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
Plenty of us travel alone. That sense of intrigue and wonderment is heightened somehow, and an emboldening occurs; slowly at first, then swiftly afterwards, like a southerly breeze arriving after a stifling days’ heat. But the thing about travelling alone is there will always be moments of doubt that wouldn’t seem so poignant, so visceral, with a sister screaming metro stop names at you in the rubbish- strewn Paris Undergound, or a mother scolding you dramatically when you leave your passport behind in a Changi toilet cubicle. Worries aside, we remind ourselves that it’s more than enough to have our own company for a week or two while we immerse ourselves in cities, cultures and communities so different from our own. What happens then, if we end up travelling solo when our plan was always to have another body by our side? It wasn’t my intention to end up on a plane to Vanuatu this past January with an empty seat either side of me, but that was what unfolded when my good friend was denied clearance to travel to Port Vila at the eleventh hour, and I decided to jump on the plane anyway, heading down the gangway with a machine gun pulse and a determination to still enjoy all that I knew this pacific island had to offer me. The warmth underfoot as I walked across the tarmac filled me with a sense of calm; the tropical air was stagnant but the landscape surrounding the runway was unbelievable at best. If dinosaurs had appeared at any moment I wouldn’t have been surprised, at home in the mountainous terrain that was as green as baby spinach straight from the packet and lined with palm trees that swayed peacefully together in the light breeze, as if to say; everything here is just a little bit leisurely, slow down, take a load off. After a few months of grief back home I had at first panicked at the thought of spending two weeks alone, but as the crowds bounced like tennis balls towards the tarnished terminal doors up ahead, I loosened, my body worn rubber. This place was medicinal, at least as far as first impressions go. The first few days at the resort offered temporary comfort, but I soon found myself seeking more. Never one to pass up alone time back in Australia, I shocked myself when I watched the young locals play raucously in the lagoon from my balcony and felt strange, wishing I could share the joy that they passed around like a volleyball. Before long I found myself wading into the lagoon mid-morning each day, sinking into the tepid water warmed by the swollen sun; my back propped firmly against the behemoth of a tree that offered much needed shade. The lagoon became the place I enjoyed both a meditational sense of quiet and the shrill laughter of the boys that would come each morning to play. Their delight was contagious, and before long they were curious of me. I beckoned them over, their eyes darting to one another for confirmation I was safe to approach. With smiles stretched wide like rubber bands, they moved closer, the older child hovering protectively over his young friend, paddling furiously towards me on a boogie board as well used as a dog’s favourite chair. The younger boy giggled on approach, and I sensed a mischievousness in him that I would come to crave. They introduced themselves and asked my name, grinning wildly while trying to master it, their sense of pride obvious when I nodded back. Our days went on this way; a square of chocolate cheekily stolen from my palm on Tuesday, by Thursday a grimy starfish, wrapped in a ribbon of morning light, presented as a gift, then promptly thrown back to it’s underwater home. Soon enough my trip wasn’t about finding me, it was about finding these boys, who seemed to have nothing and everything all at once. Making a local connection in a gated resort full of Westerners was the last thing I expected on my trip to Port Vila, but something unexpected was just what I needed to take home with me.