I feel like sharing the events that led up to my decision to ‘travel the world’, because it wasn’t just a messed up job situation. In fact, the idea is much – much older.
It all started here:
This is the Ronda valley in Andalusia, Southern Spain.
I was 17 years old when I set foot here, and I came so unprepared for the beauty that Spain would bestow on me! This was my first time hiking the plains and mountains. My first time camping abroad. My first time travelling with a backpack.
I remember the exact second I took this picture. I remember the smell of the yellow flowers and the pressuring presence of those clouds in the heat. This image captures the moment where I discovered I am a traveller. Suddenly, my heart realised there is a world out there: a planet waiting to be explored. Continue reading How far I’ll go→
I’ve been working in the same company ever since I graduated ten years ago. It’s a good job with nice colleagues and lot’s of benefits. It’s in the city where I’ve studied and now live for six years. Convenient in every possible way. And yet last week I handed in my three months notice. I quit. I also handed it the notice on my flat a month ago.
From September onwards, I won’t be found wandering familiar cobblestone streets. If all goes well, I’ll instead be on the road with nothing but a backpack and some hard earned savings to spend. Yes, it’s scary. I very well realise this decision has the potential to be either the best or worst choice I’ve ever made…
Things leading up to it include 12 years of dreaming about world travel, a recent burn-out and an unusual flare of bravery. I can write at length about my motivations and obstacles, but won’t in this post (surely there are more entries to come).
For now, this is all I’m willing to share.
I will soon finish the blog-series on my Camino2017 (which was halted last month, because I couldn’t tell that story without giving away my plans of resigning). After that, there is a new series on Scotland to come before I aim for broader horizons.
I’m uncertain yet exited. Scared yet confident. And I probably haven’t done anything this brave/stupid in my entire life.
Melaka is the place where I admitted defeat and succumbed to the heat. Those first days in Singapore were hard, undoubtedly. Sticky, yes. But tolerable. I spent the whole day outside, did a fare share of walking and still managed to keep my back straight and my eyes open. On my second day in Melaka, however, I felt so bad that I had to spend the afternoon in café shade under a fan, drinking colourful drinks and fueling on spicy food.
But let’s start where it all began.
I said goodbyes to Ayako at one of Singapore’s bus stations.
It took me surprisingly long to find the right corner on the right street and that annoyed me tremendously, not just because it meant more minutes in the scorching sun but mostly because Ayako was trotting at my side and I felt like doing a really lousy job at travelling.
The bus station was more of a rundown parking lot and I didn’t even need to enter it because apparently my bus would stop right on the street. When the vehicle arrived it didn’t look as advertised at all. The advertisement showed the same bus alright, when it had rolled out the factory 20 years ago. The seats were so worn some of the padding was falling off and all colours and paint were fainted, however the ride turned out to be comfortable none the less. Immigration at the Malaysian border went much smoother than I could have ever imagined; even though the guys in front of me were asked plenty of questions, I got a mere smile and a swift stamp in my passport. Jackpot. Continue reading Melaka, Malaysia: Heat Struck→
My take on the world and the things I love. Prominently among them: travel, art and the ordinary. I share my discovery of our beautiful world, my self and the arts I'm trying to develop (photography, sketching and writing) in a way that is both honest and poetic. Please join my journey.