Exactly ten years ago, I spent three months backpacking in Indonesia. Back then, communications weren’t as easy as they are now. The Internet was in its beginnings, and certainly wasn’t readily available over there. It was my first trip ever and I was as disconnected and isolated, alone with my thoughts, as I would ever be in my life.

I have to admit I was horribly homesick in the first few weeks. I wondered how I’d make it through months of this. I was surprised and disappointed with myself that that was my reaction; I would have been proud to feel a sense of excited discovery, but homesickness, that seemed unexpected and weak to me. But there it was.

During that period, I was happy if I dreamed I was home; it felt like I got a vacation from my vacation, like I got to enjoy familiarity and my loved ones’ company, just for the span of a dream.

Little did I know there would be times, ten years later, when I would enjoy a short return to Bali or Java, just for the span of a dream.