Backpacking through Bali

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I wanted to learn how to surf, so I went to Bali. Blonde girl with a big backpack, 17 years old. I had the time of my life. I met the most wonderful people – locals as well as fellow travellers. (Not sure if “traveller” is the correct name for all these surfers who spend 6 months of the year in Bali living the good life, maybe more of a commuter. Long term commuters. They have the most admirable attitude towards life.) I also had amazing food and stayed in the coolest little bungalows and huts (never for more than 13 euros a night). I was traveling by myself, flying solo, for more than a month so I kept a diary. Sometimes I wrote several pages about a single day. I was scared to forget things too quickly. I also felt like traveling alone might mean that I experienced things less intensely because you have no one to share them with. But that probably isn’t true. It might be the complete opposite actually. When you’re by yourself, you open yourself up to every opportunity and are also very exposed, in a good and in a bad way. You will find yourself in situations you never thought you would be in and do stuff you never thought you would say yes to. And all of this will teach you an awful lot about yourself. The crucial factor is that it’s you, and only you, who makes the decisions. Being alone is something most people in my generation suck at. They’re uncomfortable and don’t know what to do with themselves. I used to be exactly like that – especially after years in boarding school where you’re bored after 10 minutes not talking to someone. I learned to be alone in Bali and I am so glad I did. It makes you independent. Not independent as in you can take care of your own bills, do your own laundry or book your own flights but independent in a much stronger sense. Independent in that your happiness and wellbeing don’t depend on others and their judgment – independent in that you can happily sit in a cafe or by the beach or walk around by yourself and not touch your phone for five hours. You just do your own thing.
Traveling alone allows you to open your eyes, mind and heart. And this way you receive so much more from life. (Sorry for being so cheesy…)

Anyway, I didn’t wanna write much about this picture heavy post. I hate sorting out photos when there’s thousands to go through and every single one bring back endless memories. So at some point I gave up and decided to chuck them all in this post. Between all this nostalgia and Wanderlust, I do my best to keep up the quality of the photos. Which is actually a lot harder than you’d think, because to me sometimes it can be the shittiest photos that captured the best moments of this trip.
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(Sorry Mom, I know you hate it when there’s too many pictures)

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