Date: October–November 2024

A solo journey that cracked me open in the best way—slowly, gently, like light breaking through mountain mist.

It began in Slovenia, where I wandered the Julian Alps, letting the silence of the high trails mirror the quiet within me. I spent nights by Lake Bohinj, surrounded by golden larch trees and a quiet that felt sacred. The mornings were cold and clear. Time slowed. I sat at the water’s edge, journal in hand, and let the stillness speak. For the first time in a long while, I felt no urgency—just presence.

From there I took a train through the mountains and arrived in Florence, where beauty is a language spoken in stone, shadow, and sunlight. Walking along the Arno River at dusk, watching the Ponte Vecchio glow, I remembered my love for old cities—the way history presses against you and stirs something ancient inside. Florence reminded me how alive beauty can be when you meet it with open eyes.

Sardinia was a dream. I flew into Alghero, rented a car, and let the road guide me. I swam in the turquoise waters of La Pelosa and wandered the wild coastlines near Stintino. I ferried to La Maddalena Island, where time evaporated and the sea seemed to breathe around me. One night, I watched the sun melt into the horizon from a cliff near Olbia, alone but not lonely. The solitude felt like a blessing—a mirror, a medicine.

I continued north to Vienna, where classical music drifted from quiet cafés, and the city glowed under soft autumn light. In Budapest, I bathed in ancient thermal waters, walked across the Danube at midnight, and let the contrast of East and West stir a deeper knowing in me. There’s something about Central Europe—elegant and wounded, proud and mysterious. It made me reflect on my own dualities.

This trip wasn’t about checking off places. It was about moving through the world as a listener again. I boarded trains and flights with no agenda but to feel free—to meet myself in new light. I met strangers, exchanged stories over espresso and wine, and found meaning in brief encounters.

I remembered how much I love being alone with the world. Not escaping life—but returning to it.