Coming home

Just like that, I’ve gone from the serenity of tropical beaches to the rush of everyday life.

There’s something strange about returning home. Back to the familiar sights and sounds, the texture of your sheets or the perfume you missed. After months in a hostel, even the little things — like my own bathroom or the showers without thongs — are a luxury, but it’s the ‘Welcome backs’ and all-too-familiar hugs that really make it feel like home.

Reconnecting with good friends after travelling is a relief, finally being able to catch up on the conversations that got buried in unassembled text messages and awkwardly timed phone calls. One thing that bugs me about this, though, is that I can’t replay the last three months to anyone. No matter how many photos or stories I share, the experience feels impossible to fully convey. But that’s what makes it all the more meaningful, right?

For me, living in a hostel and sharing life with a diverse group of backpackers has been one of my most fulfilling experiences. I didn’t expect to become a backpacker in my own country, but I loved the island life: beach strolls, lagoon swims, island day trips, bare feet, water fights and endless laughs across the hostel sofas. Of course, I won’t miss the humidity, mosquitoes, and flying cockroaches, though.

The extent of this experience can never fully be translated, but I think that’s why I decided to start writing — to process my reflections and share bits and bobs that someone else might find useful.

So, what can I tell you?

Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from living in a hostel among backpackers, it’s that there is no time to waste. People come and go, relationships develop quickly. You could become best friends or fall in love, only to say goodbye just as suddenly. The hostel is like that; intense and dynamic, always unstable, and the only real thing we can count on is change.

I noticed that in this environment I was more inclined to be vulnerable, take risks or jump on opportunities simply because I knew the situations were fleeting. It reminds me of a quote by Emma Carey, known as the girl who fell from the sky. She survived a skydiving accident in Switzerland, falling 14,000 feet and relearning how to walk. After this near-death experience, she adopted the mantra "If you can, you must." This quote has always stuck with me, but now it resonates even more.

I think that as a backpacker you are always reminded of the uncertainty of life. You take risks, say goodbye often, and deal with unreliable jobs and changing plans. There’s a lot of ‘unknown’ to this life — in fact, every day brings an element of surprise.

Early in my stay in Airlie, a backpacker invited me to join a barbecue. I hesitated, thinking it was just a courteous gesture, but then realised this was my chance to make friends and so, I decided to show up. That small interaction shaped my life for the next three months and made me realise just how quickly opportunities pass by. In the backpacker life, it is "now or never." You don’t have time to plan; you just have the moment, and that’s what I love about it. I think it is in those spontaneous instances — when we choose to say yes, jump in, and act in the moment — that’s when we feel truly alive.

Now that I’m home, I find myself wondering: How can I carry that same sense of assertiveness? How can I stay present within the routine of everyday life? I guess the secret to making the most of our time on earth is to carry a sense of urgency with us. Just like a backpacker, we should seize the moment, try something new, and jump on opportunities. Wherever we are, we should keep in mind that change is guaranteed and it is our responsibility to steer life the direction we want. Whether it is signing up for a new hobby, saying yes more often, or telling someone how we really feel — this is your chance to start grabbing life by the reins, thinking like a backpacker and living ferociously, without regrets.

-Mel