In November of 2015, I took and completed my IBDP exams. It was a time of great joy and liberation (because duh), marked by a graduation trip to Bali. It was truly an acquisition of freedom because it was the first time that I had travelled overseas without family or under the guise of a school trip. In fact, most people thought that our trip was crazy, on account of the fact that it was 2 girls travelling to a seemingly dangerous place (we were supposed to go in a group of 7, but everybody backed out or couldn’t confirm and we decided to just go ahead because we wanted to). I was scared; at one point, I even contemplated cancelling the ticket or transferring it to Ziki’s sister. I had high anxiety at the time, coming off of the exams, but I was also excited and I wanted to go. It just didn’t make sense for me to not go and sit at home making up scenarios and thinking about things that could go wrong while not doing anything, instead of refuting my fears whilst being in a scenic, relaxing location. In hindsight, there was nothing to worry about. I thoroughly enjoyed the reprieve of work, and the days by the sea.
It was an idyllic, slow-paced 4 days, and we were broke as heck but we pretty much did whatever the hell we wanted, when we wanted. That was the best part. Or the beautiful villa with the pool we never quite used and the deliciously cheap breakfast. Or sorting out a glitch with our accommodation like a pair of grown-ass adults. Or braving the catcalls and dubious comments when we were walking back from dinner and it was dark out. Or the black-sand beach and the sea that made me face-plant into the sand 194738 times, causing me to roll, land on all fours, consume 40% of the sea and lose my dignity in front of a bemused crowd of Caucasians who were way more adapt at Bali seas than I was. Or maybe it was the thrill of parasailing and flying fish. Or the stunning views from uluwatu. And the monkey that bit Ziki’s slipper while we were on our way to stand on the precipice of a cliff. Or the impromptu pool party at a Julian and co’s villa and when the stove exploded. Or traipsing round Bali on the last day with 10 Singapore dollars in my pocket, and when the money ran out, begging the driver to take us anywhere that was free, after which we ended up at another beach, watching the sun set and the planes taking off, while waiting for our plane to take off.
Yeah, probably all of that.
Funny, I’m only recalling these snippets as I’m writing this post. I’d almost dismissed it as a small little trip, but I’m now realising that it was a really really great time. And I was happy to have spent it with a like-minded companion in Ziki.
Check out some of the photos from the trip below!