The original plan was to visit in April before moving to
London. Next it was 4th of July before moving to Kurdistan. Then it
was early August before moving to God knows where. Now I'm hoping to get back before Labor Day and my brother 30th! The reason for the continuously
postponed homecoming? Job hunting. Thanks to the WorldWide Web, it's
just as easy for me to apply and interview for jobs abroad as it would be at
home. And it's cheaper. And it allows me to fulfill a bit of that wanderlust
before settling down in a new job. And when applying to international jobs, the
more travel experience the better. See, it would really be a detriment to come
back early… ;)
It's been a busy, yet relaxing month since I last wrote from
Yangon Airport. Flying into Bangkok, my
travel buddy Chaz and I caught an overnight train and ferry to Koh Tao. We
spent 4 days diving in the clear blue waters of southern Thailand. Reef dives,
deep dives, even a World War II wreck dive. Nothing better than two early
morning dives in warm water to make you ready to take on the day. And by that I
mean sit by an infinity pool overlooking the ocean. But such a life can't go
unpunished, and the day before we left my wallet was stolen. Ironically I had
just written an article for GoOverseas on how to prevent and handle financial
emergencies abroad, and I still managed to ignore several of my own tips. Oops…
But now I needed an address to send my debit card (for the
record, Bank of America was pretty fantastic getting me my card ASAP) and it
turned out my cousin Giri was spending a month at home in Bali. So I figured
I'd head over to Indonesia to say hello. Less than 12 hours off the plane,
Giri, myself, and his two friends, Matty and Tucker, were on a midnight ferry
to Lombok.
Giri had wanted to hike Mt Kinabalu in Malaysia, but they
were booked up. So the plan was to hike Mount Rinjani and then go in search of
some gnarly waves between Lombok and the next island over, Sumbawa. Giri waved
off the fact that I hadn't done physical activity in over a month and told me
the hike was no a big deal. Boy was I in for a surprise. The first part of the
hike through the grasslands was scenic and only on a moderate incline. We could
see the top of the mountain and it honestly didn't look that far or that high.
As we continued up and up the trek, I knew I wasn't going to keep up with the
pace these boys were setting. I let them run up the mountain while I stayed
with our guide, Ridwan, and cursed Giri for talking me into this damn excursion.
I reached base camp in about 7 hours and collapsed. After a dinner of hard-boiled
eggs and avocados and a few hours restless sleep, I was
back up at 2AM to summit what had become my nemesis. Trudging up the last
section, I'm glad I could only see what my headlamp lit up. Because if I could
have seen the top I would have stopped short. The last hour of
climbing in gravel at a 60 degree angle, two steps forward one step back, were
miserable but when Ridwan said 25 meters left I gave it that last push. Giri was waiting for me at the top, and together we shivered
waiting for the sunrise to light up the mountain, crater lake and islands in
the distant. I must have forgiven him up there in those moments for dragging me up 13,000 feet because a week later I was back at it with those
3, climbing up Mt Agung – the highest point in Bali – and nearly
breaking my leg.
As we continued up and up the trek, I knew I wasn't going to keep up with the
pace these boys were setting. I let them run up the mountain while I stayed
with our guide, Ridwan, and cursed Giri for talking me into this damn excursion.
I reached base camp in about 7 hours and collapsed. After a dinner of hard-boiled
eggs and avocados and a few hours restless sleep, I was
back up at 2AM to summit what had become my nemesis. Trudging up the last
section, I'm glad I could only see what my headlamp lit up. Because if I could
have seen the top I would have stopped short. The last hour of
climbing in gravel at a 60 degree angle, two steps forward one step back, were
miserable but when Ridwan said 25 meters left I gave it that last push. Giri was waiting for me at the top, and together we shivered
waiting for the sunrise to light up the mountain, crater lake and islands in
the distant. I must have forgiven him up there in those moments for dragging me up 13,000 feet because a week later I was back at it with those
3, climbing up Mt Agung – the highest point in Bali – and nearly
breaking my leg. 
As miserable at the whole experience was, it
was both physically and mentally a necessary challenge. One to prove to myself
that it could be done, that I could push past what I had thought my limits
were. One to inspire and to remind myself of what potential lies beneath the
surface. At it's pretty cool to say I didn't do it just once, but twice. So it's no fluke!
We moved onto Sumbawa, noting primarily that the drivers in
Lombok seemed intent on dying on the road. The guys found famous surf spots
that were entirely deserted, the waves too high and too strong to even paddle out to. We found other spots, where clearly no one but surfers came to visit. After a few days of attempting to cook up some fish but there being none to buy apparently due to Ramadan, Giri having trouble understanding the locals and getting into a near knife fight with the hotel owner, we decided it was time to return to Bali. Our final morning we finally used the BBQ to roast up some cashews on the beach in southern Lombok having driven overnight from Sumbawa.
Back at the mothership, I've spent the rest of my time split between beach clubs, hanging out by the pool at home and getting work done. And eating too much food. I'll be sticking around through the weekend and then moving onto Malaysia? Wherever it is, I promise I'll keep you posted when I make the journey back home...
