Injured surfer girl - ice pack in sarong |
Notes on a transformation... or how one confused little girl ended up with far too many degrees in the search for where she belongs
Apr 12, 2012
Seminyak, day 11
I'm tired today. Tired of my swollen and sore ankle keeping me from joining in the activities (mostly I'm disappointed that it's preventing me from fully participating in yoga class; I don't mind as much about the surfing). I'm tired of hobbling ten metres behind everyone whenever we go somewhere. I'm tired of all the thoughts in my mind about what I should do with my life when I get back to Switzerland and figuring out what I need to make me happy. I'm tired of listening to well-intentioned advice about dropping everything and finding my soul. I'm tired of facing the prospect that I will have to leave in two days.
I know I owe you a post about the Balinese healer (who did a pretty good job on my ankle until I decided to walk on it all day today and ruin all her good work). There are also so many other things I should tell you about Bali, about the food, the temples, family structures, deep-tissue traditional massages, art and dance, the hordes of Australians and the million other things I have discovered.
But I'm just too tired. And the ice-pack on my ankle is melting and needs to be changed.
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