I’ve gotten a great sleep every night.

We fall asleep gently and wake slowly as the sun rises. We keep our blinds open so we get as much early light as possible. Early morning is rad, I’d always wanted to be in the habit of waking earlier, but fuck alarm clocks. Now we wake up around 6 or 6:30, without an alarm, totally refreshed. The morning is no longer pinched between sleep and work, it’s now a lazy couple hours that I can read or meditate or talk with Azure or satisfy my internet addiction, ordering too many books on Amazon before I’ve even earned the money to pay for them.

My internet addiction frustrates me, and this is a good way to hobble it. TV, the internet and phones (especially as they’re used now) separate people from presence, almost always unnecessarily, so I’m glad to be rid of them for the night. In fact, I’d dramatically smash my phone with a wine bottle, shirtless in the rain, at night, by candlelight, with long hair, if my clients didn’t need it (the phone) to contact me, but that’s another story.

Do we cheat? Occasionally, but don’t worry, we feel really guilty about it.
What does this have to do with travel? Deprogramming.

What we get from the new rhythm:
- Blog content.
- Better sleep.
- More quiet, focused time.
- Early mornings.
- A sense of superiority.
- A predictable nightly rhythm.

The negatives of not using electricity at night:
- We miss out on media-based cultural narratives (news, Lost, internet memes, the Mariners)… which isn’t itself so much a loss as the fact that these narratives connect people.
- Internet withdrawl.
- We aren’t physically able to stay up late with friends, though they seem to be falling asleep earlier too, because they’re old now.
- Sometimes it’s hard to cook by candlelight.

“Crashing, it’s THE number one risk,” he said. “That’s factual.”

Everyone looked at this guy cockeyed trying to read if he was for real, meanwhile the instructor paused for an extraordinarily long time, perhaps taken by a chilling vision of the weekend to come. I was busy imagining what the guy thought lesser risks may be: currency devaluation, teen pregnancy or a housefire? All seem like risks, if you think big enough.

My list differed from the standard “SUVs and potholes” as well. Mine were: chickens darting into the road, rabid dogs going for your leg, hot grills crowding the street and child drivers. The instructor paused an extraordinarily long time, perhaps taken by a lovely vision of riding in Asia. The other students looked on in awe.

Yesterday, in Bali, we finally hit the road, and I was well-prepared for motorcycle safety in the third world. We rode through parts of Indonesia that reminded me of India – dirty markets, hectic streets and people dressed in drab clothes. Then we got to parts that were so remote that they didn’t remind me of anything I’ve seen before – we drove through tribal areas high on the hills where people still lived in thatched-roof huts and didn’t speak Indonesian (they spoke Balinese). Throughout the trip we had to avoid chickens, dogs, grills and child drivers.

If you’ve never encountered school children in the third world then you’re missing out. Dressed in government-issued uniforms, these kids went NUTS when they saw two white people coming down the road. They would scream “HELLO! HELLO!” and wave like miniature flight attendants on speed. Drive between two schools and you’re in a parade, waving to both sides and truly touched by the outpouring of love from the community. Azure and I screamed “HELLO! HELLO!” until we passed through, leaving the kids jacked up and incredulous: “Did you see those fucking white people!? That was awesome!” I turn to Azure on the bike, “Did you see how fucking cute those kids were!? That was awesome!” It’s genuinely exciting every time, the social version of bubble tea.

Another thrilling circumstance arose when we took a short cut and ended up lost on absolutely ruined roads, but we pulled smack into the middle of a Hindu town’s scooter-mounted holiday procession to a monkey forest. They were dressed in beautiful formal Hindu sarongs, button up shirts and head scarves. Some of the men had nice sandals and the women looked stunning. We figured out that they were headed the same direction, so we just continued among them, Az snapping photos from the back of the scooter. We chatted with a very nice young couple on the neighboring scooter as we pulled up behind a truck loaded with revelers standing in the bed and waving, “Hello!” And we smiled & waved back. The instructor wouldn’t have liked any of this.

When the group finally turned off toward the monkey forest, Azure and I were left quietly heading toward Ubud, eight-and-a-half hours into the day’s ride. Exhausted and sore-butted, we overshot the turn to Ubud by seven kilometers. At that point I doubted we would make it back to our hotel. But we did, eventually, and collapsed into bed to sleep at 8:30.

Sandal envy