When Plans Fall Apart—and That’s the Best Thing That Could Happen
I was headed to a regular, no-frills blockchain conference. Tickets to Tallinn—booked. Slides—polished. Pitch—rehearsed. Even the startup T-shirt was freshly washed for the first time in months.
But that morning, everything went off-script. Alarm didn’t go off. Elevator broke. The taxi got stuck in traffic. And there I was, suitcase in hand, staring at a closed check-in counter, feeling like an idiot. The only thought in my head: “That’s it—no conference, no investors, no rooftop coworking coffee.”
A Coffee Instead of a Conference
And then something strange happened: I didn’t rebook. I didn’t text frantic apologies. I just walked into the nearest café and thought: what if… I didn’t go back?
That’s how my first plan-free, open-ended world trip began. I just followed the warmth, low prices, and decent Wi-Fi.
Wine, Khachapuri, and the Art of Doing Nothing (Temporarily)
First stop: Georgia. I drank wine, ate khachapuri, and told myself this was a short break. Just a week or two. Then came Japan, Singapore, Colombia. A “week” turned into nine months.
The Suitcase Full of Slides—and a Life Left Behind
I carried the same suitcase everywhere—with a folder of printed slides from the talk. Just in case I needed to remember the idea. I opened it once in Mumbai, again in Sydney. Then closed it. Life kept distracting me.
From Freedom to Fake Structure: Addicted to Planning
At first, I wanted to feel free—no deadlines, no meetings, no hustle. But I quickly realized I was uncomfortable without a schedule. So I started building one from scratch. In Quito, I gave myself a Spanish sprint. In Lima, I researched scooter rentals. In Goa, I woke at 6 a.m. to structure my trip in Notion. Ridiculous? Yes. But I was obsessing even over rest.
Same Hustle, New Time Zones
I carried old code. As if I was still playing the same game—just from a different time zone. Every new place, first thing I did was look for a place to work. Coworking, coffee, Zoom sessions. Told myself I was just remote. Truth was, I was scared to stop. To really stop—and ask, “Who am I without this endless hustle?”
The Turning Point: A Village in Chile, No Laptop
The peak came in a remote Chilean village. Someone stole my laptop. My mission control—gone. I sat wrapped in a blanket, staring out the window, trying to remember why I even started traveling. When did this stop being joy and turn into just moving the same story around new backdrops?
The Journey Ends Where It Matters Most
I opened the suitcase—and there it was, like a scene from a movie: the startup T-shirt. Clean, folded, never worn. A little artifact from my old self. Funny, sweet, completely out of place.
That’s how I’d been carrying my old self this whole time. With all the same goals, worries, drive to “achieve.” I realized it doesn’t matter if you’re on a call with investors or in a tent on a beach—if you don’t shift internally, you're just dragging the same baggage across different countries.
The world trip didn’t end in Bali, or LA, or under the Eiffel Tower. It ended inside. The first time I allowed myself to just do nothing. No plans. No purpose. Just… be.
And that folder with the slides? Still in the suitcase. But now it’s a reminder that I can choose to be someone else—whenever I want.
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