Arriving home after 7 months of solo traveling in Southeast Asia...

Unbelievable. Now that the journey is over, it feels as if time has flown, as if I arrived at the end in no time at all. Sitting at home with my family, it’s hard to process that just months ago I was on the other side of the world. I remember the same dreamlike uncertainty before leaving for Asia last year, was I dreaming or was this real? And now, after countless unforgettable moments, stories, people, and meals, I’m back home with the same surreal feeling. I keep reminding myself how much life can fit into a single year when things flow smoothly, and how quickly time fades. But that’s what we live for: to experience beauty and sadness, to be broken down and rise again. That has been the essence of my last few years. It’s easy to share wise thoughts when you’re on a high, but I’ve come to believe the deepest lows are just as necessary as the highest highs. Humanity is built this way, no one can remain in a perfect state forever. In my case, I’m not glad I hit rock bottom and had to fight for my life, but without that crisis I would most likely still be living my old life. The most crucial part, as I see it now, is listening to the whispers of your own gut. Our body is a unique structure: it warns us when something is wrong, yet too often we deny the signs because looking away feels easier. In the short term, maybe. But in the long run, the damage is greater.

This trip was years in the making, three and a half long, yet strangely short, years of dedication toward one goal. From spending a month in a hospital and losing 17 kg, to moving to Austria, traveling to Venezuela, walking over 1,000 km across Spain and Portugal, moving back to Austria, and finally setting out on seven months through seven countries. Looking back, every small moment and profound detail became step-by-step guidance: don’t overstep, don’t break yourself, don’t return to the old state. The job I set out to do is done, but new ones have been born. Before landing in Kuala Lumpur, I had no expectations. My only thought was: if I could just have a decent travel experience, I’d be satisfied. Visiting countries, meeting people from different cultures, sharing food, lying on beaches, wandering alone or in company, discovering myself and Asia, learning, making new friends, and above all, deepening my photography again. That alone would have been enough. But it went far beyond even the expectations I never had.

Malaysia: Reuniting with Celine from the Camino and meeting her close friends. The most diverse food in Southeast Asia, and my favorite dish, Assam laksa, in Penang. Taking the very first snaps again with my new camera after a long break.

Thailand: Sinusitis on an island crushed my diving plans, and maybe my chance at underwater photography, but it turned out to be a gift. Without it, I would never have spent a month volunteering at an elephant sanctuary, one of the most joyful chapters of my trip. Bangkok, where street photography and the OOF group revealed themselves to me.

Laos: The most beautiful sights I’ve seen in my life. Crossing the Mekong River on a two-day slow boat was the most unique travel experience I’ve ever had.

Cambodia: Oh, Cambodia… Angkor Wat took my breath away, but the true highlight was my first street photography workshop, with a great photographer who became an even better friend.

China: An unexpected three weeks filled with laughter, endless photography, and my first real insight into how to approach a photo project. Visiting the Stone Forest, wandering through ancient formations, was surreal. I hadn’t even planned to go to China, but I’m glad I did. I’ll never forget watching elderly people gather every night to dance, sing, exercise, and simply enjoy life together.

Vietnam: A mix of cold, rain, and sun. The home of bún chả, bánh xèo, phở. My first meeting with my favorite OOF member, though not the last. I also captured one of my favorite photos of the whole trip here.

Indonesia: The kindest people I’ve ever met. Sometimes almost too polite and curious, yet always genuine, treating me as though I was an old friend who had just dropped by on a cozy afternoon. Despite poverty, many live with an easygoing joy that makes me question why so many in the West live so tense and unhappy.

Each milestone, with all its small details, felt like guidance, teaching me to take one step after another without rushing, without forcing, without breaking. And somehow, step by step, I’ve come this far. I can’t describe how grateful I am. We can evolve so much in such a short time, the key is learning to enjoy the process, being present, and remembering to celebrate even the small victories. Too often we forget that, focusing only on what went wrong. Now it’s time for a short pause. First, I want to enjoy the company of my relatives and friends. But big plans are already on the horizon, and when the time is right, I’ll share them with you. The journey isn’t over, in many ways, it’s just begun. My goal is still ahead of me, floating clearly in front of my eyes.