LIVING UNSETTLED
Unsettled facilitates two-week and month-long retreats around the world for remote workers, from Peru to Porto, Marrakesh to Mexico City. Founders Michael Youngblood and Jonathan Kalan asked: ‘How might we design our lives more around experiences and less around consumption? ’A core concept is that a change of scenery and feeling ‘unsettled’ can offer fresh perspective and impetus for personal growth. People from various backgrounds can connect and collaborate in an inspiring environment, with the safety and structure of a group but with the freedom to shape their own adventure. The Unsettled team does all the legwork – researching local laws and customs, doing bookings, organising immersive experiences – which allows you to arrive ready to dive in. There is a set cost upfront, which covers home-style accommodation, a local SIM card and internet access, insider info on your location, a co-working space and group outings. From R32 300 ($2 200) for a month. beunsettled.co
kite-flying children, makeshift shopfronts (warungs as they’re known locally) and haggling curio vendors. It was a sensory journey too – the comforting domestic smells of laundry, cooking and incense burning, punctuated by polite tooting as drivers passed one another, and the vibrant sight of women in their traditional yellow and pink garb brightening up the already saturated scene. On these strolls I started a visual game to find the most impressive object being transported by scooter, and quickly lost count – whole families of up to five (baby sandwiched ‘safely’ in the middle), baskets of chickens, bunches of bamboo poles and bags of groceries. Balance is something the Balinese do well.
My own foray into scooter riding ended with a minor but unnerving injury on day three, and I quickly resigned myself to using air-conditioned cars for the duration of my stay. The upshot of this was meeting my driver for the month, Bambang ‘Nano’ Palgunadi. Balinese traffic is notoriously slow, and on our journeys his impromptu, in-transit lessons covered the Indonesian language, local delicacies such as bubur sumsum (a delicious, smooth rice pudding served with palm syrup) and trivia on cultural conventions. For example, children are named by order of their birth and once you reach four, you start again at one. Which is why Wayan (one), Made (two), Nyomang (three) and Ketut (four) are such common names throughout Bali.
A Hindu stronghold in the predominantly Muslim country of Indonesia, Bali is one of its many thousands of islands. With myriad historical, cultural, religious and political influences, it’s a place so complex it would be impossible to unpick the different layers. The people believe deeply in karma and this is reflected in every aspect of their lives – from the noticeable absence of crime to the respect and patience apparent in their daily dealings. The pride they have in their country is reflected in the way they dress, the devotion they have to everyday rituals and how they present everything beautifully as a devotion to the
‘I started a visual game to find the most impressive object being transported by scooter, and quickly lost count’
gods. Touching moments are found everywhere – from an especially vibrant floral offering on the floor outside a yoga class to a perfectly cut banana leaf placed under a simple sandwich.
Much like in ‘real life’, weekends were earmarked for excursions. Our first was riding shotgun on motorbikes to the Jatiluwih rice paddies north of Ubud. En route, our progress was slowed by a ceremonial procession (it seems there is one almost every day), and we followed the group of young men dressed in traditional outfits. No one hooted – we just idled slowly and enjoyed the spectacle.
Our next adventure saw us ascending Mount Batur, an active volcano in the northeast of Bali. The steep climb in the dark up the 1717-metre cone gave way to a breathtaking sunrise above the clouds, a spectacle well worth the 2am departure and easily the most memorable hike of my life.
We also planned a group breakaway to the Gili Islands off Lombok. After some research, we decided on Gili Air – in Goldilocks terms, it’s the middle ground between ‘party’ island Gili Trawangan and tiny Crusoe-esque Gili Meno. Gili Air was a dream, replete with all the tropical-island clichés. No motorised vehicles meant total tranquillity – the only means of getting around are bicycle, boat or horse-drawn carriage. For three days we took in kaleidoscopic sunsets, enjoyed cover bands on the beach and piña coladas with a kick. Barring being chased by a Komodo dragon while photographing some cows in a coconut grove, our experience of Gili was so idyllic that half the group extended their stay.
But each time I was happy to return to Ubud, which had quickly begun to feel like home. The peace of the villa and the familiar sound of the chickens next door, the golden light on the rice paddy down the road and the familiar faces at breakfast every morning – all of it filled me with the greatest sense of calm I’ve felt in many years.
One of the first things I was told when I arrived was: ‘Be careful what you wish for in Bali. It has a way of manifesting.’ I left having made real connections with people from around the world, and a sense of contentment best described as inner peace. A month prior I would’ve laughed at such a hippie term, but I challenge anyone to visit Bali and not come back with some tie-dye and incense sticks in their suitcase.