Sunday, August 30, 2009

Bali insomniac

As a little farm girl, mum would kit me out in a woollen balaclava, strap me into a custom made seat on top of the tractor wheel hub, and here I would snooze away the hours of seeding or harvest. This was early training for overnight trains in India, long haul buses in Morocco and the midnight rustling of plastic bags in dormitory accommodation. In short, I could sleep for Australia. If they ever introduce the sleepathon to the Olympics, I am a medal chance.

That is, unless they hold the event in Bali.

Maybe it is because my bed is not aligned with the holy mountain, or I have displeased the gods by unknowingly treading on a footpath offering. More likely it is the sensory overload that hits me when I step onto the tarmac at Ngurah Rai. The traffic noise in the Legian/Seminyak area is relentless; the excessive signage, consumer goods and obese blokes in Bintang singlets visually assaulting; and the elixir available at many a funky caffeine den enticing. Plus my mind is whirring with with grocery lists, massage appointments and hotel bookings. A far cry from our home environment where a falling coconut disturbs the peace and co-ordinating with the tide is the main stressor.

You of busy purposeful lives may scoff, but the ‘island ideal’ can become under-stimulating, and I welcome the change of pace and adrenaline fix afforded with a few days in Bali.

Sleep…who needs it?

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thanks for taking the time

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