BRB, RETREAT

Bali mornings are my favorite kind of mornings.

I wake up early, before Zoë even stirs, and take a swim in our patio pool. I watch the sunrise over the ocean, bringing colors I've never even seen before. Sometimes I video chat with Josh, who's usually getting ready for dinner or hitting happy hour with his office buddies. Man looks good in a suit!

My feet leave wet prints on the dry stone as I climb out of the pool and grab my towel from the chaise lounge. Zoë's crystal set is still spread out on the table. That's her new thing –crystals.

I towel dry my hair and then reach for my phone to check. Force of habit.

Nothing new since the last time you looked, Em. It's been 17 minutes for fuck's sake.

Zoë and I dress for the day and walk the winding cobblestones from our bungalow to the main pool patio. Fruits are freshly squeezed tableside as we eat our way through the complimentary continental breakfast. A girl could get used to this lifestyle and a half.

"Mmm. This coconut today," Zoë says dreamily. "To die for."

I peek from under my floppy straw hat (I know I'm basic, call the cops) and spot the fleshy white fruit on her plate. "This coconut every day though." I agree.

I flip open my tablet cover and power it on to check Go Zen's online registration numbers –another thing I do every morning now.

"How many new?" Zoë asks, retying her head scarf.

"Umm," I draw out, counting the names in my head. "Twenty-seven."

"Since yesterday?" Zoë asks, eyes wide. "Damn. What did I say about online classes?"

"That people are lazy as shit and would do yoga if it meant watching a video and they never have to leave their living room." I recall almost her exact argument. "Or get dressed."

"Exactly." Zoë sips on her green smoothie.

"Gotta love it," I laugh.

"Now put that tablet away and enjoy the view," Zoë chastises me.

"Emails don't check themselves," I shrug.

"So don't check them. Whatever happened to away messages? Like in middle school," Zoë asks.

"Like color coded, all-the-angst away messages on AIM?" I laugh.

"Exactly. Just say... BRB. Retreat." Zoë laughs. She forks a mango cube and pops it into her mouth. "What's first on the schedule today?"

I exit out of the online registration page and pull up the itinerary for Bali's Breezy Ease Yoga Retreat. I flip past the first week and scroll down to day 8 of 10.

"Looks like aerial yoga in the AM and then meditation at the infinity pool after lunch," I tell her.

"Love the infinity pool," Zoë says.

"Can't believe there's only 3 days left. Flew by," I sigh, sipping my mini cappuccino.

The perfect smell of warm coffee cripples me and I think of Paris, of the plane ticket I never used. Fuck my dream last night.

We queue up like ants ready to snake their way up the rocky mountainside to the infinity pool at the top. It's not actually rocky. I mean there's a pathway and some automatic fans and a legit shuttle bus that does all the work for us. We are here for yoga after all, not hiking. Can't be too outdoorsy.

Zoë and I are the first off the open-window golfcart shuttle. There's already a group of people milling around the airy thatched hut that overlooks the ocean. It's got shelves of weights and clusters of medicine balls and a pile of community yoga mats in the corner. I pull my own coral mat from inside my recycled tote and lay it in my usual spot on the platform.

Khloe, Breezy's lead retreat instructor, is already rounding everyone up to start.

We store our bags and phones and sandals in the bamboo cubby wall. I pour two cups of the cucumber water that's chilling on top of the front table. Zoë takes it graciously.

"Last night's wine starting to hit me," Zoë says, gulping down her water.

"Hey, the wine was your idea." I tell her. "At least you weren't up until 3 AM. That was just my dumb ass."

Paris.

Fuck.

I start mimicking Khloe's pre-yoga stretch and my mind instantly relaxes in search for its inner peace. I cannot control everything, and my silly recurring dream is one of those things. It doesn't mean anything. It's just what a lost part of me once wanted.

The turquoise sea flashes in my peripherals as I change positions. It's the exact shade of my sports bra and capri leggings. A sign, because when you're me, everything's a sign.

Bali > Paris

"Everyone line up for meditation," Khloe says.

She pulls her glossy hair into a tight bun and I can see every single muscle imaginable in her arms. My arm crush 100%.

"Hey girlies, can we join?"

"Of course," Zoë says.

"Hi guys." I smile, happy for some reason to stop thinking about sexy French cities and sexier muscly arms.

Two girls join our little corner of the yoga platform.  We met Courtney and Li Li on our second day in Bali. They co-own a yoga studio in LA that's always swimming with the latest stars. My stomach does a mini somersault thinking about the City of Angels.