Part Three
Reflections: After Indonesia
And just like that, my final adventure in the tropics came to an end. Only God knew when the next time I’d be able to afford doing such a thing would come – time and money wise.
But before the end was yet another challenge I had to face. First off, it was saying goodbye to the Komodo Gang. Once again, I found it funny how random strangers can become such good friends in the span of a few days. And, even funnier (to me, at least) is the fact that I was now bonding over something that was completely inconsequential to me up until a year before. Diving had become such an intrinsic part of who I am, so much so that I could befriend literally anyone who partakes in that same passion. Even Americans.
Over the course of the two weeks I spent in Indonesia, my love for diving intensified more than ever. I was now an official divemaster with over one hundred dives to my name – a couple of milestones I was really proud of. Those hundred dives, whilst they might not be that many, had a bigger, deeper meaning to them. During those hundred dives, it was me falling in love with nature all over again. It was me unlocking a new side to this world. It was me having the time of my life – from my Open Water course in Belize to my divemaster training in Utila, and all the fun dives since then. Countless memories I wouldn’t have experienced had it not been for me deciding to take my first breath underwater.
The feeling of freedom and peace whilst being suspended in mid-water. The feeling of ecstasy and inebriety whilst being narc’d. The feeling of exhaustion and breathlessness when swimming against a strong current. The feeling of awe and wonder when witnessing the incredible marine life. The feeling of being alive and pumped up after the dive. The feeling of dread and terror when you mess up. The feeling of futility and disappointment when you’re not progressing fast enough. The feeling of fulfilment and satisfaction when you eventually get there. In those few months, I had felt all of that and then some.
It had been months of highs and lows, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Diving had made me feel once again. It made me feel more alive than ever, passionate, fiery. It transformed my life. It really did.
Something else that would be transforming my life was the upcoming travel schedule I had waiting for me. I had to wait five hours to catch my flight to Bali, then a twelve-hour layover until my flight to Jakarta, then an eight-hour wait for my eight-hour flight to Dubai, another eight-hour layover there, and then an eight-hour flight back to Malta.
Not only did these transits rob me of my will to live, but they also had me give up my mega power bank – the very same one I had been carrying around for almost seven years. It had managed to cross countless borders and survive everything I’d put it through, except for a security check in Jakarta, that is. Luckily enough, with every airport on my way back home boasting smoking areas at every twist and turn, my nerves could easily be assuaged. It would’ve been a better experience had they not confiscated every lighter I’d manage to get my hands on at every opportunity… Oh, and my luggage was always and inevitably the last one to arrive.
So yes, this trip made me hate flying even more than I did before, which is saying something. Not just cause of the logistics and the long hours though. It felt like I was working hard to go somewhere I didn’t quite want to go. I’d be saying goodbye to the nomadic lifestyle I had gotten so used to. I’d be saying goodbye to these incredible landscapes and gorgeous vistas. And, most of all, I’d be saying goodbye to all the wonderful adventures I’d have on a daily basis.
That said, I wasn’t dreading going back home. In fact, I’d say I was pretty okay with it – the idea of diving in Malta and getting back to medicine making me feel hopeful and somewhat excited. Plus, I’d get to travel around and explore more of the world and its seas again at some point. I’d be okay.
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