I notice how regular writing isn’t really part of my system, so these updates often come with a few months in between. This time around, the entry might get a little closer to my inner world, rather than focusing only on what’s happening around me whilst travelling.
After a short stay in the Netherlands, which involved some intense catching up with familiar faces, a DJ gig and lots of techno, I found myself steering the van towards Switzerland for the first time. Magic Wood, to be more precise.
After some ten hours of winding roads, beautiful valleys and lots of mountains, I arrived at a place I knew very little about. It was a crisp, sunny day, surprisingly warm given that it was October. The campsite was quiet, yet packed with tents belonging to people who had come out to climb for the weekend. After taking a moment to wind down and make some food, I decided to head out for a little session.
Throughout those first few days I noticed this feeling of anxiety lingering somewhere in the back of my mind. You see, as much as I love this lifestyle which, by sheer luck, found its way into my life, it does come with a price. Being so flexible and independent is rare, which also means that most people I meet are only around for a limited time before we eventually have to say our goodbyes.
At first, it didn’t bother me much. I got used to it. It’s part of travelling, after all. But there’s a difference between travelling and actually living on the road, and I’m beginning to realise that. Those first few days at Magic Wood were quite triggering. Everywhere I looked, there were established groups of friends and couples mingling, hanging out and eventually disappearing back into their everyday lives, wherever those may be.
Over the past year, I’ve gotten pretty good at inserting myself into these group dynamics. Connecting, figuring out who’s who, cracking an occasional joke. And yet, these connections often remain surface-level. Even when I manage to make the group laugh, there’s sometimes this feeling of being an outsider, almost as if I’m performing the role of someone who belongs.
Not because people aren’t welcoming, but because there’s rarely enough time for these connections to develop into something more.
Because of this, I made myself a little rule: travel slower. Whenever I find a place with good vibes, stick around for a couple of weeks at least. And even though I wasn’t particularly keen on paying €25 a night at Magic Wood, I ended up staying for at least a month, hoping to form some longer-lasting and more meaningful friendships.
To my surprise, things started happening quite naturally. A few friendships began to form with people who were sticking around for weeks or even months themselves. Through them, I got introduced to more people and places worth visiting. Before long, I found myself in Chironico, meeting even more people, some of whom were living a similar life on the road.
Eventually, it was back to Magic Wood. And then the most unexpected thing happened: I met someone. Someone very cute, special and dear to me. We vibed. A lot.
After having spent the entire weekend in each other’s arms and realisation that we were secretly looking for the same thing - we agreed to meet up again in Zurich which eventually turned into a much longer detour to Freiburg, Germany. A place I’m still exploring as I write this entry.
Somewhere along the road of living as freely as one possibly can in the 21st century, I started realising that perhaps being permanently on the move isn’t quite it.
It’s fun, thrilling and exciting, no doubt about that. But I also found myself missing something. An anchor, something grounding. A home base where I can unwind, reflect and simply take a breather. A place, and more importantly, people, to come back to. Somewhere to share stories from the road, catch up over a coffee and then head out to do it all over again.
Perhaps this is one of the biggest realisations since starting this way of life. And it naturally brings me to where I am now, exploring a town that seems to have plenty of potential, but also its fair share of challenges. For one, I hardly speak any German, and that familiar feeling of being an outsider still makes an appearance, followed by wave of anxiety and insecurity.
But that’s also part of moving abroad, isn’t it? When you leave your home country and culture behind, you enter this strange in-between space. Staying in Latvia back then simply wasn’t an option. There was a need to leave, change perspective and grow. And now, even if I were to return, I’d still feel like an outsider. Having lived abroad for so long - I’ve simply changed too much to fit in. The place has changed too in some ways, but in other ways - sadly not.
I got a taste of that during the three summer months I spent there. I enjoyed the nature, the quiet coastlines, the endless forests and the opportunity to experience the place properly again. And yet, something wasn’t quite sitting right. There were too many encounters with emotional immaturity, toxic masculinity and sexism, followed by that rather unpleasant experience with a far-right xenophobe at a local climbing gym. An incident which almost made me unsubscribe on the spot. Story for another time.
The point is, as beautiful and familiar as Latvia is, I couldn’t really see myself settling there. Sometimes a place can have plenty to offer and still not feel like the right place to be.
So the search continues. For a place that feels welcoming, has a bit of warmth to it, inspires creativity and, above all, offers the possibility of building something more permanent. Not necessarily giving up the freedom of the road, but finding somewhere that makes coming back just as appealing as heading out in the first place.
For now, Freiburg is part of that exploration. Time will tell where it all leads.
Scary top-out on “Blown Away 7B”
