Tired. I was also incredibly tired, knackered — as my British fellows would say. Yet, I still found the energy to ensure that the mosquito net covered the entire bed. I even tucked in the hanging bits under the mattress for a complete gap removal and made my way to bed. About 10 minutes in, it began to feel like I am in a musical theatre with lights off or an animal circus in the dark for extra adventurous spectators. The chorus of unidentified pows racing and squeaking on the rooftop, accompanied by a next batch of performers doing a tap dance, and a gang of offended geckos trying to show off by introducing themselves as loud as they can — ‘géck — ó, géck — ó, géck — ó’, was taking off and attendance was not optional.
It remains a mystery to me how, given the circumstances, I still managed not only to log out but to completely shut down (can’t help it, worked in tech for too long). Sleep claimed me from about 8pm to 2am and I woke up from a dreadful two-fold nightmare: my phone being stolen at the airport, and someone whispering my name and gently tickling my neck. As I rose to rejoin the nocturnal symphony of the wilderness, it took me a while to shake off the lingering horror of the dream, despite being completely aware that I was sleeping.
Waking up in the morning and facing the consequences of a night of drinking is one thing; at least you can justify the price you are paying. However, opening your innocent eyes only to confront the harsh reality of brutal jet lag is an entirely different story. It presents itself with blurry vision, buzzing head, and your brain blatantly ignoring any signals sent to the body for even the smallest movement. Komang was standing next to my window, enthusiastically shouting ‘good morning’ in her sweetest, authentic accent. The queen of promises had assured her that she would be awake ‘way before 8 am’ to partake in the inauguration of the family temple at 9 am. Yet, here it was, 5 minutes to 9, and none of my body parts were willing to cooperate to make it happen.
‘I bring sarong for you’, Komang continued, as I was penguin-like tiptoeing, swinging side to side, and creating momentum to take me to the door. ‘Here, maybe for you little big but you too slim’ she laughed extending her arms with a nicely folded piece of clothing as I opened the door. It was indeed little loose around the waist but certainly not generous at the bottom bit, thus, it gave me an excuse to continue the penguin walk all way to the temple.
