When Solitude Became My Safe Haven

    HEY. So I've been thinking about blogging again. Not in that "I need to be productive" way or trying to prove I'm doing something with my life., nothing like that. I just miss having a space where I can actually tell stories, you know? The kind that's too long for Instagram Stories and too important to just sit in my phone notes forever. Just a chill place where I can be real and let life unfold however it wants to.

    And honestly? Now that I'm getting weirdly comfortable with traveling alone, I feel like I have so much to talk about. Like, the random places I've stumbled into, the strangers who somehow became my travel buddies for a hot minute, those tiny moments that hit different and change how you see things.

    But here's the thing... out of everywhere I've been, Sulawesi is the one I keep thinking about. That whole trip this year? It's what finally made me get it. Like, what it actually means to be okay being alone when the whole world feels loud and chaotic.

Vietnam, but make it in Indonesian version (Tana Toraja) :P

About Choosing to Be Alone (Because I Actually Want To)

    Okay, so I've always been into solitude. Like, genuinely.

    Some people feel super lonely when they're by themselves, but for me? It's the opposite... I feel free. Most people need their world filled with friends, community, all that social stuff to feel complete. And I get that, I really do. But me? I feel most like myself when I actually have time alone.

    Don't get me wrong; solitude doesn't mean I'm shutting everyone out or that I don't need people. I do. It's just that there's this part of me I can only really hear when it's quiet and I'm by myself. That's when I can be completely honest without worrying if anyone gets it or not.

    And somehow, Sulawesi just... reinforced all of that for me.

A Journey That Started with (Okay, Fine) a Lie

Warning: Please don't do what I did.

    So this whole trip? It started with me being kind of reckless and impulsive. I literally went to Sulawesi without telling my parents. Like, even when I was booking the ticket, I wasn't totally sure what I was chasing. I just knew one thing for sure: I needed to prove to myself that I could still do this alone. That I didn't need to depend on anyone.

    Was I scared? Yeah, absolutely. Did I feel guilty? Also yes. But honestly, my curiosity was way bigger than both of those feelings combined.

    I landed in Manado with this ridiculously heavy backpack on my shoulders and somehow, my heart felt super light. I thought everything was gonna go smoothly—classic me, always optimistic. But of course, solo travel is never that smooth.

Getting Scammed by a Motorcycle Rental: The Opening Act

    So, first day there and I immediately got scammed by a motorcycle rental place.

    I'm not gonna get into all the details, but basically: I was ghosted, and (finally got the back-up—another motorcycle rental) the bike they gave me was kinda terrible. I just stood there and took a deep breath—but honestly, I was too tired to make it into this whole dramatic thing. I just said to myself:

    "Okay, whatever. The trip's just starting. Just roll with it."

    Turns out, that was only the opening act for even more... ridiculous stuff.

Tomohon: The City That Taught Me I'm Tougher Than I Thought

    One of the most unforgettable days of my entire life happened in Tomohon.

    The day started before sunrise. Like, 5 a.m., still freezing cold, roads totally empty. I was cruising slowly toward this spot when out of nowhere, my motorcycle skidded. I fell pretty hard.

Nobody saw it happen.

Nobody came to help.

I got up by myself, brushed the dirt off my wrinkled jacket, and did a quick check to make sure nothing was broken.

Somehow I was still smiling despite being bruised up and spiraling about whether the motorcycle was broken and how much extra they were gonna charge me :')

And here's where it gets even more dramatic:

My phone completely died.

Like, wouldn't turn on at all.

No Google Maps.

No emergency numbers.

No way to contact anyone.

I still managed to swing by TIFF 2025 (Tomohon International Flower Festival 2025) for a bit, but since my phone was totally dead, I couldn't take any pictures and my mood just crashed. So I decided to head back to Manado early.

Picture this: I'm riding back from Tomohon to Manado completely alone, no map, no phone, in a city I barely even knew.

All I had were these fuzzy memories of the turns I took that morning. And with this weird mix of courage and pure stupidity, I made it back. Slowly, heart racing the whole time, but I made it.

When I finally got to the guesthouse, I just laughed at myself.

Half relief, half disbelief at how absurd that entire day was.

Luckily I still managed to capture this on my iPhone :D

Small Acts of Kindness That Showed Up in the Chaos

After all that mental and physical chaos, Sulawesi gave me something really sweet: I met genuinely kind people.

Strangers who didn't think twice about helping when I looked completely lost.

Random travel buddies who just appeared out of nowhere in Ollon. (I'm gonna miss you Kak Dicky and Kak Darwin, also the tourists from Germany and England whom we met at a nearby warung in Ollon! Forgot to ask their names!!)

People who pointed me in the right direction, shared their food, or just gave me a smile.

They reminded me that the world isn't always as harsh as we imagine it to be.

The journey to Ollon was honestly one of the most surreal experiences of my life. These endless rolling hills, air that felt impossibly clean, and this kind of silence that somehow felt warm instead of lonely. Like the whole world just turned down its volume to give me space to actually breathe.

I remember just sitting there, staring at those hills, and thinking:

"If this is what came from that reckless decision that not everyone supported... then maybe it's okay to listen to your own heart sometimes."

From Foreign Lands to My Own Backyard

I used to think I needed to go abroad to feel truly free. But after Sulawesi, something clicked: beauty doesn't have to be far away.

There's this different kind of warmth when you find beauty in your own country—it feels closer, more personal, and honestly... more real.

Little by little, Indonesia is starting to feel like this massive book I want to take my time reading.

Being a Solitary Soul: It's Not About Being Lonely, It's About Being Free

Being a solitary soul doesn't mean shutting everyone out or living like a hermit.

Actually, it's when I'm alone that I figure things out:

That being strong doesn't always look the way people think it does.

That kindness can show up from the most unexpected places.

That the world is never really as empty as it feels.

And most importantly... that I actually can do this.

Solitude feels like home to me.

And trips like Sulawesi? They make me believe it's totally okay to walk alone sometimes. The world has this way of looking out for people who are brave enough to take that first step.

Sampe baku dapa ulang!

Love,

Imelda