someone in the front row had been hit by a misaimed strike the day before! Ouch. It was only after, in the safety of the car, that we learned the sport can be dangerous even for spectators. She elbowed and glared her way (and us) to the front of the crowd. Luckily, our home stay Mama was not a woman to be taken lightly. There were hundreds of spectators, in from villages around Kuta to watch the excitement. bamboo sticks hurt! After the most violent rounds, it took twenty to thirty minutes of coaxing to get more men into the ring. It sounds innocent enough, but we saw the whelps, split skin and scars that prove one thing. Before you know it, it's over and the crowd is looking for the next volunteers. It's fast and furious, each man trying to get as many hits in before the round is called. The two opponents enter the ring and beat the shit out of each other with bamboo sticks. They are armed with a bamboo stick and a shield and dressed in a ceremonial longi (sarong) and head wrap. Local men from the crowd volunteer (yes, volunteer!) to enter the ring at the behest of a dancing referee / master of ceremonies. If you've never been to a Lombok stick fight, here's how it works. We've always been travel junkies, but this experience has put a new emphasis on quality over quantity.Įven though we are out of time, we are rich in experiences that will last us a lifetime. It's the dream, but now that we have a taste, it feels achievable on some level. Our goal for rejoining reality is to find a balance between reestablishing roots and leaving room for exploration. This could and might be a once-in-a-lifetime thing. The hardest thing is knowing what a rare opportunity this is, being able to completely check out of our "real" lives, put everything we own in a box and get to know the world without two-week time limits or competing priorities. We feel really good about how we've spent our time and can honestly say we have no regrets (but if we had a money tree and a teleporter, we'd be more than tempted to keep traveling). To start the next journey, wherever that might be. Now that the end is near (or here) and cannot be denied any longer, we're a little mix of everything. Would we be sad? Not ready? Terrified of the real world? Excited? Satisfied? Today, it took us all of two hours to pack everything we own and say our goodbyes.Ī few months ago, we started to recognize that this day would come, but didn't know how we'd feel about it. Downsizing from our everyday life to two carry-on bags and two day-packs and (temporarily) cutting ties took time. It took us months to get ready for this trip. But at the same time, when we think about landing in Nairobi back in August, it seems like years have passed since we began our journey. It feels like time has flown, like nine-months has passed in ninety days. In four hours, we will board a Qatar Airlines flight bound (eventually, 30 hours later) for home.
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