It’s been just over a month since I’ve returned from Bali, where I recently spent a majority of my month of May.  One week, I worked harder than I have possibly ever worked before, directing a conference of 300 people, and somehow managing to block out everything “Bali”.  It was easier knowing that after the Summit ended I would have some time to finally soak it all in.  So the week that followed was spent lounging in luxury resorts, practicing being a caffeine-free vegetarian (only the caffeine-free part has stuck) and enjoying massages every other day.  Those two consecutive weeks couldn’t have been more opposite from one another.  The first was rewarding and the second was much needed.

On the way back from Bali I ate something undetectably horrible and I was suddenly and very much sick for a better part of the long haul flight from Hong Kong to Vancouver.  And the decision to take a sleeping pill had made it even worse.  Sleeping pills always warn against operating heavy machinery but they never mentioned that basic operations of your own body would be so difficult.  I did eventually make it back to NY and up the four flights of stairs and into my bed – and that is where I stayed for the next 30 hours.

Holed up in my apartment, I was sheltered from the outside world.  I was up at 2am and back asleep by 9am. That Monday (Memorial Day) I managed a visit to the grocery store at 8am, but successfully avoided the mad rush at the grocery store during prime time hours and had to dodge only a few early risers who were as non-confrontational as I.  We all seemed rather peaceful in our early morning activities.

Tuesday morning I was back at the office.  Same thing on Wednesday, Thursday… and so on.  I’ve gotten over the jet lag but something is still not quite right.  You would have thought that going from New York to Bali would have been an adjustment, but coming back has seemed harder.  The city is tough and mean and ruthless.  People are introverted and are protective of their smiles.  Some people say I am still working back into my routine, but I was spoiled by Bali.  Not by the spa treatments, the canopy beds, and the beachside cabanas but by the people, who made me feel as though I had lived there for years. This September, I will have lived in the city for five years and, strangely enough, it still doesn’t feel quite like home.