Capricious

35 - Bali - English Rose

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."
- Fyodor Dostoevsky

If that first journey had not been such a paradise, would I not be floundering in faltered comparisons all the while, appreciation falling half the way, and the expectation of something more stolen from me? For all the shock of culture I do not mind, I adapt like I do, but there is little in the way to share this, this sparse but sharp, vague but beautiful world apart.

Alas, I feared too much at such a first glance. Now I'm melting in. Scared to strike into the pool, but there I go. Now the maze seems sweeter, now a near future is blooming. A compatriot of home, we sing our floating minds, towards structure and madness, and from there I flow towards others, such is the way the game is played. An instant attraction, of what I'm not sure, fragrant cheeks sprouting rose against cream. Am I falling to her, or her to me, a friendship of familiarity, or just responsibility?

Scaling a forest full of monkeys, set in their wilderness wild, great trees full of swinging vines, temples smoking all the while. Markets enriched with colour, of little wooden creatures and the lightest cotton, wandering straight on through, with too much to wonder at. These towering spires of elegant culture, coated by flowers and sun alike. Palms and patterned stone, magical statues sprouting life. This world close enough to nothing, or perhaps just close enough to everything, I'm simply passing through, with a satirical story and a foundry of friendly faces.

Dividing across the dynamics of many, dancing across diverging scenes to taste so many souls. Refreshing and robust, how quickly we can absorb ourselves. Some more, some less, but no mind for me, a few scares unfounded, but awesome all the same. My family of Chinese friends, taking on delicacies near and far. Hurdling entirely the pretence of plastic, that drag things far too slow or way too far, that have no wish to entertain any but themselves. And others so nice, so open and true, swinging along each road we take. We most are the same, adventurers, explorers, shining bright and loving all we do, finding ourselves and each other in such a philanthropic paradise.

Refraining from the cold, turning into warmer fronts, my sweet Canadian friend, dashing along the streets and mulling over journeys far and wide. The cutest thing, face brightening as our eyes cross, and a sense of admiration at her finding her way so fast. Setting eyes upon a feast of fire and dance from Hindu legend, characters bright against the night, swaying buzz such a fair delight.

A trek of foot and mind it took, there we stumble to the lounge, at curfew we refrain from fear. Crossing fields and adorations just to be there, for friends and friends of friends. Sipping Tom Collins' on our cushions, an introduction to others in a tipsy breeze, voices and faces seeming so curiously familiar. Each and every, a mad conversation ensues, we drink, we dance, we delude ourselves far into the night. She bites my shoulder. Rounds of rainbow shots, till we can't take any more, flashes stolen from my mind, crazy is as crazy be. Such brilliant fun. Then losing ourselves around, traversing tile and trail, before Bonnie walks us home. And there we are, sitting by the stair, secrets falling from our lips far into the night, until the sun rises once again.

Sailing through the streets, the speeding breeze rushing alongside, surrounded on every front by the beauty of Bali, great temples and vine ridden cliffs beseech.

Beset sudden by a tide of intense loneliness, flowing up from cracks hidden within my fear, running parallel to my being sated, that I am at a loss for what to do, that I am being left behind by all. It's like being burned alive, being so drained that I can't walk out of the flames, even though a rescue could lie not feet in any direction. And yet here I lie, waiting to die.

A deep sleep does rejuvenate me, and so we make our way to the water temple, wrapped in purple, sharing this life with her. Under the glare of the sun we dip into the pool, washing away the grime of skin and mind, amidst incense, flowers and fragrant mist. A sense of purity, it feels so good, to hit refresh, to be cleansed so deeply.

And so we break off from the herd, adventuring further into the jungle's heart. Descending down into a temple carved from rock, statues intimidatingly tall looming out of cliffs so high. And through it all we move closer and closer, unable to detach, everything and anything once more, the characters and setting of this story so without fault, surrounded by beauty in all its many forms.

My English Rose. Living together all day, all night. Being downright naughty in all we say or do. Teasing each other in such flirtatious and touch-feely playfulness. So much fun flaring from our every encounter, sharing our love and loss for all around, in agreement every time. Just seeming so alike, in every direction I go she follows, in every direction she goes we climb higher, just being friends so very easily.

Sounds of trumpet and saxophone playing in the background as we stir and compare from our cushions on the floor. Then back to lounge again, making plans crazily impulsive, until we happen to be left alone again. There we lie together in our intoxication, imitations and stories and views, cracking each other up. Nigh on perfect, no want to change this, face aching from howling happily too far, as we lay across the night.

Under the sunlit sky, swimming to infinity, a break to the West, sampling sweet nectars and cream, to fill me with a blissful satisfaction, and propel me further into this realm of utter paradise.

Harsh standards of life frequented with periodic elements of absolute bliss.