18 & 19 May 2025
My quiet island escape has quickly turned into something much busier, with the camp now full of guests.
Managing check-ins and check-outs, writing up bills, sorting boat tickets and snorkeling tours — it’s not hard work, but it does fill up the day. And with me currently on my own in this role, I’m also in charge of making sure tents are cleaned after check-out, that dinner orders are placed by 6:30pm each night, and helping Chef prepare and serve dinner.
It’s not overwhelming, but I’ve started to feel a bit… exhausted. And a little lonely.
The boys here don’t speak much English, and we don’t have much in common.
I miss the sense of belonging and family I had in Rishikesh. That shared understanding, the ease.
Thankfully, Rakia was still here until this afternoon. In just a few days, she became part of the family at Juita. Everyone adored her. She was invited to eat with us at every meal, regardless of whether she was hungry or not — a plate of rice and chicken or fish would be placed in front of her with such loving insistence that she eventually gave up trying to refuse. Laughing, she accepted it and showed us sweet photos of her daughter, who’s getting married next month.
Last night, we went together to watch the fire show, held on the beach most Fridays and Saturdays.
And what a show it was.
Young local fire dancers twirled flaming poi and staffs faster than I’ve ever seen — like acrobats set alight, their movements impossibly agile and hypnotic. The final dance was unlike anything I’ve witnessed. One dancer, clearly experienced, wielded a long staff with wire mesh baskets at each end, each filled with hot coals. To the rhythm of slow, nostalgic music, he moved with a haunting, spellbinding grace.
In the complete darkness, the glowing coals looked like dragons or phoenixes dancing in the sky — swirling, soaring, leaving trails of flame in spirals and ribbons across the night.
I held my breath. It felt like a ceremony, like watching the old gods return for one more dance beneath the stars.
This morning, after Rakia left, the camp felt… empty.
That familiar bittersweet feeling settled in my chest — the sadness of goodbye mixed with the quiet joy of having met someone beautiful.
Emotions swirled like tides. I haven’t been feeling well today.
I suspect the intense solar flares we’re experiencing aren’t helping either. I feel a flu-like heaviness, extra tired and tender.
They say the more energy-sensitive we become, the more deeply we’re affected by these solar shifts. And as Sun beings, as Jaco and I call ourselves, the waves of light particles that pour in during these storms can leave us feeling completely cracked open.
Cracked open… and deeply, strangely alive.
And, of course, there’s the visa stress.
I’ve been trying to figure out my next move for India.
It’s starting to feel like the universe wants me to stay longer than the three months I have left on my one-year visa. So, I had a full-blown conversation with my old friend ChatGPT — and it seemed a volunteer visa could be an option.
Except… when I went to check the actual requirements, I discovered that visa doesn’t seem to exist.
Thanks, ChatGPT. 🙄
So now, I’ve been lying awake for two nights, researching, overthinking, weighing options, trying to make sense of it all.
But as always… I know the universe will find a way.
It always does.
