Sumatra on the back of a motorcycle

It's amazing when you get eat exactly what you were craving in a foreign country. It's amazing when you meet people who want to drive you all over the place on their motorcycle, to their favorite panoramas and restaurants.
and it's ironic, that my name in Bahasa Indonesian means ''good smell''.

A backpack is definitely necessary when traveling through Sumatra on motorcycle, and again since my boat ride to the Gili Islands am I so grateful I have my 40 liter backpack and not a suitcase. Two of my biggest dreams are being lived, one of spontaneously living with my home on my shoulders, and another of exploring a country not in the confines of a car, but in the wind that motorcycles provide.

Today I went on a trek through tropical jungle to see the Rufflesia flower, the biggest flower in the world, and it was well worth the following condition of wet shoes for the rest of the day, mud in my shoes from the rice paddies we had to walk through in order to get there, and the steep climb through canyons.

I smelled coffee today (my god) at a traditional mill that we went to, and I'm learning that I can make people smile with my eyes,
because the locals here look you straight open into them, and thus a warmth can be communicated. This is something I'm definitely adding to the list of things I want to bring back to my culture. Which brings me to an interesting continuation of this pilgrimage to the center of myself. I have been telling people I'm from Korea, a) because a lot of people hate Americans here and b) even if I tell them I'm from America, they look at me funny until I say that I am from Korea. This explanation of myself has made me realize that I am a person divided (perhaps an temporary explanation of my obsession with train stations and liminality). After my time Korea, I know it to be true that my self and my heart live in opposite sides of the world while always living inside me. I know that I will always go back, and that I finally have the sense of family that I've been deeply hungry for all these years. I know that I have finally drawn my map, and that I can present a searching voice with some peace, which has been the main focus of this trip.
I'm realizing that Korea was full of turmoil and anxiety, all of it that I'm feeling now with this quiet and solitude. It keeps me awake at night (along with the mosque singing) and so I try to spend my days feeding beauty to those two huge emotions, to go see brilliance in order to say that I love both of them, and that they are free to go, free to be accepted, free to be taken care of. I'm not sure how it's going yet, but I feel a certain sense of quiet in me today.
For every moment of exalt, of stunning beauty, of tumult and pain, I am still feeling grateful.

As with most places with mind-gripping poverty, there is such magnificence here if you dig deep enough. Especially in all the villages I passed today on the back of my friend's motorcycle who, has for some reason, nicknamed himself banana.