reflections from Our Trip -7/20

I hope that I never forget this trip - the busy streets filled with food-cart vendors and motorbikes & cars with the constant sounds of horns signaling their presents, the artsy shops and rice terraces of Ubud, the cool breezes and lush mountains & valleys enclosing Munduk, the lakes and natural hot springs flanked by craters and active volcanoes of the central mountains, the white sand stretching out to the turquoise waters of the Blue Lagoon in Padangbai, the ubiquitous Bob Marley tunes playing in the background on Gili Trawangan, the feeling of walking on the pure coral beaches that surround Gili Meno, the marvelous skies with trippy clouds, brilliant stars and serene sunsets of Lembogan, and the surfers disappearing into the night off the towering cliffs of Bingin.

But, even more than those memories, I hope to never forget the kind and beautiful people that we met that helped guide us in our journey and those that added a helping hand or added some flare to our experiences. I hope to never forget Gede, our driver that led us to and from Munduk. In addition to his kind and helpful demeanor, we occasionally would witness his playful sense of humor, like when he informed us of how Bali's most expensive coffee, Kopo Luwak, is harvested (from the feces of an animal they call a luwak). Kutut, our guide to the top of Mount Batur who held unwavering confidence and patience for us as we slowly made our way up. Darta, dive master at Padangbai who had a warm smile, joyful eyes, and helpful spirit that was both reassuring and comforting when breathing air from a tank under water in our first dive. Jay, the no-nonsense, organized, best-dressed (nappy underwater attire) dive master whose patience was the perfect balance to Eurie, the carefree, Scandinavian, self-entitled "water clown" who bubbled with enthusiasm when describing the beauty of local marine life. We also received a hardy "hello" and helpful hand from our waiters, hotel staff, and the countless strangers with whom we crossed paths, who regularly had to point us in the right direction. We also had a wonderful shared experience with people that came from all over the world to see this beatiful country. We compared travel itineraries with a couple from Japan in a spa in Ubud, relaxed in the hot springs of Munduk with a group of Australians, discussed the best places to travel with some Americans on our hike to the waterfall, fell off the beaten path with a mother and daughter from Switzerland, made light of our boating and transport experiences with a young French couple, dove with some honeymooners from the UK, and watched a Scadenavian learn French in a dive company that was managed by a German. We also had the delight of having our friend Mindy along with us through much of the trip serving at times as our guide, photographer, and co-adventurer. Everywhere we went we witnessed the great melting pot of languages and culture.

It's easy to look at a place like Bali and find fascination in all that is different: food, religions, rituals, dress, the vegetation, climate, language, calendar--are all so different. And, yet, in looking through my photos and reflecting on the trip, I can't help but notice all that we have in common. I saw little kids playing in tide pools that reminded me of my girls enjoying swimming in Plainfield's aquatic center in Indiana. I saw two boys have stick fights that totally mimicked Charlie, my 5-year old nephew, with his Star Wars saber. And, as I watched a young lady and man playfully laugh at each other, I couldn't help but think of Tonya and me taking classes together at Purdue more than 15 years ago.

There were also the moments when I was reminded how fortunate I am, and my girls are, for being born in America. Throughout the trip, I was saddened to see woman carrying enormous loads on their head, with men directing them at times as if the women were mere pack goats. I listened to a thin, elderly Balinese man that was trying to sell us some type of healing oil, made from tree sap, to Tonya. He carried a smile on his face and held a demeanor that me think he was happy to just to rise to see another new day. At the end of our conversation he asked where we where from. After we responded, he looked at us with his deep brown eyes and a dreamy smile on his face and said, "Ah, America. You are such lucky people."

A phrase that I heard often on this trip spoken by those that helped me was, "slowly, slowly." I heard Gede say it before we opened the back door of the taxi on a busy street. I heard Kutut say it as he coached us through our steps up the mountain. I heard the guide that we encountered on our trip to the waterfall as we came upon the narrow paths. I heard Darta say it right before we started to descend below the waves in the Indian Ocean. The words are spoken as if they hold greater meaning than simply slow your pace. The words seem to guide not just the movement of your body, but it guides your state of mind. The people of Bali are both kind and playful and seem proud of what they have, rather than disappointed in what they don't have. They are strong and determined, yet seemto avoid the rat race mentality or hurrying through life. They seem content in the moment.

So, as I return from this trip, I know that I will be slammed back into my real world, where I wear dress shoes to work instead of flip flops on a beach, where the hustle of my morning routine often prevents me from finishing my cup of coffee, where I go to bed at night thinking about all the email messages, projects, and responsibilities that wait for my attention the next day. I hope that I can heed the advise of all those that guided me on this trip. Slowly. Slowly.

The motto has less to do with time management or reducing the number of hours worked in a day (although I do need to find better balance). The Balinese seem to work rather long hours every day of the week. But it is their thankful, reflective, joyful spirit that allows them to enjoy, almost savor, the moment they are in - truly living in the moment. So, I leave this trip, proud to be an American, thankful to be married to my best friend, comforted in knowing the girls had a wonderful time at their grandma and grandpa's house the last few weeks, eager to give them a big bear & snail hug and listen to their stories, and yes, even ready to return to work.

Slowly. Slowly. I'm ready to come home.