[1QuirkyKiwi]

My recent trip away over Easter with just me and my Backpack brought back memories of when I did a lot of Backpacking in my early 20s for work and pleasure. My fondest memories are of my time in Indonesia, Backpacking with a belly! LOL!

I am fat! I have belly that wobbles when I walk and a bum that echoes my movements. Don’t get me wrong, this is not some life-altering confession a la alcoholics anonymous: Rather, it’s an easy way for you to picture me, climbing up a rope, bum over end into the back of a rocking Indonesian fishing boat, desperately trying not to bounce into the propeller and retain,….. well, at least a crumb of dignity. I have a plus-size body….. Backpacking is always adventurous but it takes on many new twists when a plus-size body, SBO and crutches meets rickety transport, bamboo bridges, and tiny locals who find all westernised people… let alone those with wobbly bellies….. startling!

Let’s take the tiny upright women of central Lombok who are less than half my size. Whether in the multi-coloured chaos of the local markets, the golden rice fields, or the white washed lanes of small villages, my appearance invariably produces animated discussions in Sasak and wild gestures toward me. The boldest of the group comes up to me and slaps my thick arm, uttering more exclamations. Gestures of eating, offers of rice follow.... One old woman pats her hips, expands them large with her hands and then follows her breasts, producing proportions that would make Dolly Parton proud! LOL! The message is always the same; a good breeder. The scene is replayed throughout the islands Polynesia, the Caribbean and southern Europe…

Size is frankly acknowledged and appreciated….. a refreshing change from the weight police. When I learned how to thresh rice, the women circled my waist with their hands and said, “Stay! You are a good worker!” “ But I would eat too much rice, and then there would be more work.” I replied. “Ah yes!” The women nod sagely, ever the wise housekeepers. The Indonesians always appreciated my pride when I come back from a day clambering around the fields with and without my crutches, knowing that I did the best work I could.

They can imagine how hard it is at my size to avoid falling, breaking a delicate bamboo bridge or slipping down a muddy slope. The only murmur of discontent . . . and more often riotous laughter . . . was on local transport, where a combination of my size and innate clumsiness could have proved disastrous. I took up three seats, and with my legs up to my chin, a huge backpack, crutches and my late beloved cat, it took a while to untangle me! LOL! My most fervent wish when squashing past startled locals in their tiny minivans, aiming for an unlikely looking space at the back, is: “Please don’t let me get stuck!” LOL!