If you ever feel the urge to lose yourself—to escape the noise of the modern world and rediscover a more honest version of yourself, then this island is exactly where you need to be. It’s a place that seems untouched by time, wrapped in silence, solitude, and the gentle embrace of nature. Stepping onto the island feels like stepping into a dream, or perhaps a forgotten story. Here, in this hidden corner of the world, you could almost imagine yourself as Alexander Selkirk—cast away not by fate, but by choice. And like him, you might just find not isolation, but clarity.
The environment is beautifully secluded, almost sacred in its silence. Tall trees sway softly, their leaves whispering secrets to the breeze. Birds sing gently from unseen perches, and the waves lap calmly against the rocky shore, creating a rhythm that is soothing, eternal. There is a stillness here, a kind of peace that settles into your chest and makes you breathe a little deeper. Every step you take feels like it leads you further inward—not just into the island, but into yourself.
To travel from one side of the island to the other, we used a small wooden boat. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a simple vessel with two oars, quietly slicing through the clear water. My friend, skilled in handling the boat, guided us gently across the narrow channel that separated the island from the mainland. The ride was slow, almost meditative. We drifted over water so clear we could see fish darting below, and sunlight poured down like golden syrup, warming our shoulders and making the surface of the lake sparkle.
That day was one of the most peaceful I’ve ever known. Once on the other side, we came upon a small, charming restaurant nestled among trees near the water’s edge. It was a simple wooden building, with open windows letting in the breeze, and a covered patio that looked out over the lake. There were only a few tables, and the aroma of freshly cooked food drifted out into the air, pulling us in like a magnet. The meals they served were simple but full of flavor—grilled fish, warm bread, fresh fruit, and soup made from island herbs. Maybe it was the hunger from rowing or maybe it was the purity of the setting, but everything tasted better than usual. It was food that nourished both body and soul.
We spent hours there—eating, laughing, talking little, but feeling much. And later, when the sun began to dip low and the sky turned amber, we found a quiet spot by the water and simply sat, letting the silence wash over us. This island, with its untouched beauty and rare stillness, isn’t just a place to visit. It’s a place to be. A place to let go of noise, of hurry, of distractions. A place where you can hear your own thoughts again. Where you can rediscover who you are, not by searching outward, but by listening inward. It is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful places to get lost—and found—all at once.
