Seeking alone time and getting much more in Indonesia

A month ago, I awoke on my last day on the largest of the Gili Islands, tucked between Bali and Lombok islands in Indonesia. I awoke to birds chirping, leaves lightly blowing, plates clinking, oceans waving; I awoke to the sounds of paradise. I also awoke to a deep sadness to be leaving not only a tiny beautiful place, but the unexpected group of friends I had made there as well.

Going to Gili Trawangan was my getaway. To rinse myself from the noise and pollution of Beijing, to take advantage of being in Asia again, to see a new place, and strap on my backpack again. It was mainly a scuba diving trip, as diving is a huge hobby of mine, and I don't have a chance to do it when I am in Toronto. I had heard from Brenna that there were lots of turtles in the water, and that the island was a good place to chill out and enjoy beautiful beaches.

I was going to be by myself.

Early to sleep, I'd wake with the sun for my dives. I'd stretch and meditate, and try my best to breathe slowly underwater to conserve my air. I'd look carefully under rocks and in coral for creatures of the sea, and move myself with subtle movements of my flippers. I'd be cautious and calm, and take every moment of the dive in. Once finished the dive, I'd go through the fish identification book with the other divers to determine what we saw. I'd learn the names of everything we saw and research them.

After my dives, I'd write in my journal on the beach with a cocktail or seashell in hand, and sand on my skin. I'd reflect on my time in Beijing and try to determine what it was that made living there so hard for me. I'd write about my life of late, and reflect on what it means to be almost thirty. I'd make a list of all the people I love, and write postcards to them. I'd spend these ten days quietly nurturing myself. I wouldn't meet many people, and I'd keep to myself.

It didn't quite turn out that way.

When boarding the boat for the 2 hour journey from Bali to Lombok, I met a traveller named Martin who enthralled me with stories of med school and hiking Mount Bromo. We rode the boat next to each other and exchanged ideas about travelling and realized we both share a need to travel that many of our friends at home do not understand about us. When we arrived on the island, we decided to share a room because it was cheaper than bunk beds at the popular backpackers. With that, I was inducted into the established travel-friend group of Martin. He had stayed at In Da Lodge hostel in Ubud a few weeks earlier, and had met a group of solo travellers there who were all travelling to Gili in the coming weeks. As soon as Martin and I arrived to the island, he kept an eye out for his posse.

Within a day, serendipitous reuniting hugs abound, the In Da Lodge crew was together again. There is something very sweet about meeting a friend at one time on your trip, and then seeing them again in another place. It feels extra special to see them again, and upon reuniting, those new friends feel instantly like old friends from the road. They shared inside jokes from Ubud and teased each other in a way that good friends do. Instead of being an outsider who wasn't among the original group, I was adopted in like I'd been there the whole time. I was greeted with hugs and smiles and curiosity and  warmth. I was on the receiving end of the openness of the travelling spirit.

We ate dinner together at the night market on the island, and more friends showed up. We gorged ourselves on pretty cakes and desserts and stories from our various adventures. Afterward, someone mentioned a silent disco, and we danced together in silence with earphones on until 3 am.

The next morning, I rushed to the scuba shop and was kindly teased for showing up 15 minutes late. I had to throw together my gear and barely had time to squeeze in a cup of tea before heading to the boat.

Once under water, though, the quietness came. The sound of my own breath and the entire ocean surrounding me, entirely wrapped up in the underwater world around me. Slow motion bubbles and an anemonefish with two tiny babies, barely visible in the swaying coral. An octopus curled under a shelf, camouflaged black, with only a large white winking eye to give itself away. A strong current pulling us along, leaving us expending almost no effort to move across the dive site. That precious dreamy sense of weightlessness that I can only know when I dive. The only sound is a distant tap of metal on tank as our instructor points out a family of sharks cozy between large boulders. I see three, and find out when we surface that there were six. The dream comes to an end as our tanks run light and we slowly surface. During our three minute safety stop, a massive hawksbill turtle comes up for air nearby, and I realize we are both going up for air in this moment, the turtle and I.

On the boat as we ride back toward the beach, I realize that diving was what I really needed. The dive was my meditation, it was all the contemplation I sought for this adventure. I didn't need the afternoon alone to write about it in my journal over a coffee. The notes in my logbook would remind me of the life we saw underwater. What I really wanted after those dives was the company of my new friends.

