Jen Sincero is the Bestselling author of “The Straight Girl’s Guide to Sleeping With Chicks,” and the semi-autobiographical novel “Don’t Sleep With Your Drummer,” which was optioned by both HBO and Oxygen. She is a writing coach, a life coach a public speaker and a world traveler who is presently home-free and blogging about her adventures right here on this very blog.
After living high on the hog for over a week in my jungle palace, I’m heading down the hill into town where there are less frogs, more restaurants and I’ll have to share a pool.
I celebrated a successful morning of writing seeing just how waterproof my non-waterproof camera is.
Tags: bali, Pita Maha resort, swimming, ubud, Writing
So, after the extremely satisfying task of express mailing my signed contract for Book #3 off to my agent in NY…
I'm in the mountains of Bali and this will be on my agent's desk in NYC in 3 days?! Humans really can be so impressive sometimes.
…I’m on my way back from the supermarket, winding my way down a cute little shoppy street and accidentally hobble right into The Monkey Forest (didn’t realize where I was) with a bagful of bananas.
Doh!
A blurry minute of shredded plastic and flying bananas later, I’m whisked off to my hotel on the back of a motorcycle taxi.
I would now like to officially thank The Universe for its continued support in the writing of my soon-to-be Bestselling book in the following ways:
1.) Providing me with Blimpy, The Ankle.
2.) Unleashing torrential downpours every time I’m writing and attempt to get up and procrastinate. Every time. Seriously, I even think of going out to get a bowl of something called something like bebek betutu when I’m not really even that hungry or take a swim or go see if I can’t round up some more of them sweet smelling flowers and the skies open up. It’s honestly a little creepy.
3.) Sicking a gang of monkeys on me when I attempt to turn a quick trip into town to mail off my contract into a massive shopping bender even though my ankle feels like lots of tiny teeth are chewing on it. And it has, of course, suddenly started to rain.
4.) Shutting down the entire island of Bali today for Nyebi (Hindu New Years), making it basically illegal for me to do anything other than write.
I’m scared if I take a whole day off I’ll go blind.
Tags: bali, Bestselling book, literary agent, monkey forest, monkeys, NYC, Nyepi, ubud, Writing
My new pal, Adi (whose name is definitely spelled wrong), the assistant manager of the Pita Maha Resort where I’m presently staying, drove me around the little villages outside of Ubud so I could look for houses to rent. And meet his wife and kids.
Got myself a schmooftie room at his hotel with my own pool to hang out by while my ankle heals and I, ahem, write my book.
He explained that the ladies walking by with 80 pounds of fruit on their heads were making offerings to the gods for Nyepi, or The Day of Silence, or the Hindu New Year or The Day That White People Find Themselves In Bali With Nothing To Do.
On March 23rd for Nyepi, the entire island closes down, including ports and harbors, and nobody is allowed on the street, to turn on lights, light fires, work, play, nothin – all must focus on spiritual inspection.
On the night before Nyepi (New Years Eve), all the villages perform an exorcism of sorts, letting the ogog-ogoh monster and all their other demons run amok in some sort of evil, scary parade.
Ogog-ogoh getting ready for his big night on the town.
Sort of like what we do in the U.S.A., proving once again that cultures are kind of the same all around the world.
Tags: bali, Hinduism, New Years, Nyepi, Ogog-Ogoh, pengerupukan, Pita Maha resort
I almost didn’t come to Bali.
In my opinion, Bali is for amateurs. Everyone who has a yoga mat and a passport and a mid life crisis has been to Bali.
Plus, if I hear one more person utter the words Eat, Pray, or Love in reference to my life I’m going to start screaming and never stop.
I’m so much more original than all that.
So much more adventurous.
Way cooler, thank you very much.
Luckily, I realized that these are really stupid reasons to not visit what I have quickly come to recognize as paradise (please see my Huffington Post article on the ill effects of pride and general egomaniacal fatheadedness), and am so in love with this place I spent all day yesterday looking for houses to rent.
Hi! I'm an idiot!
Alam Indah Hotel, Ubud
3 Brothers Inn, Legian
Pita Maha Resort, Ubud
Bali is all about the things I love like beaches and monkey jungles and temples and nice people and outdoor showers and sweet smelling flowers and never getting cold and not in the way L.A. pretends to never get cold but REALLY never getting cold and coral reefs and great food and I’m so inspired to write my book here I could weep.
Jungle Office #33: Alam Indah Hotel, Ubud Bali
Plus, Eat, Pray, Love wasn’t soooo bad.
AND, speaking of my book, and my impending Balinese residency that has me wanting to do nothing but explore every last monkey crack and crevice of this place – The Universe has generously stepped in and provided me with the perfect ankle injury to make sure I actually sit my ass down to write the damn thing instead.
An injury that reportedly won’t fully heal for several months, which is how long it takes to write a book.
