Bali Beauties

May 10, 20237 min read

I’m both a bit disgusted and a little surprised that I fully embraced the Bali “find-yourself” culture. The following three thought bubbles have been circling around and around my brain for the last couple of days:

My life has rarely felt bigger and more beautiful: Gazing out at Kelingking beach and the impossibly bright blue water meeting the secluded white sands below a cliff that drops right into the ocean. Climbing down was exhilarating, and I sat on the beach for my strength and healthy body, and the many times in my life when I would have physically been unable to travel like I am now. Watching other people’s faces contort as though they were trudging through a death march, I felt especially grateful for the many years of competitive swimming and dedication to daily exercise. It has opened up a whole world of places that I can go, and many others cannot. I almost never feel as if I can’t accomplish something physically demanding (these days, at least—this has certainly not always been true). These are my favorite places, which makes me worry about my commitment to accessibility. I’m reflecting on Edward Abbey’s philosophy on how to limit roads in national parks, and the protection of natural treasures from the influx of mass tourism. Simultaneously, I’m thinking about how many people have physical disabilities and should be able to see Kelingking beach, and I’m not entirely sure how to reckon with both of these thoughts.

Life feels both very short and very long: This is likely the only time in my life that I get to travel like this (through hostels, for four months, with no uncertainty about what my future holds and stability), and so many other young people I’ve met have made travel their entire life. The digital nomads and world travelers who live abroad have found ways to accept their ever-changing community. It is always jarring to meet people who chase the photos and not the community, who have a checklist of places and are simultaneously so distant and difficult to connect to. Fellow travelers who have a list of places to see before they die, but as soon as they get the picture, they want to move on to the next place, the next picture. It feels extractive? I’m not completely sure what to make of it, and how much I fall into that mindset. Then, there are the people who don’t yet know what kind of impact they want to make, or where they’re headed in their lives. Travel is a wonderful way to reflect on what kind of impact you want to make, and everyone is on their own path. But meeting people who are wandering lost also makes me feel very grateful to feel like I’m in the right place, that I’m living with my sense of purpose, and the direction I’m headed in aligns with that sense of purpose. Travel doesn’t make me feel lost, or make me reconsider where I’m headed. It just reminds me how much meaning and joy I get from things that are challenging, and how I couldn’t drift from country to country forever. I love the thrilling excitement that comes with exploring a new place, but it is really the people that I’m with and that I’m meeting that make my travel most meaningful. That, and knowing that I can be on my own for long stretches of time and be incandescently happy and entertained just by the thoughts in my head. Meeting new friends every day, and then being forced to say goodbye to them as I move on to the next city, reminds me that many, many people will come in and out of my life, and all I can do is be grateful for the time we have/had together.

If it’s meant to be, it will be: Just burn this into the recesses of my prefrontal cortex. Tattoo this into my neck. I’ve never felt more that things happen for a reason, and I can’t fully explain this feeling. I blame Bali, and I did warn you that travel cliches will flow abundantly.

The 5 days in Bali were the closest I’ve come to the Instagram influencer lifestyle. I went into this section of my travels with the intention to see what kinds of things are most meaningful and make me happiest, and I decided to give the greatly lusted after Bali beaches and Instagram-highlight reel lifestyle a try. Because why not? Infinity pools, heart-shaped seats, and artistically organized smoothie bowls, are tantalizingly attractive to everyone. It’s the wanderlust aesthetic that has oozed like millennial-pink goo into every corner of social media. I thought I would relish in the lush luxury, that I would feel like I had walked right into a funded travel blog, but I was (I hate to say), immediately bored. Pictures capture a moment, and while it is a beautiful moment, it really is just a moment. It doesn’t capture the feelings of inadequacy, stifling heat, crushing presence of the fellow tourists, and the painful desperation of the taxi drivers yelling from the broken pavement. The pictures of so many of the places I saw online before the trip when I was booking were intentionally, misleadingly perfect. Cropped, edited. I spent a long afternoon at an infinity pool overlooking Nusa Lembongan, which was objectively the most Instagrammable pool I’ve ever seen. It is hard to imagine anything more picture perfect, but I just felt wildly unimpressed. Maybe this lifestyle is outside of my comfort zone? Maybe I’m being unnecessarily judgmental? Maybe I’m just cut out to struggle uphill in the snow both ways for my deep happiness and meaning? This last thought does not feel entirely accurate, because I certainly did feel whole-body happiness many times during my time in Bali. Simultaneously, I’m looking forward to the physical and emotional challenge of hiking the Annapurna circuit.

