Sara Fondo smiling at sunset on a boat in French Polynesia

.. so who the fuck am I?

(besides someone who swears a lot)

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, where my current chapter is being written.

As I scribble this, I’m sailing the South Pacific Ocean aboard a 63 ft. sailboat, navigating French Polynesia. 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.

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