May 21, 2024

I’m still happily lounging in my tent when I hear voices. Two girls are holding a piece of paper and place it on a post in front of my tent, using some kind of stapler without staples. I had noticed the post yesterday but had no idea what it was. Turns out, it’s a device that punches a specific pattern of holes in paper. Hilarious—I’m right on the path of a school treasure hunt, and for the rest of the morning I get plenty of visitors. Around thirty kids pass by in small groups, every ten to twenty minutes or so. Of course, I get my own little hole-punched stamp too. A permanent souvenir for my travel journal.

Most of the students are too shy to say anything, and every single one of them trips over my guyline until I finally pull the stake out of the ground—getting yanked like that over and over isn’t much fun. Later, one of the teachers tells me they’re all fifteen years old and spending the day doing various outdoor activities. He clears away all the treasure hunt materials, and we have a nice chat. I’ve definitely enjoyed all the surprised faces, and by noon I finally have everything packed up and get going again. But here’s the victory: I can let this go now—that slow start. It is what it is.

The day takes a different shape anyway. I feel a strong urge to write, and I give in to it. I find a lovely picnic table in the not-too-hot sun and stay there the whole day. I write, and later I cook myself another tasty meal. I simply follow what I seem to need today, and I enjoy it.

Eventually, I set off late to look for a place to sleep—and of course, it’s tricky. That’s always how it goes; should I have stopped earlier? But it works out in the end. I find a spot in a small patch of forest. Not stunning or anything, but I sleep well. And I feel freer than ever. No more overthinking—and that’s worth a lot. Living in the now, responding to whatever comes—that way of being seems to have really started now. What freedom!