56° North

The most common question asked since I came back to Europe. Every time I get this question, I imagine my face looks something between weirdly confused and shocked. Why didn’t I?

And indeed, why wouldn’t I wanna settle on an island? Find a job in Auckland. Learn how to stand on a surfboard (I’m becoming less and less ambitious about my surfing career). Then start a business in South Island and enjoy the mountains whenever I please?

From what I heard it seems pretty straight forward- you just need to find a sponsor. Even travellers working in cafes get sponsored by their employers. And if you are a nurse, they will roll out a red carpet upon your arrival. In these terms, kiwis seem to be super welcoming unlike the big island just west of them.

But I left. Actually,` when I went to NZ I only planned to go there for a month. I missed my sister. It felt wrong to be so far away and go work for a bank. I already had a cubicle waiting for me back in Europe. Yeay. And me working on a farm? Right.

I thought Queenstown must be the answer. But it was full of English teenagers/ wannabe snowboarders. And Latvians. And Brazilians. And everyone else. I hate people sometimes. And shitty customer service jobs and overpriced dodgy rooms.

Planning is stupid. I ended up picking grapes. Those were my hippy beginnings. Those were good times. This is where I worked for probably the best boss I will ever have. A chilled out dreaded rock climber who told me about a climbing campground just an hour away from the vineyard. I somehow managed to end up there half a year later despite almost leaving NZ like 100 times.

And so a chain of short-term jobs lined up and with it people who never intended to make this island their home. All of the sudden you feel a bit less lonely in the company of other lost souls. No place is better than the next one.

As I travelled through Asia, I got my Working Holiday visa for New Zealand. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 100 places for Latvians each year and I got one of them.

I didn’t really have a plan. It was time to leave Asia because I thought I was running out of money. I wasn’t really. I just still had that ‘you-need-tons-of-money-travel’ mindset. I arrived in Auckland and the next day I met this guy who was selling his car with a surfboard. Deamn. That was the moment of enlightenment where I should have gone home, got my driver’s licence and return to NZ.  But I was on the other side of the world! Fail.

Taking the bus was not cool. I wanted to learn how to surf. But New Zealand is not Bali packed full of people who make a living out of getting you from A to B. It’s remote. It’s the furthest place on the earth from everything. Who would wanna live on an island full of beautiful beaches, volcanoes and nice people anyways? I had the money to buy a car but I did not have a driver’s licence in a country perfect for your first van-life experience. Epic fail. Going to Gisborne rather than Raglan was a fail as well.

Then I met this super nice American chick who suggested I try hitch-hiking. I did. I stuck out my thumb. I just needed a 15 minute lift to the next town (I have a licence now but I am still kilometre dyslexic). Two seconds later a car full of three big kiwi guys pulls off. Seriously? It’s the first time I’m doing this. Wasn’t it supposed to be a nice old lady? Is this the moment where you say ‘thank you. But no thank you.’? But I suck at saying no. So I got into the car. I got away with it. These guys ended up sick worried for me as we arrived at this super dodgy hippy hostel. The irony.

And so I continued hitch-hiking. I went down to Wellington. Didn’t really see myself staying there either. One month on the North Island and I decided- OK South Island, show me what you got. Winter is coming. World famous Queenstown surrounded by beautiful mountains will be the place where I’ll settle for a while. By then it was clear, that it would be stupid to get an office job and live the same kind of life just on the other side of the world. And then, going to Queenstown turned out to be another epic fail.  

Two years ago myself and Andra went for that South East Asia trip. It seemed so adventurous at the time. We felt so bad-ass. Did any Latvian ever step their foot here?  Will someone hide drugs in my backpack and I’ll end up in a women’s prison in Thailand? Will I die from the Japanese encephalitis? It certainly seemed so once we flew into Jakarta.

What a relief it was a few hundred nasi gorengs later to reach the sweet shores of Bali. Java was intense with its volcano’s and the 141 million people packed in 130 thousand square kilometres. Russia’s population is just 2 million more than that. But Bali. That’s a whole different story. An island tailored for everyone. What could two young single girls from Latvia possible find to do here?

