The next morning, I wake up in my own bed at the guesthouse and glance over at the bamboo bedside table. The orange business card is really there. It wasn’t a dream.

I have a thought: What if I don’t call him? I’m not coming back to Ubud, so we would never see each other again. He doesn’t have my number. I could go explore the island on my own.

Or, I can take a chance.

I start packing my things to get ready for an adventure either way. My stomach is clinging to my spine. I finally pick up the phone. I have no idea what is on the other side of the day.

Half an hour later, Johann arrives on his motorbike. I walk out to meet him wearing a gauzy white dress with stripes in American flag colors, my long hair still wet from my morning shower. He’s waiting for me in earthy brown harem pants and a t-shirt with a printed Ganesh. His dreadlocks fall halfway down his back. I look at his calmly smiling face for the first time in the sunlight and I’m instantly relieved I called him.

“Bonjour.” He greets me with a kiss on both cheeks.

Now if only I could mount the motorbike gracefully. I can successfully hail a taxi as a tourist in New York City, with an overweight suitcase in one hand and my handbag dangling from the other. But even with just the essentials I feel clumsy getting onto this minimalistic ride. He walks me through it: He sits down first. As I step my left foot on the footrest and hold onto him for support, I awkwardly swing my right leg over the back and basically straddle him from behind. My hands rest tentatively on his waist. I’m not sure what the protocol is here. I feel weird holding tightly onto someone I barely know, but I don’t want to fall off either. With a backpack on my shoulders and another one hanging in front of his legs, we vroom away.

Bali by motorbike is a completely different experience than observing from the window of an air-conditioned car. You feel the culture oozing into your skin. Bright colors of enchanting flowers and traditional costume flash across a backdrop of horizon-less foliage and ancient architecture. Wafts of exhaust fumes rival the immutable bells of ceremony near and afar. The pulse of the lush green wild becomes your own as you slice through the thickness of sweet tropical mist; monkeys pop in and out of traffic.

Traffic here works like the Balinese concept of laws. Lanes are meant to be crossed and stop lights function as decoration. Whoever honks the loudest gets right of way. It’s a democratic racecar track without rules. Motorbikes are the vehicle de rigueur, functioning like magic carpets as they carry everyone and everything from babies to the elderly, pets and wild animals, baskets of food balancing on heads to a hundred dozen un-cracked eggs perched on the rear, snack stands to whole newsstands, or all of the above on one single bike. It’s an art, really.

Johann weaves through this chaotic paradise like it’s his playground. He zips around motorbikes and squeezes between cars. We bump over potholed alleyways, swerving onto sidewalks and beneath canopies of hanging vines. I clutch his waist tighter.

He brakes abruptly. My body jerks into him and my chin lands on his shoulder for a slight moment. I’m sure he can feel my heart lurch forward towards his.

He turns his head. “Are you ok?” He’s shouting over the noise.

I lean closer to his ear. “Yes,” I breathe.

I trust this man already. I know it doesn’t make sense; he could be a psychopath for all I know. But for some unexplainable reason, even though he is a maniac driver, I feel safe. I know he will take care of me.

I become entranced by his hands gripping the handlebars. My god, they look so strong and experienced, all those veins bulging out. Yet gentle and caring, like they know how to treat a woman, like they hold a soft soul inside. I imagine those hands touching me, caressing me, exploring me. The rice fields start to blur.

My hair is billowing behind me, the wind rippling waves through. I feel so light. There is no weight, no baggage, no restrictions of a closed space. I feel like we can go anywhere, do anything. I feel so free.

I smile at him in the mirror as I start to relax. This is a story I’m going to remember forever. Where are we even going? What’s his last name? Who knows! Who cares! Yesterday I never imagined this would be happening right now. For the first time in my life, I have no plans and I’m with a guy I don’t even know. My fears and inhibitions fly away as I close my eyes, soaking in the moment. I’ll just let life take me on its journey.

Next Chapter: The Beach