Finding the Beauty in the Chaos of Kuta | Day 3

Kuta is chaos. There is no way around it. The maze of alleys will suck you in like a black hole. Always staying longer than you planned, you will leave having consumed more alcohol than you ever thought possible, be wearing cheap knock-offs, and have at least one injury from a motorcycle accident. However, on the positive, you will feel a freedom like never before.  Kuta doesn’t judge. Here, the crazier the better. I see people arrive wearing their hesitation on their sleeve, and within days, they are different, or moreso, they are no longer afraid to be themselves.  With parents and friends on the other side of the world, it is a place to find yourself, or reinvent yourself… and if you don’t like what you find, you can then be whatever you want… whomever you want. 

But in the end, it is chaos, and after a time, it must be escaped. The exhaust, the noise, the partying, the constant harassment from vendors… I start to crave the real Indonesia… the one of black sand beaches and rice paddies, of jungles and small villages. So in my search for authenticity, I walked Kuta at sunrise, and to my surprise, was able to find simplicity in her chaos, patches of beauty among the tourist façade.

 

 

Indonesia | Day 1

For the last few years, I've been lucky enough to take a trip with my brothers and father. By that, I mean we drive 38 hrs to our property in Baja Sur where we camp in the desert and surf every day. It is desolate, to say the least, and it is quite extreme. There are rattlesnakes, scorpions, tarantulas, black widows and coyotes... just to name a few. But there is something so beautiful about this barren land. Each morning, I watch a huge orange ball rise out of the ocean, silhouetted by hundreds of birds on their daily migration. We surf in warm, turquoise water with sea turtles and dolphins. The locals from the nearby village have adopted us; we are no longer 'gringos' but locals ourselves, and are invited to all the family gatherings where we try to speak each other's languages, mostly just laughing and using a lot of body language. This is all such a gift...

But more important than all of this is the time we spend as a family. No distractions of work and computers or phones. We talk. We talk about our lives and what we haven't had time to say to each other over the phone as we maneuver through our busy days. We talk and we laugh and we enjoy each other's company, getting to know the year we all lived since our last trip together, and how we are changed from it. 

But we're not doing that this year. Instead, we are heading to Indonesia. I'll admit I am a little sad we aren't returning to our haven in Baja... it has become a pilgrimage of sorts that my spirit yearns for. But it's time for an adventure, one wrapped tightly in a blanket of the unknown. We have no set plan, and perhaps that is the best way for us. I know that at some point we will be visiting our property, a slice of paradise on the beach with our own break out front. I'm quite positive there will be travel by van, by small aircraft, by rickety boats, and loud motor-bikes. I envision waves, some that I will be comfortable riding, some that will scare me and challenge me in a way I can't imagine, and some that will force me to sit and stare at the sheer power at a safe distance away on the beach. But the one thing I can say with complete certainty is that this trip, this adventure with my family we are about to embark on, will change each one of us forever.

 

This is a short video I put together from blackberry phone clips from our trip last year...

 

Chris & Cristi | Wedding

Warning! This is a long photo post due to my inability to narrow down the selection of gorgeous photos. It may be because I love this couple so very much, or it might be because they are just so beautiful themselves. It may be the tropical backdrop, or the great group of friends and family that helped make it so special... whatever the case, it was a magical day.

Chris and Cristi... my wish for you both is comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, patience to accept the truth, courage to know yourselves and love to complete your life. I hope rainbows are filling the sky in Kauai for your honeymoon! Much love... xoxo.

 

Kaua'i = a slice of paradise

There is more than 50 miles of beaches that ring the small island of Kaua’i. More than 400 inches of rain fall each year, giving it the name, “the Garden Island”. Rainbows. Rainforests. Whales. Waterfalls. Kaua’i is one of my favorite Hawaiian Islands.

I think what I really love is the overall tropical feel. The warm, humid air, that gives your skin a healthy glow, the lush sugar cane that grows along the narrow roads, the light turquoise waters… the way time slows down and nothing else really matters.

I have been loving my hotel, the Marriot Beach Resort situated in a beautiful bay that lets in just enough swell for some longboarding but is calm enough for standup paddleboarding. The hotel’s décor is gorgeous, a bit colonial, a bit classic Hawaiian. Between the coy fish pond, the winding garden paths through red ginger, bird of paradise and plumeria, and the gorgeous beach out front, this hotel is highly recommended!

When are you free?

I first started traveling when I was 2. We were living in Germany on a teaching exchange, and summers and holidays were spent exploring the nearby countries, all literally a hop, skip and a jump away. So at 2, I had my first taste of a foreign country, one with exotic tastes, sounds and languages. I remember watching some children playing in an alley, dark hair and skin, staring at my white head of hair, eventually getting up the nerve to come over and feel it with hesitating hands and big smiles. That was my first memory of Turkey. I think. I remember eating a pretzel at a carnival. There was a parade and everyone was wearing elaborate masks and costumes. I was horrified when they "kidnapped" my mother and put her in a wooden cage. That was my first Octoberfest. Years later, driving through a windy, mountain road in Guatemala, we passed some villagers, wearing beautiful woven dress and bare feet, laden with wood for their fires. We pulled over and offered some food. I remember huge smiles of white teeth against dark skin, cookies in their pockets and overflowing in their arms. I remember their gratitude.
I remember a million different markets, where we experienced the heart of the city and its people. I remember hiking active volcanoes, through jungles and deserts, over mountains and behind waterfalls. I explored at least a dozen countries before I was 10, having countless amazing experiences that have ultimately shaped who I am today. For this I can thank my parents. Through these travels they showed me gratitude, respect, appreciation, awareness, love and courage in a way that just can’t be taught in schools.
Later in life, when I began to choose where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do… I found that I still sought out those windy roads and alleys. Even now, I yearn for an adventure. I crave new tastes and sights. My heart jumps just at the idea of turning a corner I’ve never been, driving a road I’ve never driven. I love the rugged, I love the refined, but mostly, I love the real. It is in those moments, of exploration, of sharing, of experiencing a culture and its people, of the unknown… where I feel free.

Desert Blooms

The Okanagan Valley is considered Canada's only true desert. Sun-drenched vineyards and orchards nestle in the valley surrounding the lakes. The ideal location for golfing, water skiing and wine tasting all in one day. But for me, it's more than that. Because I grew up in this climate, it makes me feel like home. A deep breathe takes me back to hot summer days by the river, the water down to a slow flow, but still holding its emerald green. It might be the smell of the sagebrush, now brown and dry. Or the sap seeping from the willlows. It might be the hot sun heating the tar on the roads. It might be the sweetness escaping the peaches and cherries, now ripe and full. Or maybe its the crickets in the late summer evening, the rocking of a swing on a front porch. It might be the breeze, still hot with the desert air, blowing the white cotton from the poplars, dancing them down the quiet roads. Perhaps it's the smell of freshly mown grass, or the waft of a bbq from down the alley. Whatever it may be, I feel a pang of homesickness and in that breathe, remember a million moments spent in the desert heat throughout my childhood.

Here are a few desert blooms from last week's venture. Lavender... my favorite.