And then the day comes when you’re finally disconnected; finally free of Facebook and social media. There’s so much reading and writing to be done! Crossword puzzles need solving and the world is calling. Our map is by memory, or advice from our hosts: “on the right at the strawberry monument”, “in the middle of the traditional market”, and “after the big corn”. The birds seem louder here without a phone in my hands. They are too sticky from peeling fruit, anyway.

These days are easier. I left DC dreaming that on this trip I might experience some level of boredom. To me, yawning and whining about there being nothing exciting sounds like such a magnificent privilege. Since trip plans began I wondered how I would sneak in some restless days of unreasonable complaints. It has been six weeks non-stop, or stopping only for a day at a time. Now, accidentally and abruptly unplugged in Bedugul, the Bali capital of fruit–and, apparently, broken WiFi promises–I have sat still. I have woken up to bird calls, few of which are roosters, and written my own songs to go along. Maybe I watch the sky for hours, just listening. Maybe Dave drives us nowhere on the scooter for a while. We eat the same homemade homestay breakfast every day, and visit the tiny market on the corner for dinner each night. Bedtime is nightfall, our alarm is daybreak, and every boring moment is a bit brighter without a screen near my face.

After listening to a bit of our “where we’ve been and where we’re going”, as you do in hostel life, one of our particularly fantastic  Jogja roommates asked in some kind of wonderment, “Do you two have scheduled days off?” We just kind of looked at each other before Dave shrugged, “Well, they happen.”

Yes, yes they do.