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This past weekend I went to Taman Dayu with a friend, a large park about an hour and a half drive from Surabaya. We had registered to participate in a 12 km run/hike race at my friend’s suggestion. Funny actually, because he hates running and hiking and getting up early. The race started at 6:30 am on a Sunday morning.

Once you’ve seen the other side of something and it’s good, returning to the familiar can be difficult, even when it feels like a relief. Peeking over the fence or flying across the pond in search of something to rattle your bones and shake your worldview might actually do yourself a disservice, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.

Disclaimer: I’ve dropped the F-bomb here several times.

This past weekend a friend and I went to one of the 50 malls in Surabaya to do a bit of shopping. I only just needed to pop into La Senza quickly to pick up a couple of delicates. Sounds simple enough right? But like such things are here it was another trip to the twilight zone.

We are always in the process of reinventing ourselves. Everyday serves as an opportunity to create the person you want to be. Like the old adage goes, today is the first day of the rest of your life. The thing is that I don’t actually know who I want to be. I want to be a writer but what that really means is I want to write.

The best day ever involves two girls with a common thirst for adventure taking their bikes to far-and-away places in Indonesia and then trying to get home.

“All that we are is the result of what we have thought.” - Buddha

Ugh. This best describes how I feel about the dating game, because in all seriousness it is a game. There are guidelines, rules and penalties for those who don’t play “properly” (however ambiguous that word is). There is the right time to text and the wrong time to call. There is a proper amount of time to wait before responding to a message so as to feign disinterest or unavailability.

CAUTION: I’ve used the word NASTY prolifically in this blog, for good reason because no synonym seems to suffice. And, I am going to make some huge generalizations here about “gendered” hygiene, totally culturally specific and from my experience being a woman and living and travelling with boys (and by boys I mean grown men, you know, the ones who put their dirty backpack on the bed!).

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