An injury that even revered Balinese healers can’t heal (because he got the memo from The Universe perhaps? Or from my agent?)
This seemingly mystical exchange was so fucking painful it's a miracle I didn't kick him in the beard.
An injury that has also provided the perfect material for the intro of my book, which is all about how we have already been given exactly what we need to live the lives we love, if only we’d change how we look at things.
It’s also why every shot on this page is of the many hotels I’ve stayed at. Me and Club Foot Jones don’t get out much, but I really don’t care because I live here now and can see it later.
Tags: 3 brothers inn, alam indah hotel, ankle injury, bali, book publishing, eat pray love, legian, Los Angeles, monkey jungle, pita maha hotel, Travel, ubud, Writing
One of the casualties of my beloved no-set-plan traveling is there are often few to zero good seats left by the time I choose where I’m going next, and first-class prices by that time are usually a full-on fuggetaboutit.
Up until a week ago I was planning to go to Sri Lanka instead of Bali, and my last minute switcheroo was muchly complicated by the fact that I sprained the hell out of my ankle hiking through Australia’s jungley bits.
I really needed a seat where I could move it around and keep the blood pumping through as it’s now so swollen it looks like the ankle of an 80 year-old Polish immigrant grandmother.
So I decide to play the pity card and see if I can’t get myself in the roomy emergency exit row, but the lady at the check-in counter informs me I can’t sit there with an injury and here’s your last-minute, last-row, middle seat assignment, Ms. Lateyface.
Duh.
So I hobble through security, slip into the bathroom, discard my ace bandage and approach the nice lady at the gate doing my best not to walk like I have a rake up my ass to see if I can please have an exit row seat. I’m 6’1” you see. I really need the extra leg room. Plus I have really strong ankles.
The thought did cross my mind that what if we did indeed have an emergency landing and countless innocent people perished due to my big baked potato foot being in their way of a safe exit? Or that I’d be arrested for attempting such a selfish crime. Or that I’d get busted by stupidly posting it on my blog which is why I’m not telling you what happened.
I got said balloon foot whilst on a hiking, wine tasting and kangaroo spotting excursion with Ashlee after an awesome evening out on the town with her stunning partner, Brad, who I only seem to have this semi- lousy picture of:
Luckily we were only about 40 minutes in when I fell on my face and had to hop back through the tangled path with Ashlee’s tights wrapped around my foot.
We were then forced to spend the sunny afternoon at Sticks Vineyard in the Yarra Valley picnicking on wine and cheese.
We even saw several, if extremely, distant, kangaroos on the way home.
Tags: Australia, bush, federal offenses, flying, Melbourne, sticks vineyard, twisted ankles, wine tasting, Yarra valley
Here’s a little story that should raise the hair on your arms.
I decide it’s time for me to see New Zealand and visit my pal Nancy and I think to myself I think, self, we can’t be down under and not visit Ashlee in Australia.
Ashlee is someone I shared an apartment with a million years ago (1989 to be exact) when I lived in Barcelona and who I could tell a million stories about things like stowing away on trains and accidentally having cat food for dinner because we couldn’t read the labels on the cans yet but I’d like to get to the arm hair part here so suffice it to say she’s a true kindred spirit, a bright shiny light, fun with a capital F.
I hadn’t spoken to or been in contact with in over a decade, so I attempt to track her down and within an hour am fully discouraged because it’s kind of a common name and she’s not on the almighty Facebook.
30 minutes after I put down my search, I get an email from her. I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM HER IN 10 YEARS AND WITHIN THE SAME 30 MINUTES….
I love it when that happens.
So here we are at her place in Melbourne with dog, son and kimonos.
Downtown Melbourne, where muggles shop:
I put 2 major dings on my traveling the world card by purchasing somethings no one should travel the world without: A painting….
And a ukulele.
The dog looks miserable for a reason
I’m rushing off to the airport to catch my flight to Bali but will post more about Melbourne and how I nearly had to be airlifted out of the bush when I land….
Tags: Australia, bali, barcelona, Melbourne, tombo, Travel, ukulele
Airports. I luv em! I really do, I find them infinitely exciting, all these people from all over the world about to share in the staggering miracle of flight and exploration of foreign lands.
And, when you’re in the Auckland Airport, mandatory chillaxin if your gate hasn’t been chosen yet:
Auckland Airport even backs up its demand by littering the waiting areas with big comfy chairs and footrests. Thanks New Zealand, don’t mind if I do!
Sydney airport, on the other hand, could use some pointers in this department. It too offers big comfy chairs and free wifi, but you can’t use it if you’re a pornographer like myself apparently.
When I tried to log into this blog to do a little updating, I got this:
Sorry, but jensincero.com is blocked on this network.
This site was categorized in: Pornography.
Contact your network administrator.
Hey! Network administrator! Lighten up! I run a clean show over here! That ain’t no way to treat a lady visitor to your country.
