As you may know, I spent two years in London. You might think that for a frenchy, living on Queen Elizabeth’s island would have depressed my sensitives taste buds. And you would be wrong, oh so wrong my dear reader! London offered me the chance to discover cuisine from everywhere in the world.
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Back home, there is few things that really annoy me. People pushing me in a crowded place and not apologizing. Being late and people who are late. Even if I must admit being late at all my meetings. It’s in my genes, I can’t fight it, it’s my Latin blood! I hate cold espresso, bicycling under the rain and also tomato sauce stain on a white blouse. Let’s not talk about guys in the street asking if I want to grab a drink with them. No. I don’t want to know you. I’m busy and you are scary. Leave. Me. Alone. Please.
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Being on an island could describe the sensation of being trapped, of running around in circles. Like Johnny Cash, you have been everywhere, explored all the caves, inspected under every bushes and walked on every path. All around you is the ocean and you are certain: you have seen it all.
Under the rain or on a sunny day, the island have no mystery for you anymore.
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“I am Muslim!” Said proudly the taxi driver who was driving me from Ubud to Canggu. “And you?”
“Hmmm… I try to take what I think is the best from every religion, but I am not from one confession really!”
The taxi driver didn’t talk to me until the rest of the trip. He looked obviously upset! Whatever is your religion in Indonesia, you HAVE to have one.
The boat I took from Nusa Lembogan to the Gili Islands stopped in Lomboq to unload some passengers. We stayed at the small pier for half an hour because of police control.
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The Wanderlust Queens Project 