Escapism

A couple of weeks ago, I did something to satisfy a yearning that had been brewing for two or three months already: I took a trip. Alone.

The reason was not so much on trying the independent thing as escaping. From everything: school, work, OLA, clients, secretaries, students, and everything in between. Eventually it became an escape from everything that would connect me to anything.

The objective was to spend a few days in some place where nobody knows your name. By the time the final exams and hearings of the previous semester were over, I only had a few days left to arrange everything for the escape. So I set to work. I asked a friend to book me a roundtrip flight to anywhere. My only condition was the place not to require a visa. She did not disappoint. Having the destination picked out for me, I searched the internet for a place to stay in.

Browsing the internet for hotels in the main island turned to be a tedious process. It took me a few days to finally choose a hotel with beachfront property and somewhat isolated from the clusters of resorts. I relied on its website (although that it was a worldwide hotel chain did help tremendously in making the decision) as well as reviews and photos posted by prior guests in websites like lonelyplanet.com and tripavisor.com.

One thing that struck me was how hotels are rated now. In addition to the usual room size, quality of the bed, room service, and the like, two things that was constantly boasted by the hotel owners, and reviewed by hotel guests, were (free) in-room access to WiFi and use of a business center for a computer, telephone, fax machine, and other telecommunication devices. These facilities are now indispensible to be considered a good hotel. It was common to see owners advertising their hotels as a little piece of paradise, a place to unwind while keeping connected to work. As the objective of my trip was to get away from it all, connection to my part of the world was precisely what I was avoiding. Needless to say, such claims decreased their chances of scoring a lone guest willing to pay for two.

To make the long story short, every detail of my trip were arranged online. Hotel reservation was made entirely online. The cab I hired to provide my airport transfers as well as go around the island and nearby cities was contacted through his website (yes, the cab driver had a website) and email. Even the activities I tried out were arranged online. Everything was arranged online. And as soon as I exploited the convenience provided by the technology, I turned my focus on escaping from it.

For the entire duration of the escape, I removed all connections to school, work, and everything else. Only messages from friends (who knew of my plans, thus knew better than to disturb me with the things I was escaping) were entertained. There was a conscious effort not to bring my laptop. Since my phone was web-enabled and had email functions, I left it in the in-room safe for the most part of my trip. Calls were unanswered, messages ignored. I had actually reached a point where I was repulsed by everything that connected me to my world.

Probably most, if not all, of the advancements in communications technology, and well as improvements in its accessibility, are designed to bring everyone, wherever they may be, closer, easier. But it reaches a point where it becomes suffocating. A point where you cannot help but curse technology for bringing you closer. A point where you hope that, with all sincerity, if you ignore it, maybe it will just disappear.

It may be unfair to blame technology. But it's just easier since it cannot retaliate. At least not yet.

Danielle Rieza

1st entry