A Few Days Away From Everything

The Trip I Never Took a Picture Of

There are some trips you return from with hundreds of photographs. And then there are some trips where you return with nothing saved in your gallery, yet somehow you carry the entire journey inside you.

This was one of those trips.

And why would I need pictures?

I am a writer.

I can make you feel the same view through my words the mountains, the sea, the silence, the laughter, the cold breeze and all those little moments that never made it to a camera.

If you are reading this perhaps you don't need to see the picture. Perhaps I can make you feel the moment instead.

I went to the mountains with two of my childhood friends. The kind of friends with whom you don't need an introduction anymore. Still, i did.. These were the friends I hadn't met in years. Eleven years to be exact.

Life had happened in between. We had all grown up, gotten married, had children, become busy with our own lives, responsibilities and routines. Somewhere along the way the people we once saw so often became people we could only remember through old memories.

And when this trip was planned I remember thinking, What will it be like to meet them after eleven years? Will it feel awkward? Will we even have anything to talk about?

But when I finally saw them none of it felt strange. There was no awkwardness. No need to explain the years we had missed.

It was almost as if those eleven years had simply disappeared for a while and we were back to being those same friends again.

Maybe that's what makes some friendships special. Time can create distance, life can change everything around you but when the bond is real, meeting again doesn't feel like starting over.

It feels like coming back to something that was always yours.

I didn't take a single picture. I didn't have long conversations with anyone online. I barely touched my phone.

For once, I wasn't trying to capture the moment. I was simply living it.

The mountains had their own kind of silence. The sea had its own language. And somewhere between the two, I realised how long it had been since I had actually sat with myself without feeling the need to escape.

Maybe that's what a trip is sometimes supposed to be. Not sightseeing, Not posting, Not proving that you were there.

Just being there.

Because if you're reading this, I don't want you to see the mountains through a photograph. I want you to feel them through my words.

Imagine the cold air touching your face.

Imagine standing somewhere high enough to see the mountains stretching into the distance while the sea quietly exists beside them.

Imagine waking up, opening your curtains and finding an entire landscape waiting outside your window.

That was my view.

And honestly, what more could I have asked for?

There was a little adventure too.

While climbing the mountains, I slipped.

After that, I became much less adventurous and decided that perhaps exploring the world from my room wasn't such a bad idea after all.

So I didn't go everywhere.

I didn't see everything.

But it was okay.

Because sometimes the place you are staying becomes enough.

From my room's window, I could see the sea and the mountains. I had silence, I had time. And, for once I had myself.

Maybe that's why I didn't feel like I was missing anything.

Old Friends New Conversations.. Being with my two childhood friends felt strangely familiar.

We didn't have to try to recreate the past. We didn't have to pretend that nothing had changed. Because everything had changed.

And yet, somehow the comfort remained.

There is something beautiful about childhood friends. They know versions of you that no longer exist. They remember the person you were before you learned how to hide things before life taught you to overthink every emotion.

With them, you don't have to explain every silence. Sometimes, you can simply sit there. And that is enough.

But the trip also brought something unexpected new finds. Some people are simply crazy in the most beautiful way.

They enter your life without an announcement, without asking for permission and without needing you to make a special place for them.

They just come in...

and somehow they find their place.

These are the people who make you laugh when you weren't planning to.

The ones you meet for the first time but somehow feel like you've known them for years.

The ones who don't need a long history with you to create a beautiful memory.

We started with our little group and somehow ended up blending into a much bigger one.

Different people, Different personalities, Different stories.

But somehow, it worked.

Maybe that's another beautiful thing about travelling.

You leave home knowing a few people and return having discovered a few more.

Some become memories..Some become friends.

And some quietly become a part of your life without you even noticing when it happened.

The Room With the View After the little accident on the mountain, I spent more time in my room.

At first, I thought I was missing out. Everyone else was exploring, Everyone else was going places And I was sitting inside.

But then I looked out of my window. The sea was right there, The mountains were right there, The world wasn't asking me to chase it.

It was simply sitting outside my window. So I stopped feeling guilty about staying in.

I spent time with myself. No phone, No unnecessary conversations, No photographs.

No constant need to document what I was feeling.

Just me, my thoughts, the sea, the mountains and a little too much silence. And somewhere in that silence, something unexpected happened.

The questions that had been troubling me for so long began to feel less complicated.

I didn't suddenly find answers to everything. But I found enough. Enough to understand what I wanted. Enough to understand what I didn't. Enough to realise that perhaps I had been looking for answers everywhere except within myself.

Sometimes, we travel thousands of kilometres hoping that a new place will change us.

But perhaps the real journey happens when the world finally becomes quiet enough for us to hear ourselves. I went to the mountains with two childhood friends.

I met some beautiful, slightly crazy new people.

I slipped while climbing a mountain.

I spent more time in my room than I had planned.

I took no photographs.

I barely used my phone.

And yet, somehow this became one of those trips I know I will remember for a very long time.

Not because I have pictures to prove it happened.

But because I lived it.

And maybe that's the kind of memory that lasts the longest.

The ones that never make it to your gallery.

The ones that stay somewhere much deeper.

And if you've read this far, I hope you don't feel like you missed the photographs.

I hope, even for a moment, you could feel the cold mountain air, hear the quiet sea, see the view from my window, hear the laughter of old friends and meet those strange, wonderful people who somehow found their way into our little group.

Because maybe that's what being a writer really means.

I don't always need a photograph to show you where I've been.

Sometimes, I only need the right words to take you there.