CAMPING was something I used to do back in my school days. The last time I pitched a tent was probably during university. Then life happened, surrounding work, deadlines, responsibilities, and routines. Before I knew it, nearly two decades had passed.
And just like that, halfway through the year, I found myself stepping into the world of glamping. Perhaps it was time for a much-needed pause.
The moment we arrived at one of the popular glamping destinations in Janda Baik, nature welcomed us with its own symphony. Birds chirped endlessly from the trees, crickets sang into the evening, while insects filled the silence with their own gentle lullaby.
It was a reminder that the world never truly sleeps, even deep in the jungle. Nature carries on 24 hours a day, long after humans retreat into their tents and cabins.
What amazed me most was not the scenery, but the stillness.
The weekend felt serene and peaceful, yet at first, slowing down felt strangely uncomfortable. Perhaps we have become so accustomed to constantly moving around, from working, scrolling, planning, rushing, to performing. And when life finally gives us permission to pause, we no longer know how to settle into the rhythm of quietness.
The absence of constant digital noise was the first thing I noticed. There were no notifications lighting up the screen, no urgency to reply to messages, and no endless scrolling to fill in the gaps of silence.
And maybe that is exactly why experiences like this matter.
One thing glamping taught me was the art of becoming comfortable with the uncomfortable. In this case, it meant learning to coexist with nature in its rawest form, for instance, getting comfortable with insects, bugs, and unfamiliar creatures that seemed to appear from every corner. Some were harmless, some intimidating, and a few were shockingly huge.
Of course, nature had to give me one dramatic encounter. At one point, I spotted a cockroach in the room nearly the size of my palm. Safe to say, that was not part of the peaceful retreat I had imagined.
Still, there was something oddly grounding about it all.
It reminded me that nature does not adjust itself for our comfort. It does not soften its edges or quiet its presence just because we arrive seeking relaxation. Instead, it invites us to adapt, to accept, and sometimes even to laugh at our own expectations of control.
Going with a group of friends made the experience even more meaningful. We slowed our pace, allowed our conversations to wander freely into the night, and gathered around for a barbecue session while carefully ensuring the mosquito coils were lit beforehand. The simplest moments somehow felt fuller when we were away from notifications and endless distractions.
Without the usual interruptions of daily life, conversations felt different. They were no longer rushed or fragmented. Instead, they unfolded naturally, from lighthearted jokes to deeper reflections about life, work, and the need to occasionally step away from it all.
Despite the insects, jungle sounds, and unfamiliar surroundings, we slept like a baby that night. The sounds of nature became a soothing soundtrack, one that city life could never replicate.
In between those moments, I was reminded of my childhood Sundays. Back then, we would make our way to my grandfather’s farm, spending hours running freely through the fields, playing outdoors, and eating fresh cockles together. Life was slower then, and simpler too, where communication was expressed through shared meals, laughter in open spaces, and presence without distraction.
In many ways, this glamping trip brought me back to that same form of connection. It becomes a gentle reminder of a version of life we often forget exists. One where slowing down is not laziness, silence is not emptiness, and nature has its own way of healing the tired parts of us.
With the mid-term holidays approaching, this could be the perfect excuse for us to step away from the busy rhythm of city life and immerse ourselves in nature once again.
And who knows what inspiration we may discover during such a retreat, or what kind of healing the forest may quietly offer?
Along the way, we may even form new friendships, reconnecting not only with nature but also through meaningful conversations with the people around us.
Regardless, one thing is certain: somewhere amidst the trees, the silence, and the simplicity, we may just rediscover a sense of inner peace and calm that modern life often takes away.
At this time, wait no longer. Pack your bags and get ready to be amazed by what nature has in store for you. You may be surprised to find that when you return to work, your perspective on life has changed too.
Happy holidays!
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at Shirley.suat@gmail.com.
