Strays of Bali

The island here is a place people call Paradise, but the secrets begin to surface itself as I continue to spend more time here. More than its beautiful rice fields and endless oceans, the island sits above a different undertone, one that is evident in the sad eyes of stray dogs and even in the hearts of our lonely wanderers.

One of the first things I noticed here was the stray dogs roaming the streets: through the alleyways, spread out all over the beaches, and sometimes right in the middle of the bustling streets. I notice some digging for scraps, lingering outside and inside restaurants with desperate eyes, trailing after anyone that might offer an act of kindness.

*While dining with a friend in a local Indonesian restaurant, I looked on as she fed a dog some of the pieces of chicken from her plate. She said she felt sorry for the dog and that she wasn’t going to finish her food, anyway. Yet, the dog returned again and again, and eventually stayed by her side, because she had unintentionally trained it to believe she would feed its hunger. The initial pity turned to a slight irritation—a moment of loving kindness, it seemed, had only encouraged its hunger and desperation for more. *

I couldn’t help but draw connections to the relationships that I’ve had myself.

Where I must have been so desperate or hungry for love, that scraps of it felt like someone was giving me the world. I would latch onto these scraps and hold on for dear life, but we all know that nothing ever stays that way. I imagined myself as the pup, coming back for more, staying by my partner’s side and waiting for any bit of affection that might fill my loneliness even if it was only crumbs. I find myself relating to these lonely hearts because it wasn’t long ago that I felt like I was one of them.