I was so exhausted last night from the Mt. Batur assent that I couldn't even make love to the beautiful Javanese woman I met last night at a club. The climb pushed my body passed the breaking point and I am now paying the price. I feel fatigued; my muscles are sore; my already sketchy knees are swollen. A more immediate problem is the severe food poisoning that is keeping me within running distance of a toilet. Not the best condition for exploring a developing country, although a problem that is no doubt common among my type. I am now sitting on a small, isolated island, Nusa Lombongan, that sits off the southeast coast of Bali. Sudi and I reached the island early this morning via a barely seaworthy wooden ketch that held provisions and far too many people for the size of the vessel. The boat is clearly not U.S. Coast Guard compliant. Actually, my greatest fear was not the sinking of the boat but my unfortunate problem with motion sickness. I prayed to the Bali God not to let me get sick. The prayer worked. As I sit in a picturesque bungalow overlooking the harbor, my only thought is that I wish I could be home. This is the first time I have felt the homesickness. I miss my son Eli. I hope he is doing well in LA. I drank a banana smoothie for dinner and hope that I don't shit my pants in my sleep. I am a realist and keep my hopes simple and attainable.
2 comments:
If you really thought you might crap your pants while sleeping, that would have been the perfect time to invite over the woman you earlier indicated you wanted to rid yourself of. If she continued to stalk you after seeing that, marry her. That's real love. (Well, when I say "marry her," I mean it only in the sense of their culture; not in the sense of bringing her back to the States.)
Steve
You're a very bright man, Steve! That would be true love. By the way, email me your contact information to wasabinoir@gmail.com. I want to catch up when I get home.
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