It happens. There is a thing called traveler’s sickness – literally – and basically it’s when your body rejects the new bacteria and environment it’s exposed to and freaks out for a moment. I had this experience for the first time at Jiwa Damai.

The day begins with a melancholy air, as the warmhearted yoga retreat group say their goodbyes. They’re all off to their next adventure now, whether it be home or Gili Island. After hugs are passed around, I get to work in the garden. Catherine has her day off, so I weed in the garden alone. I’m feeling a little off today – probably because of the drinking the night before and staying up later than usual. As I’m crouched in the dirt, Kadek comes and joins me. He’s one of the chattier Balinese workers, having a proficient knowledge of English. When he doesn’t remember a word, he uses his hands and tries to explain it until I can guess it. Kadek tells me about how hard he has to work to support his wife and son. He admits he gets lazy sometimes when Margret isn’t around because he’s tired from all the tasks he has to do. After working at Jiwa Damai, he still has his own garden at home to take care of. He tells me that sometimes when you work too hard in the heat, you can get sick and then you can’t work for a few days. This is a bad case to have because he can’t afford to not work. I feel bad hearing this. It’s the first time I’ve seen Kadek – who always seems so happy – share with me the hardship of poverty.

As Kadek speaks to me, I feel my eyes droop and a sort of sleeping spell falls over me. I try so hard to keep my eyes open – I don’t want to be rude. I can’t understand why I feel this sudden lethargy. When it’s time to do the watering, I take the hose and make my rounds in the Mandala Garden and lettuce patch. I feel dizzy and nauseous with each couple steps, and can’t tell if I’m going to throw up. I ignore the feeling and continue watering anyway. I’m relieved when I’m finally done. Max walks over and I report to him that I don’t feel very good. He tells me I’m dehydrated and says to drink water. So I slowly take a seat on the steps of the Lumbung and take a few sips. Then, I feel it coming. I bend over the grass and feel everything I ate that day spill out of me. Max hurries to report to Margret.

I splash some water on my face and tell Margret I’m ok. She asks if I think I’ll be able to come to dinner soon and eat some toast. I tell her after a quick shower I’d come over for dinner. I feel some relief, but a part of me begins to feel a bit dizzy again. While in the shower, the nausea hits me again, and I run out to the bushes in my towel. It happens again as I slowly walk towards the dining area. It hits so fast that my I find myself hanging over the pond, feeding the fish. By this time I know dinner is out of the question. I begin to notice waves of nausea coming in at 15 and 20 minute intervals. It doesn’t stop.

Margret comes and finds me sitting at the Lumbung steps with a water bottle in my hand, feeling helpless. She begins to feel my pressure points and shows me her case of aroma bottles. She has me smell a couple, asking if any smell good to me, but I can’t stomach any of them. Then I get sick again. Margret tells me its time I go to a clinic in Ubud. She can tell I’m trying to be tough but she tells me I’m not being a nuisance (I’m still trying to prove I’m not the diva she initially saw me to be). Her and Max are afraid I may have heat stroke. Margret orders a driver and orders Max to ride with me.

At the clinic I weakly give my case and fill out some paperwork. Strange Japanese music videos play on the TV, which entertains Max for a bit. I keep looking for a quick escape route in case I get sick again. But before I do, I’m summoned into the doctor’s office. I’m asked a series of questions and he concludes I have traveler’s sickness. Max asks if it could be heat stroke, but the doctor replies that heat stroke is much more severe and that I wouldn’t be walking right now. I’m given tablets to treat the symptoms. But for instant relief from my nausea, the doctor suggests I take an injection. I’m nervous about taking an injection in a foreign country, but he assures me that it’s very safe and that it’s often used for pregnant women with morning sickness. Basically, I should take the shot if I wanted to sleep that night. So I give in. But of course my options are to either take it in the ass or in the vein of my inner arm (and I’ve had a fear of shots there since I was little). I complain to Max that I hate hospital stuff and that I can’t even watch Grey’s Anatomy. The doctor jokingly asks if I could handle watching House. Nevertheless, I take the shot in the arm. I lay down and close my eyes, and it’s actually not bad. Max jokes about taking a picture for my mom and I tell him to go for it. I pose for him with my thumbs up.

At the front desk I’m charged about $60 which isn’t too bad (and that’s without the insurance). I’m so glad that after four hours of getting sick it was all over. In bed, I wake to a couple of waves of nausea, but they pass and I go back asleep.

The next day is recovery day. At breakfast, Margret hands me a glass of coconut water and an elixir of water mixed with lime juice and salt to get nutrients and electrolytes back in my system (keep in mind if you get traveler’s sickness). I also nibbled on some toast. My day is spent resting. Sleep is the best medicine.

Before I can hide away to my beckoning bed, a visitor enters Jiwa Damai. It’s the yoga teacher Margret was going to interview today. No one else is around so I’m stuck entertaining her until Margret is ready. She’s a little bit early. She begins asking me questions about my experience here and I try to answer, really not in the mood for this. I must’ve been a sight in my pj’s and with a bandage where I got my injection. I can tell that the girl wasn’t expecting so much quiet at Jiwa Damai. She seems restless, reminding me of how I felt when I had first arrived here at Jiwa Damai. Thank god the yoga group was here when I arrived, otherwise I might not have stayed. And I’m so glad I stayed.

I’m relieved when Margret makes her way over. I escape to my bed and pass out for hours. I only wake up for a delicious lunch of a bowl of rice. Margret reports that the yoga girl didn’t make it. She starts asking me if I could lead yoga classes. I’ve never done it before, but I begin to consider it. Her insistence begins to inspire me into saying yes. Glory left me her notes on the yoga sequences after all.

Since the yoga group is gone, Margret tells us we’re going to start having meditation as a group every evening at six. Tonight is our first night. We sit on green pillows in a circle and listen Margret give us directions to look into our hearts. I can’t focus at all. Then, right in the middle of our quiet meditation, a gecko on the ceiling above us starts making its loud, burbing calls and I almost burst out laughing. I manage to keep myself in control, although I feel a huge grin creep across my face and have to hold my breath for a second.

Dinner is so strange with only Margret, Max, Cat and I now. It basically consists of Margret talking and the rest of us staying quiet. I can tell Margret is happy about the peace and quiet after the departure of the yoga group. But I think she can sense that the rest of us need more stimulation because she asks us to let her know if we ever wanted to watch a movie and she could set up the projector for us. Although her movie library consists of just educational movies and Michael Jackson’s This Is It.

After dinner, Max, Cat and I lounge on the white couches while Cat shows us her movie library on her iPad. We end up chatting until it’s time to go to bed. I’m interested to see how this shift in Jiwa Damai’s atmoshpere will pan out.