Relax indeed.
Tags: airports, Auckland, Australia, international travel, New Zealand, pornography, sydney, Travel
Me feeling extremely self-satisfied about my situation, only to be soaked to the bone and nearly swept off to sea moments later.
Less than a week ago (really??!) I landed in the home of my dear pal, Nancy Irvine, in Auckland, New Zealand. Nancy and I worked together at CBS Records/Sony Music in NYC back in the days when we could stay awake past 11pm and order enough sushi on the corporate credit card to sink a record company.
Nancy, her boys, their pigs
We took a little road trip to a beach house in a place called Whangapoua (pronounced Fongapoouh), where we spent a blissful couple of days surrounded by rolling hills, sheep, blue green sea and jungle on one of the best decks I’ve ever cocktail houred on.
I’ve never been to New Zealand before and had no idea how insanely beautiful it is. Everywhere you turn. It’s like, really New Zealand? ANOTHER perfect beach? Don’t you have anything better to do?
Whangapoua Beach
On our way to New Chums Beach
We walked down our perfect beach, through an extremely muddy jungle over to New Chums Beach, which is touted as one of the Top 20 Beaches in the World – a title that seems rather unnecessarily celebratory in a country where the coastline that runs along the freeway could bring a person to tears.
I’m in New Zealand on a world-wide quest in search of the perfect place to write my new book, and have already started taking notes for my follow-up book which will apparently be all about my search for the perfect place to write my new book. And all the books to follow.
A search that I’ll be on for a lifetime if all goes according to plan.
Hokey Pokey ice cream in Kaituna. I don't know what any of that means.
Tags: Auckland, CBS Records, New Chums Beach, New Zealand, NYC, Sony Music, Travel, Whangapoua
I arrived in New Zealand after a 20 hour-ish journey from Los Angeles last night and felt just fine about it.
And here’s why:
I don’t know what the hell this stuff is, but 4 drops under the tongue as many times a day as you can remember of the Five Flower Formula, and 40 drops in some water 4 times a day of the Rhodiola and I’m feeling like I skipped around the block and wound up in Auckland.
As a seasoned hippie and someone who’s always shied away from taking drugs that don’t do anything fun to you, I’ve tried many an herbal remedy over the years to cure my ills.
And honestly, most of the time, they didn’t do nuthin.
But I am totally blown away by these two potions so I thought I’d share.
Also, while en route, drink craploads of water, immediately adapt to the time zone of wherever you’re going (force yourself to stay awake or go to sleep when you get on the plane),
I'm awake. I'm so awake it's not even funny.
lay off the booze and eat as healthy as you possibly can.
Green smoothies and Aunt Margaret's Tuna bean salad with my pal Nanooch Molinooch.
We’re heading off to Whangapoua Beach where I am told the beauty will leave me sobbing in a heap of heartbreaking awe. So far I give NZ an A+.
Office #32: Nancy's front porch, Auckland, NZ
Tags: Auckland, drugs, jet lag, New Zealand, Rhodiola, Travel, whangapoua beach
In 2002 I published my very first book:
Today I’m inspired to talk about my dear old book because this week, in 2012, it appears in Oprah Magazine. Page 131 to be exact.
Look closely and you can see my mother holding it up.
I’m the blur on the bottom left. As I mentioned in my recent TEDx Talk, one fear I had around deciding to cut the cord and live the home-free lifestyle was what the hell is gonna happen to my mail?
Because I have the sweetest mother (who is still talking to me even after posting a picture of her in bed in her robe w/o make-up on in the aforementioned TEDx talk), she has now become my postmistress.
And she is constantly forced to get in front of her computer, fire up Skype, and hold up photos of my friends on the Christmas cards that were forwarded to her house, read aloud to me from the DMV about my upcoming car registration and yesterday, hold up O Magazine so I could get a screen shot because I refuse to buy it and lug it all over the globe with me.
A bit higher. Great, now move to the right.
Here?
A little farther. Perfect! Wait, it’s blurry. Let me try again. You moved!
Sorry.
Back to the left. Good.
My arms hurt. I’m putting this down.
It took us a good ten minutes and much blood loss in my mother’s arms to get a rather crappy picture of it, but the important thing is IT EXISTS! My little book that could keeps on keeping on!
And now it’s not only being talked about on page 131 by Malin Akerman in Oprah Magazine, but they’re taking an excerpt from it for an APP they’re making for the new iPad – doot doo doo!
So for all of you out there who are too lazy or scared to get off your asses and write your books or start a band or paint a picture or quit your job and start your own business…
Do it.
Because opportunity is out there whether you decide to show up or not.
And if you don’t show up, it’ll just go to someone else.
And one day a very lovely and very Swedish actress may be blabbing about you in a very O magazine.
Tags: books, don't sleep with your drummer, Malin Akerman, O Magazine, Oprah, TEDx, Writing
