The Truth Behind the Global Nomadic Dream
This interview has been thoughtfully edited for length and enhanced clarity.
Alicia: As of this conversation, our passports have collected stamps from exactly 47 countries. Each stamp represents a unique chapter of our life, marked with unforgettable stories, hidden struggles, and moments of both exhilaration and exhaustion.
This journey didn’t exactly begin as planned; perhaps that makes it even more beautiful. We’ve wandered through bustling streets in Central America, inhaling the aromatic blends of street food and the soundscapes of local chatter. We’ve roamed the vibrant neighborhoods of South America, where murals don every corner and strangers soon become friends over shared meals. Europe opened itself to us like a venerable old book, offering history etched in cobblestones and evenings defined by terrace cafes and philosophical discussions. Our feet have treaded temples in Southeast Asia, serene and introspective spaces, and navigated East Asian metropolises, brilliantly illuminated with neon desires and futuristic aspirations.
Yet, Alicia often reminds me that each destination has been more than a picturesque postcard. Every journey brought us closer not just to cultures and cuisines, but also to the shared human experiences beneath the surface. These encounters taught us volumes, reminding us constantly, in her words, that “every place is a mirror—revealing something new about ourselves.”
People often believe this nomadic lifestyle is effortlessly glamorous. Truthfully, from the outside, it might look like one continuous, enviable adventure: glossy images of sunset-infused beaches, rooftop dinners, and picturesque remote cottages flood social timelines. But beneath the glamour lies the messy reality we rarely discuss—the long layovers, complicated accommodations, travel fatigue, loneliness of constantly saying goodbye, and adaptability stretched thin over countless unfamiliar places. Does that diminish the magic? Not necessarily, but it does ground the dream in authentic, messy humanity.
We’ve chosen Tirana, Albania, as a temporary home base, a place that paradoxically feels both undiscovered and comfortably familiar. Tirana isn’t Paris; its charm reveals itself subtly, in conversations over strong espresso, walks through humble city parks, and quiet evenings punctuated by distant music from lively cafes. “Sometimes,” as Alicia laughingly confessed last week while trying to navigate a confusing Albanian marketplace with nothing but hand gestures and an awkward smile, “the smaller the place, the richer the experience.”
Five relentless years living out of suitcases has shifted our idea of comfort, redefined our routines, and underscored the importance of simple joys—the perfect pillow, the certainty of having reliable Wi-Fi, or a familiar brand of toothpaste found unexpectedly on a shop shelf in Bali. Through these experiences, we’ve found meaning in the mundane. Small victories feel enormous, imperceptibly molding us into creatures of adaptability, gratitude, and resilience.
Yet, even amidst such richness, there were days colored by profound loneliness and the ache of displacement. It’s strange how surrounded by people one can still feel startlingly alone—particularly in a place entirely foreign. Do these moments of emotional uncertainty cast shadows over our memories? Maybe briefly. But the beauty of perpetual motion is its own treatment; knowing every moment balances between our nostalgic past and hopeful next step reminds us that human happiness ebbs and flows naturally.
One quiet evening in Kyoto stands out vividly in memory. Sitting at our humble Airbnb table, discussing our adventures over cups of steaming matcha tea, Alicia quietly quoted Rumi: “Travel brings power and love back into your life.” That night, I understood it deeply—travel doesn’t always provide answers, but it offers striking clarity about whom we choose to become, where our boundaries lie, and what fuels our passions.
Questions emerge through the journey itself, gentle yet persistent: How long can one continue in perpetual transit? At what point does wanderlust shift from a motivating force to a source of exhaustion? Does belongingness have to tether you to one place? Perhaps, true belonging isn’t geography-bound but resides within connections we cultivate and cherish along the way.
So far, 47 countries have etched themselves onto our souls. And yet, every journey feels as though it has only just begun. We’re grateful to be able to pause here, reflect, and share these truths—imperfections included. For each aspirational photograph we post, remember the unseen struggles, awkward language encounters, and late-night existential conversations behind it.
After all, perhaps the most valuable souvenir from travel isn’t trinkets or photographs—it’s the heightened awareness we carry of life’s contrasts, complexities, and profound interconnectedness.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
