Moving Pains

After doing the math, I've realized this is the eleventh time I've moved in the last five years. I wish that were a joke. But since I left my small hometown to attend university in the fall of 2008, I've moved twice each year--at the beginning of summer and again in the fall. Let's break this down:

1. Fall '08: Moved to Fort Worth to begin college
2. Summer '09: Moved back to my hometown (Sealy) to work for the summer
3. Fall '09: Back to school in Fort Worth
4. Summer '10: Studied abroad with Semester at Sea in the Mediterranean
5. Fall '10: Fort Worth
6. Summer '11: Germany for a three-month internship
7. Fall '12: Fort Worth
8. Summer '12: Sealy
9. Fall '12: Moved to Australia 
10. Summer '13: Came back home to Sealy
11. Fall '13: Moved to Dallas

Moving is exhausting in every way possible. In addition to the physical defeat that comes with repeatedly packing and unpacking your life into boxes and suitcases, there's also an emotional toll involved. This is especially true when you're uncertain of whether you're making the right move or if you'll see the friends you've said goodbye to again.

This most recent move to Dallas has seemed like the most challenging one yet, which is ridiculous considering it's within my own home state. But my move here was quick and unpremeditated. And I didn't arrive to a backpacker hostel or college dormitory, where it's easy to make new acquaintances who are all in the same boat. Similarly, apartment leases are no longer in sync with school semesters, so for the first time in five years, I'm living without a roommate (or two or seven). 

I was lucky enough throughout college to have most of my furniture and household supplies provided as a part of my living arrangement. The few appliances and items I did own were sold in a garage sale last summer to help me fund my travels, so when I moved into my little 1BR flat, I had to completely start from scratch. One month later, and I'm still sleeping on an air mattress and eating breakfast on an ironing board, while my kitchen supplies are a mix of camping cutlery (spork anyone?) and take out boxes. And to be honest, I'm kind of okay with that right now. 

Anytime I think about buying a piece of furniture or a mattress, I consider the opportunity cost--a plane ticket to visit a friend. Besides, once you have furniture, moving becomes a whole new ball game. So for the time being, I'll continue living à la Holly Golightly, where there's no furniture in sight, but plenty of milk and champagne in the fridge.

My Favorite Island

In between Bali's mainland and neighboring Lombok, there lies an island that often goes unnoticed by the average tourist. Compared to Bali, the island is sparsely populated, difficult to navigate and anything but luxurious. The interior of the island is arid and hilly, making farming more challenging for its inhabitants. And while still considered a part of Bali, the locals speak an older form of Balinese no longer heard on the mainland. There are no resorts, bike taxis, peddlers, infinity pools or nightclubs. In many ways, this island is what Bali was like 40 years ago, before mass tourism settled in and created environmental and cultural conflict. I'd like to introduce you to what has become my favorite Indonesian island:

NUSA PENIDA

I journeyed to Nusa Penida to volunteer with the Friends of the National Parks Foundation at their Conservation and Community Development Centre located near the village Ped. As soon I arrived, I noticed the stark contrasts from Bali's south coast--the water was clearer and trees hugged the coastline, instead of buildings and highways. My days on the island were spent in the organic garden, cleaning up the beach, snorkeling or exploring small villages. My nights were spent hanging out with the locals and other volunteers at the centre, where we'd sit barefoot around a long rectangular table and sing English and Balinese songs until midnight.

{It's not uncommon to have an entire beach to yourself on Nusa Penida}

{the best way to get around the island is by motorbike}

{sunrises worth waking up early for}

I've debated about writing this post for some time now, part of me selfishly wanting to keep Nusa Penida a secret; a place that wouldn't change no matter how many years passed between my visits. But I've realized that's completely unrealistic, and I know that tourism is welcomed on the island, as a couple of my Balinese friends are trying to start a tourism center there. Nusa Penida is certainly not for everyone. If you're looking for sights, museums and shopping, you won't find that here. Nor will you find pampering day spas and luxury hotels with Western amenities. No, Nusa Penida is for the avid adventurer and explorer--one who delights in camping on the beach, exploring unnamed caves, hiking through forests and learning about the local culture. It's where you go to relax and lose your sense of time as you adjust to the slower rhythm of life and discover the way Bali once was. I encourage you to visit, and if you do, please tread lightly. The island has neither the resources nor infrastructure to support the mass tourism that Bali has seen. So as you explore, remember the tagline created by my friends and featured on the island's only t-shirt, "Keep it natural."

A Night Trek on Mount Batur

My alarm went off at 1:45 am. I rolled out of bed and found my way out of the mosquito net in record time, especially for someone who had just gotten five hours of sleep. I got dressed, slipped on my hiking shoes, ate a couple of biscuits and washed them down with an iced Nescafe that I had bought from the Circle K down the street. At 2 am, a driver arrived at the homestay to transport me and two others to the foot of Mount Batur in Kintamani, which is about an hour from Ubud. The German couple I was traveling with fell asleep during the car ride, but I was much too excited to shut an eye. Riding shotgun, I chatted with our driver and gripped the armrest in fear each time a stray dog ran into the road, which was about once every kilometer. 

We arrived around 3 am, met our trekking guide (a sixteen year old high school student) and began to follow her lead up the active volcano, with our flashlights in hand. We climbed at a quick and steady pace. The terrain was still moist from the recent rainfall, and I had to use my hands several times to catch myself when the gravel-like volcanic rock slipped under my feet. But it was a fairly easy hike, only taking us one and a half hours to complete 1700 meters. 

Once we emerged from the layer of fog that surrounded the two calderas, we were welcomed with a blanket of a thousand stars--the brightest I'd ever seen. Our group of four were the first ones to reach the summit, arriving an hour before the sun, so we sat and waited in the cool mountain air. I spent that time enjoying the silent stillness. I said a quick prayer, thanking God for the many opportunities I've experienced over the course of my travels. And sitting there, dangling my feet over what felt like the edge of the world paradise, counting my blessings on shooting stars, I certainly felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

{the first signs of daylight}

{prayer offerings on top of the volcano} 

{it's possible to see the ocean from this view point on a clear day} 

{beginning the steady descent into "the clouds"}

Advice for hiking Mount Batur:

-Book the tour through a reputable company. For safety reasons, visitors are not allowed to complete the sunrise trek without a local guide. There are several tour companies that offer similar packages, but make sure you're getting exactly what is advertised. I say this because I wasn't 100% satisfied with the booking I made. While I can't recommend that company, I've was pleased with another tour I did with this one, and they also offer a Batur trek.

-Bring your own flashlight or headlamp. I borrowed one from my homestay and the light was so dim that it barely covered the area around both my feet. Be safe and bring your own.

-Wear layers. You might work up a sweat trekking uphill, but it's gets cold once you reach the top, and it can feel like a long wait for sunrise if you're wearing shorts.

-Bring a backpack or small bag to secure your loose items and free up your hand for the climbs. I thought the pockets in my jacket would be enough space to hold everything I needed, but I ended up wishing I had worn a rucksack.

-Pack bottled water. This may be provided depending on who you booked the hike through, but it's a good idea to bring some with you just in case. Same goes for snacks.

-Don't leave your good camera at home. The lighting and visibility can vary greatly at the peak, and you'll definitely want more than just your phone to capture the sunrise. 

-Ask your guide to take you to highest vantage point. Most groups will stop at the lower vantage point, but there's another one just 25 minutes up the slope. All you have to do is ask your guide.