And so we went out. And we had fun. Bars full of hot surfer dudes and beautiful ozzy girls. And wait a minute.. If you take an Easyjet you ARE actually in Darwin in 2 hours? Australia always seemed like this unreachable land. And there it was, just one Ryanair flight away. A land I only dreamed to go to. In any case, I couldn’t go there. I had a plan. I was travelling for a few months and then I had a serious banking career to go back to. Until I met Jesus.

I hope Jesus is not reading this stupid blog post. And his name is too cool to change it. I had no idea at the time that his story would be the foundation of me realising that there is another way to live. Especially as a white European. You can choose to travel to Asia and study the wisdom of the East over sitting at Uni for 3 years. You can choose to live on a beautiful tropical island full of hot Australians and surf every over slaying away 60 hours a week in a cubicle.

But there and then I didn’t buy it. Although the living proof was right in front of me. A guy from humble backgrounds challenging the status quo to do what he loves the most.

I was lucky. I had two languages programmed in my head since day one. But how did I learn the other four? Well it definitely took some effort. And by effort I mean:

1) Ditch the language course

I couldn’t think of a better time waster than a language course. I took German for 5 years. Grew to hate not only the language but the entire country as a result. And then I learned nothing from this experience. A couple of years later I made too many German friends and ended up in a German language course. Plus I paid money for it. But here’s why it was not a total failure:

·         My motivation was sky high. I was a bloody ambitious Eastern European girl back then. That equals to a lot of willpower.

·         I mastered a similar language, which was Dutch. In this case, a language course was like a ‘Germanic language system upgrade’. Or downgrade. Depending which one is easier.

·         I was already in a country where I could practice the language. Germans are great at speaking their language with you, even if they know you can’t speak shit.

2) Come clean

Dutch landed me my first high-paid job although my brain was wired to German too much. It was very painful; I had to talk my twisted version of the language to angry private investors plus those Dutchies with their monies. I wanted to cry. Another couple of years later I am no more fluent in German or Dutch. Well I don’t know. I don’t use these languages. And I have no intention to live in those countries. So what was the point learning them? In future will there be any point of learning a new language besides English? I don’t know.

3) Make a fool out of yourself

Learning a language is for the confident people or the super ambitious people. That’s why I don’t learn them anymore. One day you’re on a top of the world after your first small talk in a French bakery. The next day you want to die because you confused the word teammate with playmate. There is no other way. Alcohol helps boosting your language confidence though.

4) Travel

Whilst some of my schoolmates spoke English with a wannabe-British accent, with time I realised I had absolutely no brains for grammar. So pretty low chances to learn one of the most screwed up languages of all times- French. But 10 months of attending a regular Belgium school and living with a Belgium family did the magic. I still randomly use le Francais quand je speak.

So I’ve been back in Europe for a while now. My fears have come true. I got a 9-5 job and I’m feeling the pressure to marry someone and make some babies. And although I’m turning 26 only next week, over the past 3 months my family has made sure I feel like a 30 year old something. Little do they know that I’ve been secretly reflecting on my 2 year globe-trotting in between my 4 bedroom walls back home in Riga. My travels are not over yet. Sorry dad.

Taking a break from Europe has given me an opportunity to come back as a stranger or a tourist or an alien? I’m observing the behaviour of my parents and their parents and our relationship with each other and suddenly I get that ‘aha’ moment – so this is what has made me- ME? Or maybe I really am getting old. Aaah. But I must say, it’s nice to come back and realise what a beautiful place I’m from. Don’t know any other city of such decent size with so much nature, especially that much water and greenness around. I love Riga.

In any case, I’m trying to convince my ambitious-self that it has been very healthy to do nothing for a couple of months. No travelling. No jobs. Just a few embarrassing attempts to get my driver’s licence and probably too much browsing on pinterest. I’ve been running like a headless chicken for way too long. Never embarking on a far more dangerous journey of getting to know myself better. Hypnotised by the common illusion that there are not enough days in a week and hours in a day. It’s all about setting priorities.

Travelling has been a great excuse to not look within and confront whatever mess I find there. I acknowledge that. Then I remember the values that I’ve established for myself and all the beautiful people I’ve met along the way. And I calm down and conclude- I’m getting old but I’ll be alright.

‘The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes.’ - Marcel Proust

‘ Anything that excites us, arouses our curiosity or yields a certain pleasure is providing data – in a slightly illegible form – about something important missing or in short supply in our lives. We should pause to acknowledge the direction we are wisely being pointed towards.’