I’d come to Jimbaran Puri Bali resort to sketch, not be sketched, but my brief friendship with Made is humbling, reminding me for the thousandth time that we have little idea of the vast web of connections around us.
And, really, couldn’t much the same be said of harmony in travel? Not only staying aware of what notes a place is striking, but conscious of the notes in your own journey as well – two melody lines, two journeys, one beautifully agreeing arrangement.
With that observation pointed out, as simple as it was profound, I realized how easy it is to take this world around me right now for granted. That differences like a candle left burning on a cake are always there; it’s just up to us to stay open and discover them.
While I exult in the natural beauty of Pandant Beach, I exult furthermore in the gift Made has given me – the gift of solitude. The gift of space. The gift of an illusion – of being able to imagine I’m the first one here.
Surrender is about coming to a wall and deciding whether you’re going to merely bang your head against the bricks, or actually figure out a way to get over them – the act of “finding another door” which the resort’s manager, Marie-Hélène, referred to.
Sometimes you don’t notice the constant presence of something until faced with its absence. That thing for me here in India is noise – everywhere except, I recently discovered, in the Thar Desert, on the far western edge of Rajasthan.
It’s the tricky part of loving your job, and something I haven’t quite mastered yet: learning to cut it off and allowing yourself to just be in the moment, without worrying about what you’re going to do with that moment.
On a recent trip, I realized train travel is about slipping into a world that could only happen here – not on a plane – where strangers buy each other tea and hold their children and by the end of the journey, can call themselves friends.