I went into this trip not knowing entirely what to expect from this island nation. I armed myself with a start and end date, the names of a few volcanoes, a list of islands to pass through and an open, curious mind. But of course, the best adventures always start out this way.

Indonesia was a country of contrast. Untouched beaches and traffic-ridden cities. Ancient Hindu temples and neon-painted mosques. Bright blue crater lakes and dark green tea fields for as far as the eye can see.

I always find it strangely fascinating to visit places like these that cannot be easily defined or labeled. Yes, Indonesia is a predominantly Muslim country but no, that isn’t its only major religion. Yes, Indonesia has more than 17,000 beautiful islands but no, they aren’t all small–it is the 4th most populated country in the world, after all.

It is religious and rich in culture, but each island has its own. Its nature is dramatic and beautiful, but its landscape isn’t easy to describe. Many locals were curious and kind, but they cannot be labeled by a single skin tone or set of gestures. Weeks later, I still can’t quite figure Indonesia out. And I don’t think I ever will–but that’s the beauty of this place. It will always leave you wondering.

Nonetheless, Indonesia is what I like to call a create-your-own adventure. You can skim the surface of an island or two, or you can dive deep into islands that most have never heard of. You can go days without seeing locals or you can go days without seeing another foreigner. Whatever it is you’re looking for here, there is no doubt you’ll be able to find it. Or perhaps you’ll find something you weren’t meaning to look for, too. Maybe you’ll find out how wonderful this something is and you’ll forget what you were looking for in the first place. This is travel, after all.

One of my newfound favorite travel lessons reappeared on this trip, just as it did in Nepal earlier this year. I embarked on a 3-day trek to the top of Mt. Rinjani, the 2nd tallest active volcano in the country. My two travel buds didn’t want to accompany me so I found a tour group leaving the next morning, put my name down on a list and prepared myself for whatever lay ahead of me. Little did I know how amazing that “whatever” would be.

I met a group of European strangers from Switzerland, Germany, and France and the first American I had seen in almost two weeks. The intensity of the elevation change and the long, grueling hours would bring us together to lift each other up and carry the conversation towards the refugee crisis and Sharknado 1, 2, 3 and 4 in an effort to forget how much pain we were in. And, most of all, it would bring us to the top of this 3,700-meter volcano.

The feeling of being on the top was elating. We had begun our day at 2AM in order to reach the summit for sunrise, with the last 500 meters proving to be one of the most difficult climbs of my life thus far. But this wasn’t even the highlight of the day. The highlights were hiking downhill as the planet awoke, sharing the lovely company of new friends. Or falling on my leg to develop a watermelon-sized bruise, crying out in pain at the time and laughing it all off later. The highlights were layered with sweat, tears of pain, tears of joy, laughs, muscle stiffness and challenges without bounds. The highlights were all of the hike: the experience as a whole. And here, I am reminded once again: we come for the destinations, but it’s the journey that we remember. And what a wonderful journey it was.

Thanks for the memories, Indo. I hope to skim the surface of your other 16,996 islands someday.