All right. So, my knuckles are finally healing. Why would they have to…?
Where do I live?
My accommodation is pretty basic or pretty splendid – depends where on the scale you’re at. After my archaeo shed experience in Crimea, I don’t have a scale anymore. A sink, toilet, bed? Luxury. No explosives? Always a bonus.
When I move to a new location, the first part of the ritual is to infuse the place with my energy. You can also simply read this as: cleaning. Lots of cleaning. Thankfully, having one bedroom with bathroom for my quarters, means that there isn’t that much cleaning to be done.
On the other hand, in a surfer’s type of accommodation, there’s always a layer of dirt to be scrubbed. So, armed with a brush, sponge, mop – you name it, I spent a couple of hours working out pretty hard. By the end of this, my knuckles looked as if I was in a serious fight. (You should see the other guy.)
There’s something more (and please don’t faint): I don’t have hot water. No warm water either.
1. Cold water.
I told my friend, Warrior, about it. His reply was simple: Just say my name out loud when you’re taking a shower and it’s gonna be HOT. All right. That should be easy.
So, I’m taking a shower and saying his name out loud: Warrior. The water is still freaking freezing. Maybe the spell doesn’t work over long distance? He was in the States when giving me the advice, after all.
There is a good side to this. I already managed to convince myself and now I’m going to try to convince you too. For years now, I wanted to start taking cold showers. They’re supposed to preserve your body very well and “forever young” sounds pretty cool. Paul Newman was submerging his face in a sink filled with water and ice. If it worked for him, it should work for me too. So, I’ve got a perfect chance to welcome something beneficial into my life.
Warrior. Warrior. Warrior. No. Still cold.
This is where my Vipassana skills kick in. Present moment. The water is cold and it is going to remain cold. Accept it.
2. Mosquito net.
We’re not used to mosquito nets in Europe. We usually have mosquitos only a couple of months in a year, so it doesn’t seem like a necessary item to have. However, in Bali, it’s a basic thing in every bedroom.
I really appreciate this practice. It’s quite nice when I don’t have to slap my face in the dark hoping that I finally hit the mosquito. Little buggers are tireless at bothering people in the darkest hours. Suddenly, my nights are calm. All the bugs’ noises that I hear (like buzzing, rattling, rubbing) are innocent when the soft curtain of the net is around my bed. I had no idea that a piece of cloth hanging over your head can be so comforting. And I don’t even want to try psychoanalysing the last sentence…
3. My new office
I work a lot. I do. Tommy is surprised. You came to Bali and you work all the time. This is true. Work is a constant part of my days, of course. The routine is still there.
One thing changed, though. I don’t travel between bedroom, living room and kitchen anymore. Now, I travel between porch, swimming pool and coffee shops. I consider my “office” to be completely refurbished and I like the way it feels.