I did manage to complete embrace the experience of becoming thirst trap Bali Beach Babe on our tour of Angel’s Billabong, Broken beach, Kelingking beach, and Crystal Bay on Nusa Penida. It was hard to not just want to take a million pictures of myself from a million different angles to highlight my extremely attractive farmer’s tan. See pictures below. Here, I have to admit that yes, indeed, awkwardly posing for pictures is indeed outside of my comfort zone. But when in Rome, I guess?

It was, however, hard to lose myself in the beauty of the moment when we snorkeled at Manta Bay. Jumping into the water from the boat and following our diligent guide through the rolling blue waves towards the soaring manta ray, I could only focus on two thoughts. First, my devastation at the trash I was swimming through, enormous islands floating on the surface of the bay, weaving between the packed tourist boats. The manta rays, frantically trying to escape photo-hungry zombie tourists. It was a moment I’ve been dreaming of, and was tragically emotionally fraught. Second, I spent the boat ride thinking about the guides for whom watching Manta Bay fill up with trash is their reality, every day. I was struck by how genuinely excited they seemed at our excitement to see the manta rays, and how they were going to get up tomorrow and swim around again in the trash with the same photo-hungry zombie tourists. I’m thinking about how extractive tourism can be, and how unstable countries are when the majority of their income depends on tourism. I can’t imagine a future in which climate change, coral bleaching, reef and habitat destruction does not leave these places economically destitute. I get to fly in for five days, take my silly little photos, have my life-changing travel experience, say that I’ve seen the manta rays, and then fly back to my life of economic stability. While they remain, every day. Before I left, I did think hard how to travel sustainably, staying in one place for several weeks or months, getting to know the local community, reducing the number of plane flights I was taking. When I was planning, however, all I could think about was how this might be my only time to see these places. Partially because of 7+ years of intensive medical training, because I’m young and healthy and able-bodied, because I have no responsibility to anyone other than myself right now, and because these places will not be the same in 10 or 20 or 30 years.

Notes/reflections on the blog: I’m trying to give my friends and family an insight into what I’m seeing and feeling without including thoughts that are too private to share. It is difficult to walk the line of sharing stories and reflections of travel and tailor them appropriately, to make my blogs personal but not too personal. It does not feel true to who I am to just make them about what I’m doing and seeing. There are always more internal thoughts that I am happy to share individually. I would always love to hear your thoughts on posts or photos or just hear from you! I realized that I didn’t carefully edit the last posts, and there are several typos and grammatical errors, and felt a lot of shame. I hate sharing unfinished products, but I’m also writing these on the plane and in the airport, and I’m trying to just accept that there will inevitably, be errors.

Quotes:

“I’m headed back to the ‘Gu Vortex” – a fellow hostel member referencing his trip back to the Canggu party scene

“I’m going to be a moody bitch in the morning” – said with British accent that seems like the equivalent of a Valley Girl intonation, about getting up to climb Mt. Batur at 1:30am

Listening to:

I Bet Ur – Bridget Kearney, on repeat, all the time (!!!)

Momentum – Blake Ruby

Unconditional I (Lookout Kid) – I particularly like the SAPPY, emotional lyrics :’)) Heartfelt is the theme of this week’s blog post

Kingfisher – Lamalo

The Shrinking Playlist – because it’s musical gold and perfectly curated