It was a long day of departure. Getting to the dock from the south end of the island took one hour instead of 20 minutes, thanks to road closures and cremation parade. There is only one main road on Lembongan – and lots of sandy wannabe-roads in the boondocks, absolutely not made for a pickup truck.
Getting from Lembongan to mainland Bali took a good while due to the wind. I sat next to the captain who was wearing a huge chunky watch and a carefree smile. “You will come back next year” he said. I just might.
Getting from Sanur beach to the airport took a good while. I had to wait for another boat to arrive. The captain with the chunky watch and smile kept me company. This was his life, every day, and I was one among 365 people in a year he probably kept company in wait of the next boat. “You will come back next year” he repeated.
I waited for my flight for 4 hours and acquainted with an Australian couple. “We come back every year, for 20 years now” they said.
The last leg from Zurich to Helsinki I flew in business class together with a world-famous rapper, his babe, and his entourage. We deciphered the Scandinavian foods on the menu together. He will probably not come back next year.
But I might just return to Bali next year. And the year after that. Get old, get stuck on one thing, and just go back to Bali because – well, it is Bali.
(Lembongan, Bali, Indonesia; and above Switzerland; August, 2015)
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