Virescent

The title of this blog comes from Lonely Planet, a franchise that--in an attempt to cater to perpetual cheapskates like myself--began publishing condensed versions of their famously intricate travel guides. Not willing to pay the exorbitant sum of $20.99 (yet happy, somehow, to pay $12.99 for a book that contains one-sixteenth of its more expensive counterpart), I left Chaucer's with said guide--a tiny portrait of Bali, a tiny Indonesian island that floats one gigantic Pacific Ocean, twenty hours, and approximately one universe away from the world that I currently live in.

Not wanting to waste any of its precious pages, the inside cover of the guide features a quick reference: how to say 'thank you' (silahkan) and 'one more' (satu lagi), the absurd currency exchange (one U.S. dollar=9,075 Indonesian rupiah), etc. Then, under essential facts, it lists three things: the Price of a Cold Beer (15,000 Rp), the Best Place to See the Sunrise (Sanur), and Another Word for Green (virescent).

Another word for green?

It's that last one that got me. Nestled in between the business hours and numbers to call in case of emergency, the author of my introduction to Bali found it essential to give me another word for green.

If that doesn't hint at something magic, I don't know what does.

So here I am, plugged into an outlet in the astonishingly grim "Marina Café," LAX's answer to departing Asians who, for whatever reason, find it necessary to eat one more velveeta-smothered chili dog before returning home to their countries. At the moment, three Korean girls are sitting in the booth next to mine, giggling over their Long Beach Combos (hot dog with pepperocini, in case you were wondering) as a little girl sprinkles Sweet n' Low packets all over the floor beneath their feet. The couple on my other side just did a "cheers" with their Haagen Dazs bars, and I felt one of many recent surges of distaste for Americans. Across the restaurant, a monk is playing with his iphone.

It's a strange and wonderful time to be traveling as a citizen of the United States; strange because of recent events, because of Anti-American rioting and the reputation that seems to cloak anyone who travels in the footsteps of a certain breed of tourist who would rather say "NO SPEAKO BALI-O" than pay $12.99 at the bookstore. I'll admit, given the current political unrest, I wasn't sure if it was wise for me to be here right now, traveling as a young American girl--alone--to a part of the world that may or may not see me for my country and myself.

Still, for that very reason, it is a wonderful time to be traveling. It is a wonderful time to flip upside down, experience a culture and a life that is radically different from anything I have ever known, and to be front and center to a heated political moment. I want to be safe, but I also mean to experience and to see it and to touch it with my hands. As my guide told me, even the most sacred of Balinese offerings are occasionally meant to be crushed underfoot... it's what happens when you walk.

So there you have it! Day one of my big adventure. The café is closing and people are lining up. There are more seats on this airplane than there were students in my graduating class. When I leave this country, it will be 1:15 a.m. on September 20--and when I touch down in Bali, it will be 2:00 p.m. September 21. What happens to Thursday? Only the clouds know. But as I head closer and closer to this pocket of green, I know I'm in for something good.