The road has a way of unraveling you. You board a plane, a train, a boat, thinking you're simply moving through different places, but soon you realize—the journey is moving through you. The fleeting encounters, the unspoken understanding from strangers, the quiet acts of kindness—they all seep into your being, reshaping the way you move, the way you see, the way you feel.
This month’s blog post is a deeply personal one. Many of you know how much I love surfing, how I escape the winter to be near the ocean. Traveling and being away always brings me closer to myself, softens me, makes me feel more. So this time, I wanted to share something more raw, something that feels like a diary entry—because these kinds of trips are always the ones that nourish and transform me the most.
Lately, I’ve spent more time away from Berlin than in it. Some might say I’m running, others might say I’m slowly breaking up with the city. I love being on the road, but it drains me, too. I’m an extroverted introvert—I need my space, my solitude. With constant movement, the time to recharge slips away. Planning this surf trip felt like an overwhelming task (yes, I know—first-world problems), and at one point, I nearly canceled everything. The past year had drained me. The endless work, the travel, the packed schedule looming ahead. Locking myself away felt like the only option. My therapist would have called it a disaster, but it seemed like the safest way to manage the exhaustion.
And yet—spoiler alert—it was the best decision to get on that plane. Since arriving, I’ve done the exact opposite of what I had planned. I’ve let go. I’ve allowed myself to just be. No pressure, no expectations. And as it turns out, that’s exactly what I needed: to stop holding on so tightly and start receiving again.
You think you’re just here to explore, but your shadows travel with you. The fears, the past versions of yourself, the wounds you thought had healed—they show up uninvited, in quiet moments when there’s nothing left to distract you. And so, you listen.
I didn’t have a plan for this trip (besides surfing and working). No real goals. As I mentioned, I was so overwhelmed before leaving, so sick, that making it onto the plane felt like the biggest victory. But I knew I needed to break free from the cycle of stress. I needed to stop caring so much about my schedule, step back from my label for a moment, and truly listen to my body before it forced me to. I used to be an expert at burnout—pushing and pushing until I collapsed, then wondering why I felt so miserable. It was a pattern that once served me, but no longer does. If I want to accomplish everything I’ve set out for this year, I need to nurture myself first.
And so here I am, letting go completely. Ignoring unfinished tasks, leaving messages unanswered (sorry), being present, watching sunsets with a beer in hand, losing track of days, flirting, laughing, breathing. Meeting people who remind me how good it feels to open my heart without hesitation. Watching the sun dip below the horizon and realizing—for once—I’m not waiting for something else to begin. Floating in the ocean, surrendering to the waves, no longer resisting but trusting the tide to take me where I need to go.
Every time I travel, I meet people who leave their mark on me in the best way possible. I learn something new, or finally let go of something old. This time, it’s about surrender and flow, about opening my heart again. Taking everything as it comes, without labeling it. And my god, it feels good—I almost forgot I was capable of this. I’m in complete flow.
And of course, now that I am flowing, everything else follows. My surf, my connections, my happiness. It’s wild to think about how far I’ve come—years ago, stuck in a deep depression, sitting in rehab, unable to imagine a future. Yet here I am, alive, thriving, grateful beyond words for the life I’ve built (with plenty of help, of course).
This is what I take out of this trip: One day, you wake up and something feels different. The tightness in your chest has loosened, the walls around your heart have softened. You’re no longer clinging to things that were never meant to stay. Travel doesn’t give you answers, but it shifts you, breaks you open and rebuilds you. Piece by piece, city by city, wave by wave. And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, you become someone new. Someone lighter, braver. Someone who, finally, isn’t afraid to love again.
Have you planned your next travels yet?
xx baj.