Here I was, walking along the beach in Bali, looking at the huge kites in the sky when I started to notice that everyone around me was speaking French. Was I dreaming? I thought I had left it all. That’s when it dawned on me: I was walking in front of the Club Med resort in Bali. So much for thinking that old Europe was far, far away. Simply put, I was in my very own French bubble in the middle of Bali. It felt familiar, and odd at the same time.
I quickly noticed a pattern of behaviours that I knew all too well:
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the hotel had a running club. I didn’t know what to expect, because apparently they had just started it. Me being me, I was wondering whether I would be too slow. I really needed to stop being scared, but that was another story. I decided to give it a try.
I didn’t manage to get up the first day. 7.30 am was simply far too early for me, because I was still jet-lagged and had finally fallen asleep around 5 am. I managed to get up the second day. As usual, I was at least 10 minutes in advance. That, again, was just me: I might be French but I have always hated being late.
The Balinese instructor’s, Elit, arrived shortly afterwards. We were also joined by an Autralian guy, and by a British lady from Hong-Kong. Elit showed us some stretches, and we swiftly walked to the beach.
We started running. In fact, we started jogging. This was a little bit faster than a walk, but not by much. What a relief! Elit explained to us that his knee was playing up a bit, and he had to start slow. Fine by me.