The Lost Feet

the lost feet
Give me endless plane rides
and bouncy overnight buses.
Give me days filled with stories
and starry nights.
Give me strangers and goodbyes.
Gently, let’s go somewhere new
to ignore the odds
and be destroyed in the most beautiful way.
In the deeper ways
Eating all of our unspoken words.
To make sense
of the chaos
Give me fireworks.
Give me places and people to feel
homesick for.
Give me the wander
and the lost feet,
and I promise
I will come for more.

 

Photo: Ivan Breslauer, Dingle, Ireland 2015.

The Search Is Beautiful

the search is beautiful

The search is beautiful.
The one where her mind and heart go to a place before unimagined. Where a blissful touch of summer warmth reveal the start of something new.
It caught her…
On winding roads… In the salty waters where the wondrous creatures swim. In between laughing with the like minded souls and warming her feet by the fireplace.
It caught her…
In all the quiet spaces, while marvelling at the moments that made her feel free.
Now she understands.
The search is beautiful and the fate is sealed.
Always moving, never the same.
Never calmed, constantly amending.
Truly it is another world when she packs the little she needs and begins to move.
Even where there may not be anything for others, she is where she wants to be…
In the smells of new places, completely drowned in wanderlust.
She is aware of the risks but doesn’t care, as she knows how soul-smashingly beautiful life can be.
Now she just can’t get enough.

An ode to the road trip. Three people in the car.
Nothing behind us, everyhing ahead of us, “as is ever so on the road” (Jack Kerouac)

What Brussels Has Taught Me

What Brussels has taught me

There is a saying that there is no bad luck. That someone from up there puts us in the right place, at the right time, for a reason. Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

 

I do. But why was I then at the Brussels airport on March 22 when the terrorist attack happened? The answer came in the form of a man who slept in a bed next to me. He wore a black hat.

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It’s Time

It is time

Hey you,

It’s time.

It’s time to chase that spark again.

 

Don’t you think so?

To think of the things you love.

Hey you,

It’s time.

Gather your scattered selves and make them whole again.

Rub your eyes because, I am sure it is time.

You learned the things hard way. You risked yourself in the world. You kissed the pain.

And now it’s time.

To find the way home.

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The Call of the East (Istanbul)

The call of the East
I sit in the waiting room and watch the snowflakes stick to the airplanes. While I wait for the boarding, my eyes glance across the man in front of me. In a business suit and with a stern face, he plays games on Facebook. He nervously presses the digits on his mobile phone, while his face remains perfectly still. ‘A little bit longer, a little bit longer, and you’re there’ – I keep telling myself. To the East. To the East. We finally depart. My first solo traveling this is.

 

To the East…

It seems to me that everyone who spends a lot of time thinking, eventually find themselves setting off for the East at some point in their lives. The truth, the magic of the East calls upon every one of us, but do we all hear its call?

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Longing for the There, and not the Here

Angkor wat, Cambodia
It is a curse.
To long for the there and not the here. For wander and sore feet.
It is a curse.
To be present, but never fully. To be a slave of an never ending desire for movement.  

 

When one decides to tame what shouldn’t be tamed – himself, it feels like slowly dying. Soul feels it. Feet became impatient residents of one’s body. Eyes are getting hungry while heart whispers silently: “This is not for me. This is not for me”. But shush dear heart, don’t make it even harder.

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Living in a Treehouse

Living in a tree house

I’m not sure if I should tell this story. What if it never happened? Did I really find such a place, I wonder now, months later?
I will put the words on paper. It’s up to you whether you believe me or not, when even I doubt myself.

 

Years before….

As I sat with my laptop, sipping a cup of tea and browsing through travel websites, resisting tomorrow’s going to work, I found them on Workaway. I shook the head in disbelief and promised myself that one day I will get there – the south of Thailand, on a paradise beach surrounded by dirt jungle paths.

More than two years after, mini van left me in the muddy street. The rain that held back all day cascaded down. The roosters curiously followed my steps to a new home.

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Unexpected adventures lead to amazing places

Unexpected adventures lead to amazing places
I don’t like when someone is trying to sell the story that traveling is free. It’s not. I was busting my ass to be able to buy a one-way ticket to Southeast Asia. It’s even harder when you come from the Balkans where one often has to work twice as much from someone from the more developed country, for the same income. Did that stop me from doing it? No. I spent two and a half years of working  while studying and doing my master’s in journalism, only to embark on an adventure. Was it hard? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yeah.

 

You never lose by giving your time 

People do volunteering jobs to make a positive difference in the world, to see other realities, save money and to make a change in the world. Yes, you give your time and don’t receive money but you never loose. With volunteering you can only gain.

Because I wanted to save money during the trip itself, I decided to volunteer in exchange for bed and if I was lucky – food. You choose a country, a job and voila, your resume is enriched for a new experience!

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The Bustle of Hanoi

 The bustle of Hanoi

Until the eleventh day I did not see streets wrapped in total blackness. Unearthly silence followed me to where taxi buses depart for airport. Even women street vendors have not spoken to each other. Quietly they lied piles of bananas and pineapples on heavy bicycles, getting prepared for another busy day in which they’ll need to earn enough Vietnamese Dongs to feed their families on the outskirts of Vietnam’s capital.

Good morning Vietnam

Despite the deep sleep in which the Old Quarter was in, it seemed as if the sun rose above the Hoem Lake intentionally, to throw its first rays on joggers, speed walkers and Tai Chi performers. At five in the morning even encouraged city rats came out to seek for food and most shocking, motorbikes drove without a single beep.

More and more people began to appear on the streets, opening their shops, pulling plastic chairs on the sidewalks and preparing their businesses for tourists.

Life in all its rawness was about to unravel on the streets of Hanoi.

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“I will find you”

I will find you

I don’t remember the exact moment when I find it.
Thai people walked in silence around the temple and I sobbed like a baby. They stared at me. I stared at the big golden Buddha in Nakhon Pathom. So after two and a half years of waiting I came to Thailand to cry? In front of the Buddha?! What happened to me?!
I felt oceans of sadness pouring out. There I was. Finally traveling. Finally doing things my way yet I cried and cried, wondering what launches an avalanche of strange feelings inside me.

 

I started walking. I glanced at the monk who stood silently next to me in orange robe. When the last tear dried I felt a frightening void. But footsteps became lighter. Breathing became slower and all of a sudden I could feel myself.
What changed?

Everything.

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