This is a guest post from TallahasseeScene’s Cassidy Curls
WiFi: Limited and expensive.
Dairy products: Nope.
Tropical island paradise: Well, yes.
Peace: We’ll get to that.
In the first leg of summer, the beginning of May to be exact, I happened to find myself in the middle of the South Pacific.
It was a long journey from Tampa to the Cook Islands — one that ended with a welcoming lei of flowers and a smile from my royal Polynesian landlady, Queen Manarangi Tutai. (I called her “Tutai,” as the Maori people are pretty casual about hierarchy.)
Via: Cassidy Curls
The airport in Aitutaki is basically an open shelter. It only houses one small shop that sells pareos (wrap skirts) and snacks, and a desk for Air Rarotonga, the only airline that operates out of there.
The island is only about 7 square miles, so it’s common for people to arrange airport pick-ups – logical, considering the only taxi services on the island are water taxis that ferry you over to small, uninhabited, family-owned outer islands known as Motus.
I had arrived, and the next thing I knew, I was riding in Tutai’s weathered and beaten Land Rover Discovery to my home for the next month: an inland cabana house set in a tropical garden. (Guava, starfruit and coconuts were included with rent.)
In lieu of the requisite jet-lag nap that typically awaits travelers, I walked to the main road of the Tautu Village to take in my new surroundings. There, I befriended a pig, introduced myself to the neighbors and realized that I was, in fact, very far from home.
The first few days were all about exploring, but it’s easy to scour a mere 7 square miles, especially on a rental motorbike. That being said, I quickly found myself becoming bored.
Via: Cassidy Curls
I felt disconnected and hopeless, and kept thinking about what all I could be doing at home instead. On the island, I could only use my phone for a quick email or WhatsApp message. I was oddly anxious and stressed.
But why?
I was obviously in paradise. I could lay out in the sun on a beach with turquoise waters. I could roam the garden looking at flowers and plants that I didn’t know existed. I had the freedom to read a novel, talk to people, write and absorb life.
But, instead, I just felt locked up. I could feel the familiar control of my life at home slipping through my fingers, and I felt useless.
By the end of the first week, I was already budgeting my activities so that I could most effectively distract myself enough to get through the next four weeks. One of the things that I did was turn miniscule work into daylong tasks.
To-do list for today: Go to the bank. Buy a pineapple. Go to the beach.
Via: Cassidy Curls
Why in the hell would someone write “Go to the beach” on a to-do list?
I was really losing it.
The simplicity, the ample amounts of time that I had, was simply overwhelming. All I could do was think about making it through the next four days that loomed over me. But I was simultaneously mad at myself for not making the most of that freedom.
I thought to myself “Girl, ur in mf paradise. Get overrr itttt!”
And when I talked to family and friends back home, they told me to relish the experience and not take it for granted.
All I could think about was how I was going to distract myself from nothingness for one whole month. After my laptop charger died and I no longer had computer chess to keep my days occupied, I considered buying a word search book. Wait, what? A word search book? Why did I really need to engage myself in something just for the sake of engaging myself in something?
Why could I not just be?
Even now that I’m on U.S. soil, I can’t answer that question. Things got better throughout the trip, but I was just overwhelmed by the nothingness of it all. Is this a common fear for many of my other fellow millennials? Or is it just me?
Via: Cassidy Curls
So, I sat on beaches, I sat on boats, I swam in turquoise shallows, I watched lots and lots of bootlegged DVDs, and I waited until my time was up. And, when it was, I turned on 4G LTE quicker than you can say “airplane mode.” Then, on a layover in Los Angeles, I headed for downtown where I swapped tuna and chips for a burrito bowl and my snorkel and fins for a new pair of floral pants from H&M.
I was back.
Aitutaki will forever hold very fond memories of beauty, peculiarity and cultural interest. But it will also forever remind me of just how psychologically challenging seclusion can be.
The novelty of a place, its beauty and intrigue, only lasts so long. In the end, people will always need conversation, entertainment and familiarity.
And, of course, WiFi.
Featured photo courtesy of: Wallart.com
