Nostalgia is a fickle mistress. On one hand, it provides writers a useful tool for emotional connection, something to hook an audience with. On the other hand, when allowed to rule our minds and consume cherished memories from our past, it will distort these memories and sour our view of the present until we can only see what we lost, rather than what is left to be explored.

Birth of a traveler

I’ve always had a very special connection to Thailand. As a 17-year-old teen, I first visited on a year-long cultural exchange program, staying with Thai host parents and living the life of a Thai high school student. This early, fully immersive exposure to intercultural living shaped me in ways I couldn’t begin to understand in those days. I was exposed to a culture, an environment, and a way of living that was completely unknown to me, making every day feel like an exploration, an exciting adventure into an unknown world. And when I eventually got used to the sights, sounds, and smells, I found that I was more resilient to change and facing the unknown than I thought possible.

As a result, I subconsciously spent the next fifteen years of my life moving away from what most would call a desirable, normal way of life. It was inevitable that I would end up spending my life chasing that excitement and the exhilarating sense of exploration I felt during my stint as an exchange student.

But more than a decade passed while I was losing my way in my native culture, trying to ignore my newfound sense of adventure while moving down paths I thought I was supposed to take. But after stumbling through yet another year of failing to obtain a college degree and struggling to hold down long-term relationships, I finally faced my true ambitions and left my life in the Netherlands behind to chase my dreams and become a professional traveler.

On a scale of predictable comfort versus chaotic freedom, I was ready to tip the balance in favor of chaos while being driven by nostalgia for a time when exploring the world and my own limits felt so meaningful and yet completely safe. In short, I wanted to forget a troubled ten years and be the wide-eyed teenager who got himself immersed in an alien culture again.

Icarus falling

Nostalgia might have fueled my drive to leave my life behind, but it did set me on a path of true self-discovery—even if it was through a strange blend of excitement and hardship. I spent a year backpacking the world, setting up a niche travel blog while spending part of my time on volunteering projects to help cut costs while staying in one place for a while. I learned to trust in myself, to feel confident in my skills and my ability to survive this uncertain new way of living.

Slowly but surely, my nostalgic chase of the past turned me into a self-sufficient world traveler, making my way through life on my own terms.

And in the summer of 2019, my travels brought me back to the place my ambitions first took root in my subconscious. I returned to Thailand, visited the places I had lived, and reconnected with people who would help me bond with my past, reconcile with my life choices up to that point, and help me see how far I’ve actually come by daring to dream. It was a profound moment, the closing of a circle that was left open far too long. But after such a beautiful year of discovery and self-acceptance, what was next?

After one pandemic and several years of struggling to stay on the road and ahead of bankruptcy, I found myself in a very different position. I was in a bad place, my initial sense of wonder at the world now replaced with cynicism and pessimism at the way the world really worked. I was angry at forces I deemed in control and scared of how easily the freedoms I worked so hard to attain could be taken away at a globalist, profit-chasing whim. I was disillusioned with the way the online world now dictates offline experiences, with people chasing the same Instagram shot rather than actually engaging with destinations on their intrinsic merit.

Though in spite of this negative mindset, I was still traveling. Despite the odds, I was still hanging on, putting my ambitions as a travel writer on ice while I put more effort into building a freelance career. I became what is more commonly referred to as a digital nomad, saving up money while living in relative luxury in Southeast Asia. But no matter how many coconuts I enjoyed on white sandy beaches, something was missing.

Clarity

The excitement of seeing new places was fading, and not even visits to Thailand filled me with the sense of wondrous joy it once did. The easy life of a digital nomad made me feel disconnected from the places I was visiting. I was aimlessly moving from country to country, chasing deadlines and connections in an international social bubble that was in turn largely disconnected from local cultures. At one point, I had had enough.

This wasn’t why I started traveling, and this wasn’t the person I wanted to be. It was time to stop aimlessly drifting while clinging to the past, blinded by nostalgia and melancholy. I came to a realization:

I was so set on reliving my old sense of wonder that I forgot to adapt and move with the times. The adaptability I so proudly learned during my earlier travels resurfaced long enough to make me see that the old world I lived in as a teenager was simply gone. Chasing old memories would not serve me in creating meaningful new ones.

I needed purpose, a clear plan to have a reason to visit interesting places around the world again. My well-paying deadlines should be made to serve my underlying ambitions, ambitions that should be clearly defined and capable of adapting to changing circumstances. And so, over the course of a few months, I came up with a plan to reignite my travel writing career. In years past, my travel blogging plans did not adapt well enough to the modern state of the online world.

If an old idea doesn’t work, we shouldn’t just give up on the motivations that created that idea in the first place. I sat down with myself to reiterate that old travel writing dream and find out what skills and resources I had gathered since I set off from my old life. I came up with several different ways to make money by promoting interesting destinations, by highlighting what makes a place special without caving in to the ever-hungry demands of mass social media consumerism.

I would find a way to help others step away from their phones long enough to see what I once saw in the world. A world without instant connection, when the unknown beyond the horizon was still a mystery to be explored, rather than a bucket list to be crossed off for social media points. And now I was finally in a position to double down on these efforts by using my more sustainable sources of income to fuel the adventures that mattered, to once again inspire myself by aiming to inspire others.

To avoid being swallowed up by nostalgia, we first have to accept that the world we grew up in no longer exists. Once we accept that, we can look at what’s directly in front of us and what we can use to start building a future worth looking back on with pride, rather than melancholy.