The Indonesian guests in my guest house partied loudly until one o'clock in the morning last night. Or maybe they just sat together. I thought for a moment if I should be angry about this, but basically it's exactly the right thing to do. After all, it only went to one. When I remember how many times we sang until dawn without giving a thought to anyone else.
Rather, I became aware of my narrow-mindedness as a solo traveler, because I went to bed at ten o'clock, only read a few pages and then fell asleep. Only to be woken up twice by the revelers. My apology is that I'm still lacking sleep from the late-night bus ride and the signs of a cold in my bronchi and sinuses.
In the morning the jet skis on the lake are annoying. They leave from half past seven in the morning because the water surface is still smooth then. Later in the day the lake becomes a bit more choppy and waves and clouds start to appear in the afternoon.
I'm using the day productively today and after finally finishing editing and releasing the video about Malaysia's Taman Negara National Park yesterday, I'm using the momentum to start the video about my week on Tioman Island.
In the morning I had a noticeable attack of homesickness. It's probably related to the fact that I'm going to miss another birthday party at home. It's on days like this that I realize it's me that's far away, not everyone else. I want to keep this state of mind and remember it when I plan the next trip of this length.
I always feel the first hint of homesickness after two weeks on a trip. Then not anymore and only on the days when I miss something at home. Is there something like a protective reflex of the soul when homesickness occurs? I think of my book by Wilfried Erdmann, which I have just finished, and his circumnavigation of the world, which lasted almost a year. On many pages of his travel diary he also writes about homesickness and how much he misses the people at home. But he also writes that he has already forgotten her a bit.
I'm not at that point yet. On the contrary: I dream of people I haven't seen for 20 years and see them in front of me. In these dreams I also remember their peculiarities, which I would never be able to name when I was awake. I even think of people whom I hardly notice when they meet me at home. I talk to them in my mind. For the sake of decency, I have to pay more attention to these people at home the next time they meet me. And I have to tell them that I thought of them on my journey. Even if that might be a bit embarrassing.
Punctually at four o'clock in the afternoon the clouds pile up again over the mountain ridges all around and the wind freshens up. I can only ignore this change in the weather for about half an hour, then I have to get up from my afternoon job and put on long clothes indoors.
I'm thinking about the next stop on my journey. It could be ketambe. It's away from the tourist crowds that flock to Bukit Lawang. I didn't notice any streams of tourists on my trip. Even in Thailand and Singapore there is no question of a mass rush and it seemed rather empty.
For Ketambe speaks that there is the possibility to retreat to a hut in the jungle. It is rented out by a British naturalist and is said to be very rustic and ensure distance from civilisation. The thought of it seems very attractive to me at the moment. However, I am currently on an island in a volcanic crater lake in Sumatra. That's pretty isolated. I have to be careful not to put myself in an uncomfortable situation out of escapism, just because here and there someone honks their horn when driving past and it gets on my nerves.