Tagore questions ‘Can one who is not a lover, know what love is?’; so this afternoon I question, ‘Can one who is not a motorbike rider, know what a motorbike is?” – To answer this myself and four fellows are about to cruise the coastline, by moonlight. Being unable to ride, and reasonably terrified of being spoked to death or rolled into the ground by a truck, I shall be dinked. I am considering a pink helmet, and repulsively Barbie, Girlie as that sounds, it is the only one that fits my skull size.
Here in Bali, I am attending a conference to explore ethics, peace and ways that I can use the experiences I had in India, in my work and life, in Australia. I am with a band of other individuals addressing a similar question, but in relation to different areas in South East Asia.
All day four walls, a square table, pineapple juice and the excrutiating rustle of plastic wraps around single mints (yes, an incredible waste of plastic) has filled the senses. So tonight, as a way to re stimulate the body and mind, a speedy journey along unknown roads, to untasted dinners, and perhaps no return at all.
Just imagine if the four of us on this cruise rode all the way to the end of the earth and this was the last blog I ever wrote? Such is the lure of risk, curiosity and trying new things in order to change.
