I thought I’d love this – waking up slowly in Bali, having breakfast alone while romantically gazing through the window, sitting by the beach and listening to waves… It sounded like a dream. Especially for an introvert like me. I was looking forward to this trip.

But reality turned out differently. Instead of peace, I feel anxious. Eyes on me that are probably not even there. And this subtle, annoying pressure to enjoy. To “make the most of it”. Whatever that means. Because I’m so lucky to be here.

Old fears, welcome back

I’ve been through this before. Years ago, I felt the same kind of anxiety while being in public. I challenged myself, went on a solo trip and got over it. I faced my fears, so they should be gone, right? 
But apparently, fear doesn’t disappear forever. It just goes quiet until it needs to be addressed again. And I ignored it for the last five years. I found comfort traveling with my partner and maybe unnoticeably relying on him too often to figure things out. 

So here I am again, facing the old fears and sitting with discomfort, trying to figure things out for the second time. But this time, I am not trying to fight it and get rid of it. This time, I want to understand it and use it like an artist. 

Why is solitude in public so uncomfortable?

I have always loved being alone. Solitude at home feels peaceful. But being alone in a public place, especially while traveling, hits differently. It feels vulnerable. Like my solitude is on display for others to look at.

But maybe the truth is: I’m not being watched. I am the one watching. 
And precisely that might be the reason I feel exposed. Because when you’re looking at the world closely, you become more aware of yourself too. 

Maybe ”watching” is not the right word. Maybe observing is better. And if it is observing, then it’s a natural task of an artist. 

What if I try to reframe my perspective and put myself into a role?
What if I am not here as a lonely traveler on vacation just trying to hаve the best time. But an artist on the assignment with a task to notice, collect and reflect. Maybe this discomfort I’m experiencing is actually fuel for new material, something I can process through creating and writing.

The pressure to enjoy

There is also this idea of seizing every moment, that just adds a quiet pressure at the back of your mind. Voice in your head telling you that you must relax, you must make every day count, and not waste this precious time. Which ironically just makes things worse.

But what if “making the most” of a trip doesn’t mean hitting all the landmarks or feeling good every second?
What if for some people it means paying attention to the internal shifts that happen when we step outside our comfort zone?

Then maybe being an observer, of both myself and the world around me, is not a distraction from enjoying the trip. Maybe it’s just a different kind of joy that’s equally worth it. 

Aloneness as a creative practice

I came to Bali hoping to fully enjoy my holiday and feel inspired by architecture, by colors, by streets and people.
But inspiration doesn’t always come from pure enjoyment and constant movement. Sometimes, it comes from sitting with discomfort, and turning it into something else.

Reframing the journey

My holiday has just started. So I want to shift my perspective — not to force joy or chase every experience, but to make space for whatever feelings show up. Even if it means “wasting” some time. 

Being alone in public, in a foreign country, doesn’t feel as peaceful as I had hoped. But maybe, like any other skill, it’s something you eventually get good at with repetition. 

Until then, I’m not here just to relax and go home. I’m here to observe, reflect, sketch, write. Like an artist on an assignment. 
To make the most of it — but in my own quiet way.