After a long chat with the friendly scuba staff, I felt so lucky to return to the room for a shower and then meet up with Martin, to ride bikes along the beach and find the rest of the gang for sunset watching over Bintangs on the beach, for storytelling and photo-taking and those momentary blips in time when you really feel like this is it, this is the sum of all of my life. This is where the choices I have made have taken me, and this is where I am now. These people are my friends now, and all of us have been brought here by different forces in our lives. Though we might not meet again, right now, we are watching this sunset together.

It gets me every time. Heading off for solo adventures, seeking time alone to contemplate the depths of my soul, but instead finding new friends and new places to bring you into the moment and realizing that "it wasn't being alone that I needed, but travel".

Flying home is always emotional, but this time I felt so full of life I could hardly contain it. Those mad feelings came out in tears and laughs and deep sighs during the days that followed my return. I glued the log book pages into my dive log just yesterday, and a seashell from Gili T sits on my bathroom shelf to remind me that the sea is never really that far out of reach.

When life demands more than you can offer

When it feels like the outside world is a dream, and the only reality is you and a hospital monitor that beeps every second.

I believe every person is allotted an amount of stress that they are able to cope with. It might be higher for some people, and lower for others, but I think that everyone has their own stress threshold. The stresses of normal life - a critical remark from a co-worker or a piece of technology not performing properly - these stresses are manageable, and do not become catastrophic. We manage stress by rewarding ourselves, taking breaks, going to sleep early, and generally just by taking care of ourselves. But, when a person is thrust into a serious situation where every moment of time is used up, the normal stress coping mechanisms go out the window. Without taking the normal breaks and time for oneself, stress can build up to a boiling point very quickly if left un-managed. Unfortunately for me, I experienced a great deal of stress in a few days in a hospital last month, and my own means of coping with stress disappeared, as did my ability to take care of myself. There was no option to put myself or the person in need first - obviously I would eat when my help was no longer needed, or take a seat when the chance arose. At that time, it was more important to do everything I could to help that person get better.

Now that she is back to normal, and beginning life as a new mom, I am happy to see the pictures she sends of her new baby. I am happy for her life, and the way our relationship has become so enriched by this bonding experience. I am also happy for her relationship with her fiance, as I saw firsthand how deeply he cares for her, and how much he was willing to sacrifice for her well-being. I am happy that their lives have become normal, and the stresses they face are now the common experiences among all first-time parents.

One thing that has impressed me in this experience is the great effect that one person's life can have on another person's life. When I went to the hospital to help out, I never thought that I would be forced to change so much of my life. I'm supposed to be studying in New York, right now, but I had to cancel that study program. Instead of spending the summer studying in a cubby hole in the New York Public Library, I'm taking a semester off. I'm supposed to be moving back to Korea in August, but I missed my opportunity to apply for jobs and now feel wiser and slightly wary of my dream-like state of life there. I'm supposed to be living my own life fully, and in many ways I am not yet able to do that. And, ironically, now I'm the one who is taking the medicine.

"What does not destroy me makes me stronger"

- Nietzsche

I've always believed the above quotation, and had applied it to the difficult times I had experienced in my life. Before this trauma, my most difficult times were break-ups and travel horrors - but these difficulties don't compare to staring death in the face and singing someone to sleep not knowing if they would awaken. They don't compare to feeling like the outside world is a dream, and the only reality is you and a hospital monitor that beeps every second. When you cry because you hear the songs of birds for the first time in 3 days and realize the outdoor soundtrack you've taken for granted all your life. When you don't want to talk to anyone, or be talked to by anyone, and miss the opportunity to spend an afternoon alone. When every phone call is needy, and every minute demands a new task. When all people within arms reach are asking for you, wanting your time, needing answers, and haphazardly offering suggestions to you. When all your muscles ache but you didn't notice until that moment in the shower. When your brain betrays you, and won't allow sleep when it knows you've been up for days. When you feel wrinkles burrowing into your skin and long for the morning routine of grooming yourself. When you consume nothing but tea and muffins courtesy of someone else, and seek only a moment to sneak down to the hospital food court and order your own take away meal. When every eventual morsel of food you eat is the best you've ever had. When you think just a second anonymity would mend you. When every part of your body and mind feels like it can't keep going.

Something inside of me kept pushing me forward, onto the next step. Something told me to keep going, to keep moving, to keep walking.

During my worst moments, I felt nearly clairvoyant. I had the ability to x-ray anyone around me and determine if they were mentally well or in need of professional help. I felt lifetimes smarter than everyone else, and I felt ecstatic to finally see my whole life through a crystal clear rear view lens. A natural analyzer, I examined all of my friendships to determine who was safe for me to be around. I examined every person that I knew, and decided whether they were healthy or not. Now that I am returning to my quotidian life, I feel that my emotional intelligence will be better than it has been. I also think I will be able to take care of myself better, and be able to recognize when I am giving too much.

