Foreign Roads of a new Life

After less than four hours of sleep, the alarm on my phone went off; waking me up with the words “Life is wonderful”. A message that I have saved and that pops up with every wake up call. A positive affirmation that is rather hard to take in at 3am in the morning…

3am wakeup call
My bags were already packed and just needed to be strapped to the bike after the toothbrush and some last little items have been thrown in… 30 minutes later my bike and I where ready to take off to Pandangbai, from where the ferry would leave to Lombok.
I just put on my jacket, when it started pouring down rain…
Hm. That’s not quite how I imagined my farewell. Yes, I decided to just sneak away without making a big deal out of it. No ride off. No hugs. No tears. Well, but rain… Damn. Dressed in my gear I laid down on the bed again to wait until the rain stops… It was 5am and still raining, when I passed out. I woke up again at 8am to the dog barking outside my room. “Arrrrgh nothing seemed to work by plan these days!” I jumped up and pretty much straight on the bike. It had stopped raining but was a grey morning…
The shuffle setting on my iPod chose some pretty intense tunes for me… The very first song playing when I put on my helmet, were some lines from the Old 97’s

“Where I might have had a home I made my bed (…)music heart
And my destination is written upon my feet
And the stars above are about the only company I keep
So raise my pass and take my seat
I’m rolling fast with a teardrop on my cheek
So I guess there’ll be no family
So I guess there’ll be no wife
Gonna roll away on an old steel dray, it’s gonna be my life
And the road maps I been reading, I never came to figure out
All I know is I’d explode by any other road
I’m a-rolling on
I’m a-rolling on”


…followed by a chapter of Sergio Bambaren’s “Story of a Dreamer” and some wonderful Aboriginal melodies form Gurrumul Yunupingu.
Wow!! It felt like the past year and all that had happened on that crazy journey since my breakup with Australia, was now rushing past my inner eye and pew! what intense feelings in brought with it. The wind blew a tear across my cheek that secretly escaped my eyes…

My tummy started to growl louder than the engine sound of my bike but I decided to keep rolling until I reach the port and to grab a bite there. I was very nervous about all the logistics at the ferry. I have never taken a vehicle on a boat and in a rather corrupt country, I am aware that I have to expect the habour staff to try to find some “issue” that would give them a reason to ask me for some money or to not let me go at all. I have heard all sorts of stories.
At my arrival I just followed the signs and waving of the port guides to make my way to the ticket counter and to find out the time of departure… a few mintues later I rolled into the big tummy of the ferry, having missed any chance to buy some food. Lucky I packed two bananas and some crackers as little snack for the five-hour ocean crossing… Well, now this will be brekkie, snack and lunch all at once.
I found a spot outside, sank relieved into the plastic chair, send some farewell messages and then I was gone in my world of thoughts, memories and reflections about my life, Bali and that whole mad idea of travelling alone on a bike…

I didn’t speak a word until someone asked me where I was going to stay in Lombok, when we already docked into Lombok’s harbor. “I don’t know.” The German couple looked at me surprised and kind of shook their heads in a non-understanding way. I wasn’t in the mood to explain anything. I put on my jacket, grabbed my helmet and made my way down to the car park of the ferry, where I was the only “bule” (western person) and the only motorbike amongst many scooters and a few cars. All the curious looks I just answered with a friendly smile and rode off… Southeast I think.

A new place! New and very different energies! Different colours, smells and sounds. The shimmering roofs of the mosques poking their heads out in the distance, the roads smooth and much better than in Bali, the vegetation doesn’t appear much different to me. Cows. Rice fields. Mountains. Palm trees.
I am taking it all in. I have no destination on my mind apart from a service station, some food and a bed before dawn.

I have never felt so free. So grown up. So strong. So mad. So independent. So proud of myself. So incredibly excited and nervous. So… wow!!! Was that really me in this saddle?? Am I doing this?! I mean, really?
I had to release all this and scream out loud when I rolled along the foreign roads of my new life.

Lombok's roads 2

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