Page 8 - thedewchronicles
P. 8


“In oneself lies the whole world, and if you know how to look and learn, the door is 

there and the key is in your hand. Nobody on earth can give you either the key or the 

door to open, except yourself.” ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti


Kuta Beach, Bali, A few weeks ago. Sunday dawn.

I slammed my stiff pile of body over the chair. Oh gosh. Got woken up by gushy wind 
slamming open the window on 3:32 a.m. was not exactly a pretty feeling. Especially 

when you lost count of how much liquor you shoved down your system earlier that 
night. Not a pretty feeling at all. Hangover. Sigh.

Dragging the heavy feet across the kitchen floor I splashed my face with water from 
the kitchen tap and struggled to put the coffee machine to work. In 10 minutes, I was 

back lounging my legs on the chair n took a sip. Oh at least the caffeine helped. 

Stared outside the balcony window. The scent of white Plumeria flowers carried by 
the wind reached my nostrils. Cloudy. Rain was on its way. Sigh. What was I doing 

here in the first place? Can’t seem to remember what made me come to this so called 

Paradise Island? Yeah right. Paradise of lost souls walking down the white sandy 
beach scrounging for a little piece of something they thought they’ve lost in this hurly 

burly of enormously busy and mundane shallow world of the 21st century. The dawn 
of the golden Age of Aquarius, so they said. Ha yeah, try telling them that. They 

pranced around as if strolling around the beach roads wearing wrinkly shorts and 

cheap slippers could make up for the lost forgotten years. Well maybe it works for 
some; maybe it makes them feel a whole lot better. Ok, enough bullshit. Let the 

coffee kick in and let’s sort this “Why am I here” question. A big LOL in my head. 

Ha-ha. A big Ha-ha.
I finished half of my coffee when the rain started to pour. Cold and windy. I pulled a 

clove cigarette out of the pack and lit it up. They called them kretek cigarettes down 

here, sweet delicate stuff if you care to try one. Puffed the smoke and gazed blankly 
outside the window, listening to the early birds chirping up the tree tops.

I’ve been staying here for the past three and a half months. The main excuse was 

cheesy, taking a break from hectic city life and got fed up of paperworks, tired of 

packing bags, always on the move, and I got sick of standing in lines in airports just 
for a few stamps here and there. I needed some quiet time on my own, away from it 

all. Just want to sit, lay back, sipping my Black Russian or vodka plus Cointreau 

cocktail mix, watching people pass me by, and basically do nothing else.

And yes, I do travel quite much. Some part for work some other part for simple 

reason of boredom. Need to see some new places, meeting new people, change of 
scenery, shift of pace. I always thought of myself as a wandering soul, a traveler. A 

nomad kind. Can’t seem to settle down in one place for longer time, I tend to pick 

jobs that need extensive traveling, or working abroad. I’ve always had fine jobs. But 
working for big financial institutions was quite taxing to your soul. You deny yourself 

a lot. I was in Jakarta for quite some years, inhaling the pollution and crawling around 
its clogging traffic. If you’re trapped in that sort of traffic day in day out your face


   6   7   8   9   10