I was on the road for a month, came home for a while to unpack and wash some dirty clothes, then headed out again with clean laundry in my bag. I was traveling alone, again. It began in Kyiv, Ukraine, to El Nido, in the Philippines, and ended up in Ubud, Bali on October 7. The journey had been amazing. It was both mind-blowing and heart-warming. I could not imagine how does it feel for those who had been on the road constantly for 8 months, a year, two years—and I met loads of them along the way.
When I started last September, I thought when I got home I would be busy writing as well as posting stories and pictures, because—why, of course there would be so many things to tell, and too many things to share!
But that was not the case.
The truth is, I still couldn’t get myself to write anything about the places I had visited, the people I had met, or the things that had happened to me—because I simply wasn’t ready.
There were days when I just left my camera in my hostel room; or days when I actually carried it in my bag; but didn’t even bother to capture anything—just because I wanted to be ‘here’ with the whole of my being. There were days when I left my guidebook on my bed and just strolled along the city I barely knew; tried to strike conversations in local language with random people I bumped into; welcomed some strangers’ invitations to hit the street and explore what each crossings had to offer…
The journey had been both liberating and overwhelming; in a sense that: well, I experienced much more first-times in one single month compared to what I had experienced in the last 5 years. That was surprising. Such an eye-opener. And it seemed like wherever I went, people kept sending me this message: “Enjoy the moment. Relax. Don’t rush.”
So, I did. And the result was just amazing, it hit me so hard I felt like I had become a new person. I had become more of myself.