Then Felipe wakes up. We'd both been dozing in and out of consciousness all afternoon, curled in each other's arms on the deck of this Indonesian fisherman's sailboat. The ocean has been swaying us, the sun shining. While I lie there with my head pillowed on his chest, Felipe tells me that he had an idea while he was sleeping. He says, "You know—I obviously need to keep living in Bali because my business is here, and because it's so close to Australia, where my kids live. I also need to be in Brazil often, because that's where the gemstones are and because I have family there. And you obviously need to be in the United States, because that's where your work is, and that's where your family and friends are. So I was thinking . . . maybe we could try to build a life together that's somehow divided between America, Australia, Brazil and Bali."

All I can do is laugh, because, hey—why not? It just might be crazy enough to work. A life like this might strike some people as absolutely loony, as sheer foolishness, but it resembles me so closely. Of course this is how we should proceed. It feels so familiar already. And I quite like the poetry of his idea, too, I must say. I mean that literally. After this whole year spent exploring the individual and intrepid I's, Felipe has just suggested to me a whole new theory of traveling:

Australia, America, Bali, Brazil = A, A, B, B.

Like a classic poem, like a pair of rhyming couplets.

The little fishing boat anchors right off the shore of Gili Meno. There are no docks here on this island. You have to roll up your pants, jump off the boat and wade in through the surf on your own power. There's absolutely no way to do this without getting soaking wet or even banged up on the coral, but it's worth all the trouble because the beach here is so beautiful, so special. So me and my lover, we take off our shoes, we pile our small bags of belongings on the tops of our heads and we prepare to leap over the edge of that boat together, into the sea.

You know, it's a funny thing. The only Romance language Felipe doesn't happen to speak is Italian. But I go ahead and say it to him anyway, just as we're about to jump. I say: "Attraversiamo."

Let's cross over. Eat, Pray, Love

而后斐利贝醒来。我们俩整整一下午都打着盹，出入于半梦半醒之间，在这艘印尼渔船甲板上，蜷伏在彼此怀里。海洋晃动着我们，阳光闪耀。我的头枕着斐利贝的胸膛，他说他在睡梦中有个想法。他说："你知道——我显然得继续住在巴厘岛，因为我的生意在这里，而且因为这里离我的孩子们住的澳洲很近。我还得经常去巴西，因为那儿是宝石产地，而且我的家人在那里。而你显然得待在美国，因为你在那里工作，而你的亲朋好友也在那里。因此我在想……或许我们该试试共同营造某种在美国、澳洲、巴西和巴厘岛四地之间均分的生活。"

我笑了，因为，嘿——有何不可？事情奏效或许不切实际。某些人也许觉得这种生活是绝对的疯狂而愚蠢，但却是与我如此相像的生活。当然，我们就该这么继续走下去。这个想法感觉已经如此熟悉。而我必须说，我也喜欢他诗意的主意。我是就字义而言。经过一整年探索属于个人、勇往直前的三"I"国家之后，斐利贝建议我有一整套新的旅行学说：

澳洲（Australia），美国（America），巴厘（Bali），巴西（Brazil）=A，A，B，B。

犹如一首古诗，犹如两个押韵对句。

小渔船在美侬岛近岸下锚停泊。这座岛上没有码头。你得卷起裤管，跳下船去，用自己的力量涉浪而过。这么做绝对没办法不变成落汤鸡，也没办法不撞上珊瑚，但这些劳苦却值得，因为这儿的海滩非常美丽，非常特别。于是我和我的情人脱了鞋，把小行李袋顶在头上，准备一块儿从船边一跃入海。

你知道，有趣的是，斐利贝唯一不会说的浪漫语言是意大利语。然而我还是在我们即将跃下时对他说了。

我说："Attraversiamo。"我们过街吧。