Backstage Pass

I’ve booked a flight for next Friday from Brisbane to Bali. I leave late in the afternoon and will touchdown in Denpasar at about 9:30pm local time. If my plan comes together, I’ll then head straight to Ubud, in the Balinese uplands, and stay there for a few days before working out what’s next. I’ve given myself just over three weeks to hop around Bali and maybe some other Indonesian islands too. Or perhaps I’ll just find a space of my own and sit still a while. I write, and I think, a lot about sitting still and finding places to do it in but now understand it works as a pendulum swing. After the Indian ashram I was desperate for the chaos of the city (and for masala dosas) but, after a spell in the madness, I long for some quiet and to be on my own. Right now, I need the time to reset and remember myself.

Since arriving in Australia, nearly a month ago, it’s been a whirlwind of parties and gatherings. Festivals and feasts. Late nights. It’s been good to be with my friends. People that know me. And also with new people that have been getting to know me. And me them. I’ve been welcomed into the homes of friends of friends and instantly made to feel like part of the gang. I haven’t been watching a movie of my travels, as I did in India and on occasions beyond, but instead have somehow managed to get my hands on a backstage pass.

I went to the Falls Music Festival to dance my way into the new year and the new decade and was lucky enough to be be gifted with a VIP ticket. Turns out I knew someone who knew someone. I was given a sparkling gold wristband and a fresh fruit daiquiri in an al fresco bar on the top of the hill. And walked down a steep woodland footpath and into the festival crowd through the back gate. The truth is, I hadn’t heard of most of the bands playing and almost everyone there seemed to be at least twenty years younger than me. But I do keep smiling as I find myself in these rare and unexpected moments and places.

A few days later, a new friend called Tash (who will one day for sure be an old friend), gave me a much sought-after ticket to Make It Rain, a fundraiser hosted by Celeste Barber in aid of the volunteer firefighters. It was such a fun evening of music and laughter. And although again I had to ask Google to get the finer details on these Byron Bay movers and shakers, the buzz in the air told me I was in with in-crowd. Simon Baker, Bernard Fanning, and Wolfmother are apparently quite a big deal.

But for me, days like yesterday are what this place is really all about. And that is the ocean and the magnificent coastline. At the most easterly point of Australia is The Byron Bay Lighthouse and leading to The Lighthouse, is a well-worn trail that many run, walk, or hike. Most do it for the views which are expansive and beautiful and make not believing that the earth is round seem forgivable. But many resident Byron Bayers do it in the name of fitness. So yesterday morning, encouraged and escorted by one of my new friends, surfer and lighthouse-running regular, Rama, I gave it a go.

Lord, it was tough. And I really thought I might be sick on more than one occasion, but still it felt good. It’s been a while since I pushed myself, or have been pushed, that hard. And the scenery was truly breathtaking. When my legs turned to jelly, we stopped at an outlook to watch surfers and dolphins. Yes, surfers and dolphins. Just like that. Playing in the waves just feet away from each other like it was the most normal thing in the world. We then stopped at the paragliding ramp and whilst I squatted low, absorbing the view and marvelling at the smallness and vulnerability of me, Rama saw the edge as a good place to headstand. But sweetest of all, after passing the summit, we took a small detour off the trail to make offerings of gratitude with fallen frangipani blossoms. And to check on a wee sapling that Rama had planted. This is what you get in Australia with a backstage pass.

I was a hot, sweaty, wreck by the time we got back to the car park, but Rama had already decided that after lunch it was time for my first surfing lesson. I didn’t even attempt to stand up, but riding a wave lying flat on my tummy and grinning alongside kids of all ages doing the same, was one of the best feelings ever. I was completely exhausted after only three or four goes, which included a face plant and a nose full of sea water. So I left it to the experts and the energised and crashed out on the sand. As happy as a clam.

Five days later and I’ve ‘done’ the lighthouse every day since. And although I haven’t had any more surfing lessons, I’ve finished each effort with a much needed plunge in the ocean. I’m learning how to get changed in car parks, like surfers do, and how to negotiate waves. Although I still find myself tumbled off my feet when I least expect it. The Pass, where we swim, is always busy no matter the day, time or weather, and is filled with surfers and ocean-lovers of all ages and descriptions. It is friendly and lively and I think it sums up Byron Bay in a nutshell. It’s cool, it’s beautiful, it’s laid-back, and fun.

So, as seems to be my way in recent times, it’s taken me a while to get this written enough to share. And now I’m in Bali. I arrived at the Krisda Guest House in Ubud late last night, smiled at my excellent choice of accommodation, and then slept the sleep of the dead. The streets and footpaths that lead to Krisda are higgledy-piggledy and uphill and down, so I took photographs as I walked out this morning. I’m bound to get lost. Right now, I’m sitting in a warung called Boga Sari and eating Nasi Goreng. This is Bali. Over the next two or three days I’ll decide on what’s next. If anything. So far, Ubud is lovely and does seem to be somewhere I could stay a while. But it’s hot and it’s inland. And although it’s the off-season in Indonesia as far as diving is concerned, I might still need a way to get back in the sea.