Five or six days of headache now. Masuk angin, entered by the wind. Or maybe it's just the unusually oppressive humidity. Cloudy days, hot, airless.
I've decided I should get on a regular schedule by coming to the beach cafe every morning--the closest thing I can figure to the old Starbucks routine back in Portland. When I write I need to be purposeful--to go somewhere and stay somewhere with the express purpose of producing something. Otherwise I either procrastinate or end up doing chores for my wife.
It is 9 o'clock in the morning. I took my son by motorbike to Denpassar at 6:45, then came down here to the beach and ordered Kopi Bali. The tide is in and there are anchored boats bobbing just off the shore, and there are people swimming already. The cafe I am at is on the main promenade that stretches from one end of Sanur to the other. This is where the hotels are, standing side by side like whale watchers, and so this is where the American and European tourists stroll, or jog (God knows why). This is where you find old men in Speedoes, large women spilling from swimsuits made for smaller, more shapely occupants, yesterday's sunburns, poodles on leashes. And such like.
Well, the headache seems to have reached the point of incapacitation, and so I will head home, pulang, and write another day.