24 & 25 May 2025
Since Leah and Marie left the island, I haven’t had a single day off. It’s been too busy, and being the only volunteer around meant leaving the boys to manage on their own wasn’t really an option. Then Abby and Kate arrived, and Lea and Danielle invited me to spend the day with them yesterday — but the answer was still no, I couldn’t leave camp.
I wasn’t happy about it. I’d been working for ten days straight, and the new girls were more than capable of handling things. The work may not be hard, but being on standby from morning till night — never truly switching off, even during my hour of meditation on the beach — eventually wears you down.
Clear communication is often missing in these parts of the world, and right now I’m feeling pretty fed up with it. No clear instructions or expectations were given to me when I arrived. I never had a proper briefing. After asking twice in my first two days with no reply, I simply started observing the other volunteers and asking them to show me the ropes. I came ready and willing — I’m not about to beg anyone for work.
So being told now, when the camp is quiet and the admin up to date, that I couldn’t go out for a few hours? That felt unfair. There have been small things I’ve chosen to overlook — even paradise isn’t perfect, and humans will always have their flaws — but this subtle unfairness was starting to get under my skin.
I insisted on taking today off. I needed to get to the mainland for a few essentials — nothing is available here on the island. I asked to leave on the 10 am boat but was told I should wait until 12 pm to travel with the guests returning to Kuala Besut. That would give me only about two hours to get things done before the last boat back at 4 pm. Again, I had to swallow my frustration. At least the actual boat ride turned into a lot of fun, giggling at the two girls heading back to the mainland after their stay on the island. Taking selfies to remember each other by, we were all feeling the familiar pang of sadness. The past few days had been fun for all of us – a whole group of like minded girls sharing stories, drinks and future plans.
Shopping on the mainland was just another exhausting few hours in the heat, walking up and down, not finding what I needed, and settling for second-best. The grocery store looked impressive from the outside but offered limited options inside. After only managing to find a few basic skincare items and breakfast supplies, I gave up and sat in a coffee shop until the boat came.
Chef’s food back at camp is delicious — he’s a truly gifted cook — but it’s not the most nutritious. Pancakes and chocolate spread make for a fun treat, but not the healthiest breakfast every single day. I’d been hoping for muesli and fruit but settled for quick oats and yogurt-that’s-not-yogurt. Here, yogurt often means a thin, watery drink with a faint yogurt taste. Real dairy yogurt exists in some shops, but at a ridiculous price I’m not willing to pay.
By the time I got “home” in the afternoon, I was more tired than before my so-called “day off.” The heat and humidity have been wearing me down these last few days. I’m not used to being drenched in sweat all day, wearing damp clothes that never dry, with no AC and fans that don’t always work due to limited electricity. Add in the constant war with mosquitoes and sand in everything, and the magic starts to fade.
A few days after I arrived, a new tent was put up for me — proper accommodation hadn’t been prepared before I got here, so I’d been in a guest tent. The new one is beautiful and well-equipped, but pitch black. From the moment I saw it, I knew it was a bad idea — black tents heat up much faster. I mentioned this, only to be told, “All the tents are hot.” Yes, I know. But mine has become unbearably hot in this weather.
There’s no escape — nowhere to go for a moment alone, to rest or cool down. The makeshift canvas roof doesn’t help; the sun blasts into one side of my tent in the morning and the other in the afternoon.
Trying to cool off, I went for a swim — but the ocean water was hot. Scalding bathwater hot. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I know culture shock can set in after the initial “honeymoon phase” in a new place, and I’m used to adapting… but today it all feels like too much.
I feel trapped, tired, and emotional — wondering how I’ll manage the next few weeks, even if this has been one of the most magical experiences of my life.
Sulking in my sauna-tent, feeling sorry for myself, sweet Abby peeked around the corner with my dinner. The girls sensed my mood and have been quietly spoiling me with kind gestures. They really are two of the sweetest souls I’ve met in a long time. And in moments like this, I remember — there is always something to be grateful for.
