Islands can bring out the hermit in people, as it seems–and conversely, the social butterfly. Some who go to islands voluntarily either do so out of the desire to cut themselves off, at least partly, from social pressures and demands or come to embrace the opportunity that appears when they’ve become islanders. But involuntary islanders, the marooned (whether by shipwreck or by job transfer), can often feel contact-deprived. Suddenly people who had no particular desire for company on a regular basis feel socially abandoned and hungry; who knew?
Me, I have never lived on an island. Certainly never been set adrift and stuck on one against my will. And I happen to have pretty serious hermitage skills when I want to haven them: I’m a master at finding the quietest, remotest, emptiest corner of any place when I sincerely desire it. So I don’t generally have to wrestle through either of those dire, trying situations mentioned above. And also, I don’t really expect to run into such a situation any time soon.
That means I rather like my visits to islands, which visits are thus far entirely intentional (unless you count wrong turns onto bridges leading to them), and I like aloneness enough to seek it. Even on an island, if need be. Truthfully, though, I’m quite happy to visit islands any time I can, for holidaying purposes. Whidbey Island, Molokai, Ireland, Vancouver Island, Puerto Rico . . . I will be glad to return to these and visit many another any time I might have the chance. Let me wander inland and explore the beauties beyond the islands’ perimeters. Perch me on a rock by the shore and I will be happy, no, delighted to spend my time in good company or solitude, either one.
Art-Colored Glasses 
I lived on an island for nearly 3 years – a fairly big one, but nonetheless an island. I miss certain aspects and others not – we can make the best or worst wherever we are.
Have a beautiful day dear Kathryn.
🙂 Mandy xo
It’s interesting . . . last night I was watching some program about Hawaii and realized that much of the time when I hear people referring to ‘island life’ it’s clear that the assumption is of tropical (and usually, resort-like) islands and adventures thereon, but of course most of the islands I’ve visited or know people who inhabit are quite a bit more varied than that. Fascinating to me how much variety there is not only on the whole planet but even within relatively small and self-contained parts of it! Hope your current part of the world is lovely this weekend!
xoxo
Kathryn
There are long stretches where I forget that I live on an island, even though it’s a small one…But, if I EVER get to the point where I won’t cross The Bridge without packing an overnight bag, someone PLEASE shoot me? 🙂
It’s silly for *any* of us to get root-bound in any spot; much more fulfilling to relish the beauties of our own locale but rejoice in what’s all around us, as well as the far-flung, too! As I know you do! Hugs to you and yours. xoxo
I lived on Isle of Arran for four years. “Who knew” indeed. The part of you that you didn’t know existed and hey presto, you miss folks!
Ah, another of the many, many islands to mark on my to-visit-Someday list. With, perhaps, a preemptive apology for any incursions by my Norse ancestors. It seems they were exceedingly busy in the region in their day–island fever of their own sort, perhaps? Or were the Vikings the original Perpetual Travelers? In any case, yes, it’s intriguing to me how the isolation inherent in island existence can be both positive and negative, sometimes simultaneously.
By coincidence, in my post today I mentioned that the ancient Romans used the word insulae, meaning islands, to refer to apartment houses. On islands like those you could have expected anything but isolation (a word that means literally ‘the state of being made into an island’).
Yet again, our own languages can give us many a clue to help us understand our attitudes, experiences and understandings. Thanks!!
Have not felt it but know those who say, “Island fever is real”…
So I’ve heard, too!