I spent my final week on Sumatra at Rimba, a remote ecolodge on a roadless stretch of coast one hour by boat from Padang. There, I rented a rattan-and-bamboo room with beach access and a view of the Indian ocean for $18 a night, including three meals a day at the dining lodge, and full access to the eco-resort’s swimming and sea-kayaking equipment.
Not only did I not lock my room when I was there – Rimba is so isolated that the rooms didn’t even have locks. The eco-resort mainly caters to wildlife watchers, as the trees along the beach host gibbons and macaques, hornbills and kingfishers. I spent most of my time there reading, writing, swimming, and hiking in the adjacent jungle.
I realize that these “gee, look at my pristine digital-nomad office” photos, like the one I’m using here, are something of a social-media cliché, but I really did a lot of work in this hammock during my time on this stretch of the Sumatra coast. (I also did a lot of office work, and general reading, in my beach cottage, as well in the loft over the Rimba dining hall, but it’s hard to beat this spot for simple photogenic bliss.)
Travel can compel you to play games with your day, but also your life. You find yourself imagining yourself what it might be to live in a place like this for a longer stretch of time — slowing down, organizing each day around simple tasks, and soaking in the quiet thrill of familiar experiences in a new place.
This is an admittedly self-indulgent reverie, but I’ve felt it in other sleepy, inexpensive beach places – places like Punta del Diablo in Uruguay, or Tofo in Mozambique, or even Lake Toba (where my Sumatra journey began almost three weeks earlier) on another part of this island. I stayed several nights in each place, all the while imagining myself putting life on hold for several months – eating healthy, swimming every day, spending next to nothing, reading all the books I’d been meaning to read but had been putting off.
One great thing about staying on this span of the Sumatran coast is the way it attuned me to things that happen every day, whether or not I pay attention – things like the majesty of sunsets and the complexity of clouds and the intricate synergy of ants bringing food up a tree. Even as I brandished my laptop and did work at Rimba, I was attuned to my surroundings in a way I wish I could be when I’m at home (and perhaps this means I should find ways to re-create this attitude when I’m at home).
Note: “Dispatches” are short vignettes, profiles, and mini-essays written and posted from the road, often in tandem with my Instagram account. For more full-formed writing, check out my book Marco Polo Didn’t Go There, or the Essays or Stories archives on this site. I don’t host a “comments” section, but I’m happy to hear your thoughts via my Contact page.
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