Radio Silence

Radio silence.  What happened?  Well, after taking photos with my phone, blogging from the other side of the globe, and generally staying connected it all got wet.  And honestly I'm glad it did.  Maybe it was the Indonesian god of honeymoon, my own unconscious desire to unplug, or just plain dumb luck.

Balinese daily offering called Sesajen.

More beautiful beach debris.

We were sitting on the roof of a boat headed from Bali to the island of Lombok.  The waves were crashing over the top and we were getting soaked.  I thought I had my phone safely tucked into the back pocket of my pants and if I didn't move I would shield it from the salty spray.  I was wrong.  The vinyl cushion I was sitting on was pooling with warm sea water for over an hour.  My phone was soaked.  When we got to the hotel I tried a trick that worked for Bernard just a few weeks ago after he dropped his shiny iPone into the drink at Echo Lake.  I submerged the phone in uncooked rice for 24 hours but she was toast.  No amount of uncooked rice could reverse the damage caused from an hour long warm salty bath.  Side-note, if you want to embarrass Sara to know end try ordering uncooked rice a restaurant in a foreign country with a language barrier.  Pure comedy gold.

iPhone on rice.  My offering to the Indonesian God of Honeymoons.

Normally I would write this up in sort of a play by play of the trip.  Telling the stories in chronological order.  But I'm thinking for this go around I might just shoot out some random stories and anecdotes.  Who knows, that could change in an hour but I've been up since 4:45AM because of jetlag and I'm feeling wild!

Is there a vaykay mode on this thing?

For my first random thought I wanted to touch on travel.  It's been a awhile since I've done it like this.  Turn off, hit the road, and go with the flow.  The thing it really reminded me was that you don't need anything.  It's easy to get caught up in the new Patagonia catalog and think that fleece would be perfect for trekking in whateverlandia or camping in whereveristan.  But when you are actually there you could really give two shits what fleece, travel pants, or sandals you have.  Sure, it would have been nice to have some boardshorts that fit right and didn't fall off my ass every time they got wet.  Or an actual rashguard instead of a polypro t-shirt.  But did it ruin the trip?  Of course not.  We were too busy walking through rice patties, surfing tropical reefs, and drinking fresh squeezed juice.

The rice patties of Ubud.

An afternoon stroll in Ubud.

The moral of the story is happiness is found in experiences, interactions, and the humans we decide to spend of lives with.  Not waterproof/breathable jackets, pants that turn into shorts, and phones that are 6 microns thinner than last year's model.

The "pool" at Bambu Indah.