The shared home of Aaron and I looks more like a mini hospital these days. Aaron got in a motorbike accident and is recovering while I'm a nice blend of cuts and scratches. Nothing is healing here. The salt water isn't full of miracle cures, and I think tomorrow will include a trip to the apotek for some Bactine powder and antibiotics. I'm doing okay with covering what exists so I can keep getting in the water, but healing sounds good for the long term.
Surf report - caught a bunch of small waves (2-3 foot) in two hours, got in my quality paddling around time, and have no sunburn. All in all a success.
Day passes + 1
Yesterday was a good day in the water, caught my best ride yet and jumped off to paddle back out for more. My right shoulder took a beating as I tried wrestling the huge board through the breaks. Took a couple of knocks and tumbles, where I had to open my eyes under water to find which way was up. It was so fun, and so intense, I couldn't last as long as I wanted to with the small injuries mounting up. I finally left the ocean with the idea that healing and going out after a couple of a days would mean better rides and more surfing later.
Nothing heals in the water. The fin cut and foot scrapes are red, tender, and bleed easily. I'm stuffing antibacterial powder into them and hoping for scabs. I also picked up a round of amoxicillin and will even try a placenta cream recommended by Candice.
This morning I was still up after a night out on the town and I drove to Brawa beach to watch the sun rise. Rays of light picked through the palm trees and highlighted the waves as the early surfers paddled out to the reef breaks and effortlessly rode wave after wave, the crowd growing until the sun was fully up and the water held a nice group of bobbing bodies lining up for the surf. I took a short swim in my club clothes and rode back past the incoming surf crowd with their boards mounted on their motorbikes and Balinese laying out trays of fresh offerings of crackers, flowers, and incense on banana leaves.
My evening stroll down the beach in Seminyak was filled with locals, games of football, volleyball, and all kinds of vendors hawking manicures, watches, and kites. The waves looked good too, where they broke further out and the few surfers out caught ride after ride until I couldn't see them in the dark anymore. Aaron and I sat watching as we ate steaming hot grilled white fish in a butter sauce topped with golden, crispy garlic. It's a good life. I've never been more tan and the swimming is leaning me down until I'm finally giving into the guilty pleasure of eating a bowl of pasta now and again.
I can see myself in this dream for a while. A life centered around the water, above and below, surfing, diving, sleeping hard and eating well, cold beer, a clove cigarette, and idle conversation. I debate turning my flight back to the US into a round trip fare, a few months back to clean out the stuff stored at Randy's house, a music festival, a wedding, lots of hugs and kisses and rambling stories of that one-time in Thailand or Bali or where ever is next. Then another flight, a small bag for my bikini and computer, and the endless summer again.
There are some key things I haven't found here that I miss and treasure. Mostly the companionship and creative outpouring of my life back in Portland, with friendships that are the kind you're lucky to get in a lifetime. My brother's sons are getting older and talking to me on the phone in both excited and breathless fragmented sentences, Randy cutting in to ask them to tell me what they did that day. I want to be a part of that day with them, an Auntie Rebecca story intermingled with what they ate for lunch. I also miss my family, the way they enfold me in a hug that asks for nothing and gives everything. Can I have it all? Can a life encompass that much joy and the time and distance to be both places?