By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
The ocean was alive, breathing deeply against the golden shores of Seminyak. The beach was quiet under a grey sky, resting between tourist seasons when it would be trampled by thousands of bare feet seeking reprieve. I watched the surfers tame the waves that gleamed in any stray ray of sunshine penetrating the clouds. I had come here, among the beach-side bars and abandoned sun chairs, as the first stop of three months of solo travel through Southeast Asia. Bali was tame enough, touristy enough, to sooth my terror at starting this journey alone. I was a young woman after all, and I’d heard far too many stories of the dangers of travelling alone, of the thieves and kidnappers that apparently stalked every street of anywhere that wasn’t “west”. Later in my trip I’d hike through jungles in Thailand, boat down a shallow river through remote Cambodian countryside and hitchhike through part of Malaysia. But right now, I needed somewhere safer while I struggled to my feet. I turned from the dappled water and headed up the beach towards a small surf shop where I had booked a surfing lesson. I was early, but I checked in anyways. There was then nothing to do but sit on the sandy porch alongside the local surf instructors and wait. We stared at each other, me awkwardly, them with smiles and curiosity. I’m not the best in social situations generally, and this was no exception. Yet somehow, we were soon talking. One man, skinny and weathered by sea and sun, was delighted to learn I was from Vancouver, Canada. He’d been there once and was eager to share stories of his travels. “Vancouver is nice, but it is so dangerous!” he told me. “The streets at night are frightening. There are sick people, just everywhere.” He mimed injecting himself with a needle. What could I say to that? It was impossible to argue, not when every word was true. Yet here I was, in Southeast Asia, the region everyone had told me was so dangerous. It was odd, this dawning realization that perhaps the more dangerous place was the spot I had just come from. “Bali is so safe,” my instructor continued. “You can go anywhere at night. It is small. I have spent all my life here, but for Vancouver. I like it.” He smiled, the kind of smile I would get so used to throughout my travels, the one of infinite light and joy that almost all the locals of this poverty stricken area seemed so well-practiced in. I looked around at the quiet beach, the rolling grey waves. “I like it too.”