Does It Feel Like Last Time?

No, it isn’t as daunting as it once seemed. Traveling is supposed to get easier the more you do it, much like life itself.

I feel strong and wise—genuinely wise. There’s no need for me to be commodified or profitable; instead, I see things as they truly are.

Last time, I let a bitter blow throw me off course. Despair breeds impulsiveness, and I’ll admit I’m no better than anyone else. Love is a worthwhile distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. I had never considered the idea of a support network before. It’s very much my goal in Madrid: to find people who remind me that a setback does not require a reset. This is up to me to obtain. To earn.

Now, I begin something new, knowing that the lessons I’ve learned will be tested and must not be forgotten.

It’s easy to be the exotic stranger, the mysterious outsider. But this time, I seek something different. I want to be surrounded by people who understand my strength and whom I recognise as equals. I want us to let go of the notion of lost potential—it no longer exists. Because I’ll be there, you’ll be there, and we could have been anywhere else.

I’ll start as the exotic stranger, and I’ll always have the ability to slip back into that role whenever I choose. The choice is what I crave. As Don Draper said, “If you don’t like what’s being said, change the conversation.” The exotic stranger isn’t burdened by the cans and cants of his past, the shoulds and needs, the negative assumptions. No one tells me what makes me uncomfortable.

But this doesn’t feel like last time. Now, I sit and watch the cars go by, losing myself in thought. I hold back judgment, knowing that soon, I’ll be among people who crave more—the kind of more that I seek, whatever that may be. Expats are many things, but one thing is certain: they are on the run.

As am I. Assumptions become reality, so make sure the people around you assume the best. If not, leave... change the conversation.

I’m still unsure what connections I seek. Authenticity and comfort come to mind—to be known. People who are compassionate about my struggles yet have undoubted confidence in my resolve. Traveling allows me to better understand myself, reminding me I am not complete. None of us are, nor will we ever be. People have asked, “Why Madrid?” and before, “Why Cambodia?” I’d reply with a diatribe detailing the work awaiting me. In truth, the answer is simple: “Because they will have me.”

I feel a weight I thought I had shed. While surface-level relationships may lack depth, they have their benefits—chiefly, everyone remains happy. A utopia is performed, and it’s easier to leave knowing that smiles won’t fade. It’s painful to scratch beneath the surface. Yet I’ve gained a burdensome knowledge that can’t be ignored. Perhaps that’s why family life feels so performative—the love is too intense to bear the pain they’ll inevitably feel. They’re human too, after all. Good days, bad days, stresses, health concerns—they’re human too. It’s all a bit daunting when you’ve been away for so long; incremental changes suddenly feel drastic. Panic sets in. It’s like standing too close to a majestic yet dangerous animal. Admire from afar, but don’t get too close—it’s wounded. I guess this is why travelers are often loners; it’s the only way to survive and continue.

I know I’ll feel weightless when I leave. There will be too many distractions; it will be impossible not to be present.

Open your eyes and learn. That’s where your autonomy lies. Embrace your vulnerability. Two years ago, I was anxious every time I left my flat. Scared my legs would give way. I would start walking fast, pull up my hood, and eventually start sprinting. Hiding my vulnerabilities from others—no one could see me feeling that way. The thought of flying to Europe was almost unbearable. Therapy gave me the tools to embark on my three-month solo trip in 2022. 2023—immigrated to Cambodia. 2024—moving to Spain. I can do anything, you can do anything.

In just a few pages, I’ll be in Spain.

Cheers.