March 8, 2024.
I’m certain I am not walking the right path. I take the wrong turn on purpose, wanting to experience something different. It’s my second time doing the Campuhan Ridge Walk, but this time, I want to get away from the predefine route. Passing behind a temple, Pura Gunug Lebah, I immediately get a reward for the wrong turn. Two merus, multi-storied shrines, come into view. The path, rarely crossed, is covered in moss, leaves, and mud.
To prevent from falling, you have to be ready to slip. This thought reminds my of recent people I’ve met. Conversations that don’t meet expectations, might be either way. Connections not realized. To connect with others, you have to be wiling to fail, to expose yourself, without knowing how others will react. It takes energy, mentally and emotionally (at least for this introvert), and sometimes, frustration.
The walk continues, through rice fields, passing groups of travelers. Solo travelers too, so many, from all ages and nationalities. Many solo women travelers, the most that I’ve seen than any other place. Many, following their “Eat, pray, love” dreams. Of being willing to leave some things behind and follow adventure. To look for something more, surrounded by rice fields and scooters. As I walk pass rice fields, surrounded by valleys and rivers full of vegetation, tall palm trees and bamboos. I am also Julia Roberts.
I pass by an abandoned villa. Maybe I’ll just take a peak. The lobby, under a falling wood roof, still has some remnants of the villa. A frame with each room’s phone number. Keys still hanging behind the reception. I inspect the rooms. Wooden doors and table left to rot. The staff’s quarters, still full of boxes with individual shower caps, toothbrushes, and napkins. It’s as if they closed the place temporarily, but never returned.
I return to my accommodation, just in time for the afternoon rain. Time seems to go slower. It rains harder, and with it, time speeds up.
