My good pal from high school, Max, and I were lucky to find a round-trip ticket to Bali, Indonesia for only $809. But that also meant we had two stops along the way: one in the Philippines and another in Singapore. Each carrying only a small duffle bag and a backpack, we leave the airport in Los Angeles, California late in the evening in anticipation for 23 hours of travel. Fortunately, breaking it up into these two stops make the flight much easier.

There is a pleasant surprise waiting for us in Singapore. Arriving at an unusually early (or late?) hour, Max and I wander the incredibly empty airport. Its lack in people makes the airport feel even larger. We stumble upon a little butterfly garden, quietly nestled before the bustle of airport shops. I can’t believe it. A butterfly garden in an airport? The serenity of the place almost makes me forget about catching our next flight. I feel as if it’s a teaser for the destination that awaits us: Jiwa Damai.

The best part of our flight is flying above Singapore and the Indonesian islands. Peering down at the land formations reminds me of the images I would see in magazines, except for now I was actually seeing it for myself. I could see the separation between the island and the sand underwater, and how the ocean level gradually got deeper. The water was so clear, yet produced a luminous aqua tone. It even looked warm.

Getting off the plane and out of the airport, we are introduced to the chaotic roads of Bali and the sneaky people who try to get money out of you. After filtering through several men trying to get us in our cab, we find our driver sent by Jiwa Damai, Agung. At first I thought Agung was an extremely aggressive driver. Then I realize everyone drives the way he does in the busiest part of the Balinese roads. Despite the chaos of trucks, motorbikes, and vans fighting for the road (I swear it’s just a race to get in front of everybody), there is a sense of peace. Intermittent temple-like buildings and glimpses of fields and jungle make me feel as if I am in another world.

And I am.

Agung takes us away from the busy roads, down random alleys and to this quiet paradise. We have arrived to Jiwa Damai, Organic Garden and Retreat Center, where we will be volunteering for the next 4 weeks. We walk down a path into this jungle garden where a yoga retreat is in the middle of a session. Margret, the woman in charge, calmly walks over to us and introduces herself to us, along with the other volunteer, Catherine. We are also greeted by three dogs, the guardians of this establishment. The dogs warily follow us as Margret gives us a tour.

Margret asks us if we’re thirsty. We both say yes, having had trouble finding places to refill our water bottles in both airports. We are very dehydrated. Margret calls over Lana, one of the Balinese coworkers. She asks him to split a coconut for us. He does so with a machete right in front of us and pours the contents into two glasses. I’ve never had fresh coconut water before. One sip and I’m a fan forever. It is both sweet and refreshing. I immediately feel it replenish my thirsty body and gulp it down with pleasure. What a great way to start my stay in Jiwa Damai.

This place is surreal. Looking above my head, palm trees surround the property, kissing the sky. All I see is green jungle fauna, with no sign of a world outside of Jiwa Damai besides animal sounds coming from the neighbors. Yet there is still a hush to the place. Here you are a part of the jungle and the tranquil energy of Jiwa Damai. I have stepped into a new world. It isn’t perfect of course. The garden shed and tools are run down and inhabited by bugs. You can see that the property is at the mercy of the outside environment, versus the other way around that I’m used to back at home.

Margret asks Max and I if we’d like to stay in the Lumbung, which is like a treehouse with a roof and mosquito netting instead of walls. She says that the only condition is that we would have to share our space with a cat named Ochid, who lives there too. I’m all over it, caught up with the surrealness of it all. Then I find out that it is infested with spider eggs and that the nets are covered with holes. I then crave a room (rather than a tent) where I can lay out my belongings, have my own bed, and escape. I realize I’m going to be spending most of my time here outdoors anyway.

We have peanut curry tempe, vegetables and rice for dinner. The food is amazing. Max and I start asking Catherine about her experience here at Jiwa Damai.  Catherine talks about the serenity, extreme calmness of this place. Mostly we work in the garden. Otherwise there’s not much else around here except for yoga with the retreat people at 6 in the morning. She talks about how the volunteer before us left after 3 days because it was too calm for him. I’m having a minor freakout that it may be too calm for me too. I’m having some doubts. What if I’m a poser? I’m afraid that I may like the idea, but that actually spending a month of isolation will drive me a little crazy.

But then I know that I’m supposed to grow from this experience. How can I say that I’m going to do the 500 mile hike on the Camino de Santiago next summer if I can’t do this? I’ve had new and uncomfortable experiences, but nothing like this. I need this. And I don’t think it’s even the bugs, or the lack of hygiene or the hard work that is worrying me so much (although it does add up). I think its just having to fill my time with other things to do in such a small place, with soon to be not many people – the yoga retreat is only for one more week – in an isolated location. I know how restless I get. I’ve heard about Bali from people who’ve had completely different experiences. People who stayed in touristy spots in their bubbles of paradise. But now I’m having my own experience. The real native experience.

I accept the challenge.

So here I am, my first night here sleeping in the Lumbung where the chattiest cat I know lives and cuddles with us. (Margret says to try out the Lumbung room for the first night.) I think Ochid likes Max better than me.