When You Try to Be a Travel Agent And End Up Regretting Not Using One

🌴 Dear Diary,

It all started with a TikTok.

Some girl was in Bali, sipping a coconut on a swing over a cliff, and I thought: That should be me. I deserve that swing. So I said the nine deadliest words in travel planning:

“How hard can it be to book it myself?”

Reminiscing on how much I regretted saying, “I didn't need a travel agent”. 

🎯 Stage 1: The Delusion

I opened my laptop. I told my friends, “I’m gonna book this trip myself. Travel agents are great, but like… this isn’t 1998. I’ve got Google. I’ve got apps. I’ve got vibes.”

I was high on Pinterest boards and false confidence.

I started booking: flight here, guesthouse there, scooter rental on WhatsApp. A boat tour through a guy named Made who promised “no bad surprises :)” I also planned a day for the swing. I had to experience the swing and coconut water.

I felt unstoppable.

⛅ Stage 2: The Illusion Cracks

The flight had a 9-hour layover in “Alternate Airport (near Manila)”—a location so vague it might not have legally existed.

The “eco-lodge” I booked turned out to be a bamboo hut with a mosquito net made of hope.

I asked the host about hot water. He pointed to the river. I pretended not to see that.

Also, I forgot to check the visa requirement, so I ended up at the immigration counter with no printed documents, sweaty palms, and a very angry customs officer.

🎒 Stage 3: The Day Everything Unraveled

Let’s talk about the boat tour.

I showed up at the dock on time. There was no boat. There was, however, a goat.

The man named Made eventually arrived—on a moped. “Change of plans,” he said cheerfully. “My cousin take you now!”

His cousin’s boat was more floating cutting board than vessel. It had one paddle, no life jackets, and an ominous stain I didn’t investigate.

I spent the next three hours clinging to a wooden bench while being slowly poached by the sun. The "snorkeling gear" was a cracked pair of goggles that smelled like regret.

📵 Stage 4: WiFi Was a Lie

I tried to contact my guesthouse to let them know I’d be late. There was no service.

The one café with WiFi? “Closed today for cousin’s wedding.” Like, no joke. It literally said that!

I ate a suspicious pastry and considered my life choices. A child offered me a coconut. I accepted. The coconut leaked. I accepted that, too.

🧘 Stage 5: Acceptance (And Booking a Flight Home)

I finally made it back to my room. I sat down. I stared at the wall.

The trip had been… humbling.

There were moments of beauty, sure. A monkey did sit on my head once. I saw a waterfall. I cried under it.

But mostly, I learned this truth: travel agents were worth every penny.

They didn’t just book stuff. They protected your sanity.

🌴 Bonus Scene: The Swing That Never Was

And no, I didn’t even get to swing like the lady on TikTok.

By the time I made it to the famous cliffside spot, I was sunburned, slightly dehydrated, and emotionally feral. The line for the swing was 45 minutes long, full of influencers and one man holding a ring light for his girlfriend, like his life depended on it.

I stood there, watching her sip from her perfectly chilled coconut, her dress flowing like a shampoo commercial. Meanwhile, I was wearing a tank top that had become one with my skin and smelled vaguely of boat goat.

Then a staff member came over and said the swing was temporarily closed… due to "technical issues."

At that point, I just nodded and went along with whatever I was told.

So I took a photo next to the swing, cropped it strategically, and posted:
"Living my best life 💕🌴 #BaliBliss"

Lies. All lies.

📞 Epilogue: My Redemption Arc - Welcome home, Inosia!

I come home, an extra shade of black (not that anyone could tell) and emotionally unstable. I called the travel agent and told her my story . She laughed, and I cried.

I vowed to one day become the travel agent who owns a passport wallet, pays attention to entry requirements, and doesn’t mess around. Now here I am as an Onvigo Independent Travel Advisor.

This time, when I say to myself, "I want to have something relaxing.”

I can reply, “I've got you, for real this time".

I cry a little.

So yeah. Book with a travel agent. Unless you enjoy financial chaos, emotional damage, and near-death boat experiences.

In which case… Godspeed.