Stories

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The magic in between pause

Human theatrics on full display

No filters

Delirious sleepless fog

Sore feet

Sore shoulders

Checking your privileges, compliances and choices

Take down of your ego

Welcome deconstruction

How beautiful to remember your spark

How beautiful to remember your impermanence

In a rush? No one cares

Laugh at yourself

Laugh at your illusion that you ever had control

That first walk in a new town you’ve never set foot in before - yet how familiar it feels

Has my soul been here before?

No need to make sense of it

The heart knows

Tears of remembering

Let it flow

One step and then the next

Is this important to me?

Is it safe?

Is this the right decision?

Can I afford this?

Where is the atm?

Traffic chaos - no one stays between the lines, they dance together, weaving in and out in and out like making a tapestry only they have the tools for

Motorbike rides - I close my eyes and trust

Wind in my hair

Dust in my eyes

Overstimulated

Overjoyed

Alive

I sometimes wonder why I do this?

Why do I prioritise travel still at 38?

It’s a privilege to be able to roam but it’s not always comfortable let’s be honest, I’m not 20 anymore. This body hurts now and I still stay in budget accommodation / take local transport wherever I go.

Long flights, heavy backpack, flights and trains that are no longer as affordable as they used to be, dodgy train rides, unavoidable moments of - is this safe? - trust. Noise. Room for 1 but paying for 2. ‘No this is not my first time here.’ ‘I’m from Scotland’. ‘No I’m not married.’ Knowing when I’m being ripped off. Sometimes letting it go, sometimes not. Gotta pick your battles. Constant looks of confusion, bewilderment towards me … those are fine, and I smile. Hungry, lustful looks and degrading comments … those are not fine. I keep walking, not my fight today. Yes things are easier now, I have a phone with a map! A SIM card, a local number. A bit more money than I used to when I was 24. Those days all I had was a bag, some hope, and enough for one meal a day. Jumping on wrong trains and buses but somehow always ending up where I needed to be. Not to mention exhaustion, food poisoning, and hospital nights alone. I loved every second, even when I didn’t.

Then.

Then you walk down a side street and set your eyes upon the most beautiful little girl you’ve ever seen, smiling back at you, eyes wide and pure. Love.

Then you watch the sun come up over the mountains at 5am and something in your soul lights up, unexplainable but so deep it catches your breath.

Then you stop for a chai at the market and have the most open and honest conversation of your life with a stranger. We’re all the same.

Then you’re sitting on your final day of silence after 10 days. So full of gratitude, wondering how you ever existed before you knew this meditation technique.

Then you squeeze in a taxi with a local family and end up being invited to dinner with them. It’s the most delicious meal and most hilarious night you’ve ever had.

Then you say yes to a local guide who ends up sharing a view on death that is so profound you cry together about life, and how precious it is while bodies burn in the background.

Then you find yourself sitting on a beach watching the sun go down, surrounded by families laughing, dogs running around, the sound of the waves, chanting from the distant temples, and human life seem magnified. Your heartbeat is stronger than ever, you’re breath deep and free, and you realise. There are tears rolling down your cheeks, and you’re smiling.

This.

This is why.

Most of my travel experiences I don’t have images of. Some of it was before I had social media. But they are carved into my existence. Written into my book.

We are all stories in the end.