It’s hard to adjust to life in a civilised world after a month on an island. Even as much a double-decker bus can catch you off guard when the most technology you’ve seen for four weeks were Honda scooters. It’s difficult to get accustomed to a weather difference of 30 degrees Celsius, no fruit, and – oh my! – no infinity pool outside your bedroom door. (Also, no ants crawling up your ankles or geckos the size of a shoe decorating your walls and screaming at night. To-ckay. To-ckay.)
Still.
In Bali, I felt easy. Light. I could work, or I could decide to wing it. I could read or explore the island on my Honda scooter or spend the day chatting with friends. It felt like heaven, indeed.
Two weeks in, I remember thinking, “Wow, so I am not an overly ambitious control freak! I can be lazy. Look! Look!”
Sure, you could say, “it was a vacation.” But it wasn’t. Not all of it, at least. I’ve worked in Bali for the past two weeks and met people who live there full-time and work remotely. And while I don’t want to live in Bali – the cons still outweigh the pros – I want to keep that sense of lightness back in London.
Is that at all possible?
Back at home – in what my mother calls The Real World – each day is filled with errands that come out of nowhere, only to be replaced with a new stream of chores and to-do lists. Which is weird since virtually nothing has changed over the past 48 hours.
Well, yes, I’ve travelled 7,000 miles in an aluminium can with 800 strangers and a TV in front of my seat but that’s about it. I am still the same me with the same job in the same relationship in the same financial status. Inside, I haven’t changed.
And yet, it feels like I have.
Where you and who you are with changes you. There’s a reason why Bali – although a paradise by most standards – can’t boast many Nobel laureates or simply interesting people.
Interesting people tend to gravitate towards places filled with other interesting people. (And vice versa, by the way.) Bali, with all its fruit, colour, and nature, is, at the end of the day, filled with F-students looking for an easy life. That energy is palpable. After a certain point, it affects your mind.
Sure. Life on an island can’t be compared to life in a big city like London. This is what life is like for most people. This is The Real World. We’re all merely trying to get through the day and keep our heads afloat in the sea of expectations and house chores.
I used to think that it’s possible to live a life that’s somehow fundamentally different to this, but now I realise that no. You can’t. Of course, you can move to the forest and live like Captain Fantastic. Or you can live in Bali, eat coconuts, and pretend like you’ve made it (when the average salary among the locals on the island hovers just above $100, and that’s thanks to tourists) when you haven’t.
There’s no escaping the routine or the grind or society. We’re all here and that’s it. We just have to suck it up and accept the fact that pain, uncertainty, and constant work are The Three Inevitables.
We’ll be happier if we do.
Still. Even though this is all true, accepting modern human life as an endless stream of to-do lists and Google Calendar invites and emails and jealousy-driven social media where everyone is trying to be someone they are not is – is not the same as being a part of it.
Humans are social animals, and the surrounding world defines who we are and how we behave, but we also have the power of will. You still have yourself.
You can accept things for what they are and keep a healthy emotional detachment from them. You can be a part of the environment that allows you to be the best version of yourself and keep true to who you are.
You can live at your own pace. Be who we are. Not lose your mind just because everyone else is doing so.
I remind myself that over the past 48 hours, nothing has changed.
Yes, I’ve travelled 20 hours in a tin can and got out 7,000 miles away from where I started.
But I am the same person who was smiling and feeling confident and sure of himself just several days before.
Perhaps the surrounding world doesn’t define or change us after all. Perhaps it merely pulls things out of us and shows us who else we could be when faced with a different reality.
Perhaps that’s the ultimate reason to travel.