Travelling to come home

How far do you go to realise what you have.

I lay back and watch the palm trees sway. The beach is so perfect it makes a mockery of paradise. The water is crystalline, the sand is like flour. Salt keeps my hair permanently tangled.

This Thai island is exactly where you wish to be when crammed on public transport with a day at the office staring you in the face. I live in a bikini with questionable ankle jewellery.

Sam leans on his elbow.

“Jessica just has this way with people and I’m not sure how our friends are going to react to the breakup. It’s going to be a mess when I move back.”

“Mmm.” I sense more is coming.

“That’s what makes me think, you know, if this visa thing comes together, I can make Australia work for another few months and then head back to Bali after it all calms down.”

How comforting it is to offload to someone new, who only has the context you give them. Sam and I met 48 hours ago and I already know Jessica’s family history, love languages and blood type. I don’t dare ask how old she is.

“I think wait and see if this guy calls you back about the job before making any decisions.” I say. “It seems like you have the time to enjoy yourself for a bit.”

His eyes scan my body and he gives the grin of a schoolboy that is about to disrupt a class. He is covered in tattoos, with one across his chest that says loyalty, trust, respect like gang insignia. A rugby ball left him a crooked nose and there are piercings in both his nipples. He has the kind of upbringing that could make you weep.

It is a surprise, the company you keep outside the bubble of your own routine. At home I would never cross paths with someone who abseils for a living. Nor would I endorse spending time with a person who posts proud photos holding dead fish on their Instagram. I’ve heard principals can slip when you’re in Thailand.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that.” He says.

“And you’re technically a fugitive.” I reach over and pinch his chin. This is what everyone imagines when you tell them you’re taking a break to travel, even if you swear blind the only thing you are looking for is yourself.

“I’ve done worse than a visa run.”

I believe him.

Two nights ago he offered to give me a lift on his scooter after a Muay Thai class and we haven’t been back to box since. At our best, we sit on tiny plastic chairs scooping up noodles and broths thick with coconut milk, feeding each other the juiciest prawns. He tells me I use big words and I like it when he asks me to describe them. Our mouths chilli hot don’t stop for talking.

At our worst, his mood swings and I am his reluctant therapist. Heartbreak makes him unstable, his doubts repetitive. It’s been intense, as all travel meets are, and I sense this one will be coming to an end soon.

Ok I confess. I’m getting fed up with him but he has a scooter. We challenged ourselves to lay on every beach this side of Koh Samui and I like to dodge the holidaymakers.

“When was the last time you were home?” I ask.

“About two years ago.” He says. I don’t hide my shock. “Honestly, you’d love the lifestyle in Bali so much. The community out there, the vibe, lots of cool people. No stress.”

“Lots of hooking up.” I reply.

“That too. I don’t have anything to back for really.”

I think about the impermanence of it, of always living in the present. I imagine being part of the flow of party people who stay for the beach life and then eventually leave. I picture bad singing and guitar playing round fires.

“God, I could never survive that long away from home.” I say.

“Why would you ever want to leave paradise?”

“Because there are too many people that I’m tethered to,” the answer came easy, “There’s a lot of love in my life that ties me down.”

I think of my mother who I can barely pass a day without speaking to. Of my father who will be waiting for me at the airport, albeit outside to avoid the parking fee. Of my gorgeous friends who light up my life with their brilliance. Of my unconventional grandma who left home too many times, and the consequences of that.

There is rope that binds me to all of them, that keeps me from floating away.

“I have a lot to go back to.” I realise. “Even if paradise suits for now.”

He raises his eyebrows to acknowledge my big conclusion.

“Lucky you.” He says, then his mouth teases into a smile. “What about that shit job you keep complaining about?” I try and give him a playful slap, but he dodges it. We can never stay serious for long.

“Are you getting in with me?” he says.

We hurtle towards the sea.