A magical sunrise, Montezuma's revenge and a decision.

A little spoiler in advance: I'm sitting at the airport again - especially in Bangkok - and waiting for the onward flight to Frankfurt. With the last post I already hinted that Bali is perhaps no longer for the faint of heart when it comes to traveling and looking for relaxation and a little piece of paradise.

I spent Christmas Day at my little resort by the pool. And I tried to save all my energy for Boxing Day, when I booked the must-do sunrise trek to Mount Batur volcano.

The pickup was already at 1 a.m., but before we really headed north, my driver and I did a little sightseeing tour through Kuta to pick someone up. That was actually a bit of a flashback, because we made our way through the party street, past the “Bounty” and also the Bali Bomb Memorial, the memorial to the attack on the Sari Club in 2002. We then picked up what I thought was a young Vietnamese woman, in a black mini dress, chic earrings, handbag and two large suitcases. At this point I became unsure for the first time whether we were actually going to the starting point of the trek on the volcano. That's always the thing in foreign countries: you get into a car with a stranger from Balinese in the middle of the night without a care in the world and hope that everything goes well, that he takes you where you should/want to go and he He's also not an ax murderer. But hey hey, so far everything has still gone well.

And this trip was also adventurous, but we arrived at the “base camp” and were divided into small groups with guides. The young Vietnamese woman then turned out to be a German from Trier and actually wanted to go to the volcano in this outfit and with a shopping bag. You always experience new, strange situations... The five of us, including our 23-year-old guide, set off at a pace at which I knew right from the start that I would never, ever get up there alive. After a short time, Madame from Trier set sail and let herself be driven up by an off-road bike. Which of course was out of the question for me. 😉 Then my young Balinese Komang agreed with me, sent the couple Nicole and Sam from California up with another guide and then adapted to my pace. The conversation was really interesting – and once again very grounding. 23 years old, married at 20, first daughter at 21, husband is a farmer and grows spring onions. Every morning at 2:30 a.m. she rides her scooter for 1 hour to the trekking starting point in order to get around €8.80 for each day that she climbs up and down with tourists. I don't need to mention that she doesn't get anything when she's sick or doesn't have a weekend or vacation. Nevertheless, she earns more than the average in Bali, which is around €200 per month, and is happy that she keeps meeting new people on the tours. From countries that she will most likely never see in her life.

When we reached the summit, it was truly a magical moment. Volcanoes around us, the Danau Batur crater lake at our feet, fog hanging in the peaks, monkeys fighting over the bananas left over from breakfast. All the hardships were worth it! During the descent, our small group of Komang, Nicole and Sam were joined by around 24,598 flies, which find optimal living conditions in the spring onion fields...

It only took us 2.5 hours to drive around 50 km home, which is why I spent the rest of the day dozing by the pool. Maybe I got a little sunstroke there. Maybe the watermelon shake wasn't good either. Or maybe the Mie Goreng. In any case, the coming night was not a pleasant one. And an onward journey by taxi, speedboat and horse-drawn carriage to my hotel on Gili Trawangan was out of the question. So we extended the hotel stay and spent the entire day in bed.

And with every minute I came closer to realizing that traveling through Asia alone is very, very strenuous and exhausting. And that maybe I'm not the type to travel for 8 weeks in a row, but rather take 3 3-week vacations a year. That for me, traveling doesn't improve in quality the longer I do it.

Maybe the health incident and Bali in general finally pulled the plug on me. I can't describe it, but I saw so much that I just had to constantly shake my head. What just got too close to me and robbed me of your strength. I had lost my urge to explore and the desire for the next challenge. It felt like a lot of effort - phew, now organize a taxi, get on the boat, etc. And I don't know that about myself! I might have continued traveling if everything had been easy and great. Who knows? But I feel far from a failure to come back after 2.5 weeks. Nobody is forcing me and I don't have to prove anything to anyone - not even myself. It was a great 2.5 weeks, with many special experiences and impressions that I won't forget.

And now I'm looking forward to my flight back to Frankfurt, where my parents will pick me up at the airport tomorrow morning. 😊 And to many more lovely people who I can see again sooner than planned. It will be a different turn of the year than originally thought. But, hey: life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.

Sabrina