If I had a neat answer to that, I wouldn’t have roamed as wildly as I have. But if you’re wondering why I’m out here gallivanting, my answer? To feel light.
I can’t recall a time growing up when I didn’t want to leave. Things weren’t exactly nice at home, so I imagined myself moving abroad, and starting a new life. A happy life. I got my first job at 14, and I quickly morphed into a workaholic which would become an identity of mine for many years to come.
Looking back, I know that everything I did – working, studying and partying like a manic – was nothing but an escape. But the true vanishing act? It kicked off at nineteen. Flush with savings and a high school diploma, I jetted to Spain on a one-way ticket, armed with nothing but a desire to parlay español. Spoiler: I didn’t quite master the language because I ended up living in a shed on a mountainside with German nudists. But I learned that I could do a lot of cool stuff on my own.
Six months later, I strutted back home and got accepted into journalism school. But before diving into that, I had this odd urge to experience the Cyclades in Greece. So, solo mission activated once again. I still have this very vivid memory: I’m perched on a church roof on the island of Íos at 7 AM, after a 14-hour party marathon, watching the sun break through the horizon. In this moment a feeling inside of me hatched. I didn’t know it at the time, but this would become a feeling that I keep on chasing.
I felt light.
Fast forward to January 2019, 24 years old and clutching a journalism degree. “Fuck it,” I said and went to Mexico on a one-way ticket. I still failed at conjuring a plan, but soon learned that the best plan is no plan. That journey stretched 17 months, from Mexico to Brazil, pitstops in Canada and the USA, and a final bow in Australia. I climbed mountains, sled down an active volcano with 68 km/h, sailed with a smuggling boat, went road-tripping with strangers, hitchhiked, couchsurfed, volunteered, fell in love and felt gloriously alive. And the best part of it? I spent less than 11.000 USD (75.000 DKK) travelling non-stop for all those months.
This bitch knew how to stretch a dollar farther than a marathon runner.
Involuntarily, I returned to Denmark in the summer of 2020 due to Covid, and I found myself lying on my floor at 3 AM crying with the same force as Iguazú falls. My journey had changed me so much that I felt like a stranger in my own city. I didn’t want to squueze myself into the same old mold. I wanted to keep on changing, healing, growing, exploring. I wanted to keep on travelling.
And so, I did.
In 2022 I ventured to Faroe Islands and Greenland to make radio, I bikepacked in Scandinavia, volunteered on a pirate ship in Italy, went hiking and healing in the mountains of Poland, and ultimately landed in French Polynesia come December.
As I scribble this, I’m plotting my next adventure. Simultaneously, I’ve birthed this blog, aiming to regale you with tales that’ll make you cringe, cry, and dream of the untamed adventures awaiting you out there.
Got questions or just curious about something? Reach out to me by hitting that little email symbol below.
