zimatravels

The following is an excerpt from my book, Memoirs of a Middle-aged Hummingbird, published in 2006.  It was my travel journal entry for Feb. 1, 1989.

Now, in the Asian New Year, the spirits of the ancestors return to the family shrine.  As I sit outside at midnight eating a croissant and drinking a superb banana lassi, yogurt, I idly wonder if my ancestors could ever find me.  Would they think to look on the idyllic isle of Bali in a 2nd floor room overlooking rice paddies in Ubud?  Would they find me sitting amongst the symphony of thousands of night sounds, with the flame of a candle nudged by the soft breeze throwing a halo around the face of a small statue blending a Buddhist and a Hindu god?

I am lonely tonight.  I would like someone I love to share this place with me.  And yet I feel so very, very fortunate that I have lived and experienced the high joy of my China life, and the absolutely exquisite existence of Bali — one experience following closely upon the other.  It is a rare happiness in one lifetime.

So, ancestors mine, seek me out for I am in and of this world still.

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