"Time heals all wounds"

- Unknown

It's not true that time heals all wounds, because every wound is different. Some wounds might never heal, and perhaps the inevitable distance of time from an unhealed wound is all the healing one can wish for. I certainly feel that the distance in time since this trauma to now - over 5 weeks - is helping me to heal. With each passing day, I feel closer to me. Closer to what I know to be me.

With persistence, professional help, and a lot of hard work and self reflection, I want to come out of this stronger and wiser, with the ability to take better care of myself.

seven tips for living alone

"being alone is very difficult." -Yoko Ono

i like yoko, like a lot, but on this, we disagree.

i have been living on my own on and off for the past 7 years, and it has recently come to my attention that living alone doesn't come naturally to some people. in the spirit of sharing experience and knowledge, and having coped with the difficulties of starting a life as a person living alone - my adjustment included eating french toast for every meal - i've compiled a list of my seven greatest tips for what will surely be a changing experience for anyone.

so here it is, expatkerri's seven tips for living alone.

1. get alone: when you first move into your new apartment alone, it can be very tempting to fill up your schedule with dinner plans and outings. such is life, especially in a big city offering live concerts and book clubs every night. however, part of the joy of living alone is that you have a place to go and do your thing without anyone bothering you, anytime you want. if you start to think of being alone at home as being somewhere, with someone (that person is you), you'll think of home as less of a last resort and more of a haven. With a little time, you'll soon look forward to being alone in your home.

2. get a hobby: at first, your newfound free time and personal space can be overwhelming. you might have many projects in mind that you want to start, but feel incapable of starting any of them for their sheer vastness. for this reason, picking one hobby to work on initially will help you narrow in on one task, and develop a sense of accomplishment for your time at home. expatkerri recommends knitting scarves for friends, starting a journal (of any kind), choosing an ethnicity of food to master, and video-blogging.

3. get tidy: there is nothing worse than living alone in a mess. not only is it unhygienic and unpleasant, it's also very hard to remedy the problem after it begins since there's no one on your tail to clean up. laundry piles can build up for months, and the good intentions with which you brought out the vacuum get covered in dust. you want to feel good when you come home, and that good feeling comes from having a good space to live in. the solution is just to do a 5-minute clean-up every day: wash dishes immediately after you use them. put clothes that need to be washed directly into the washing machine, and clothes that are still clean should go back in the closet right away. keep the bathroom clean and wash it before it's visibly dirty (once a week). you'll be surprised how little effort it takes to keep your apartment tidy and ready for guests.

4. get rid of your tv: since i moved out of my parents house at 17, i've had countless apartments in countless cities, all of them without tvs. i am absolutely of the belief that tv rots your brain, and living alone only makes you more likely to develop tv addiction and create poor sleeping habits. instead of exposing yourself to endless ads for prescriptions and remedies for diseases invented for profit, why not try reading the books you already own?

5. get a favourite radio station: though most people don't even own radios anymore, i still think they're a great item to have when you live alone. if you use it as your morning alarm, you'll be informed of the day's weather, and keep up with the news since there are no roommates to let you know when something big has happened. it's also nice to just have a voice in your apartment while cooking or emailing. here in korea i don't have my own radio, so i use online radio instead.

6. get creative: making meals for one can make you a lot more experimental in the kitchen, (because you'll soon tire of your old reliable meals like spaghetti and baked potatoes). don't get caught in the "i'm free so i can eat french toast for dinner every night" spell, since all those carbs will just end up making you sad. you'll feel a lot better physically and mentally after preparing yourself a little homemade pesto. i recommend heading over to veggiebelly for her super simple and delicious recipes, and freeze the extra portions to make a few days' dinners in one go.

7.  get ready: now that you're settled into your new clean apartment and experimenting with new recipes, the time will come when you want to entertain. just because you live alone doesn't mean you only need one spoon, one fork and one knife (i learned this the hard/embarrassing way when my guests ended up eating soup right out of the pot). set yourself up with a pair of wine glasses and cups of different sizes, as well as bowls and enough cutlery for a few good friends.

if you're still not convinced about being alone, watch this beautiful video and try some of her tips. especially the one about going to the movies alone.

let me be the first to welcome you to your wonderful new home for you and your mind. happy alone time :)

share you other tips for being alone as a twitter post here!