On Adventure
WHAT ARE WE RUNNING AWAY FROM?
I can’t sleep. I keep turning over in bed, but I remain awake. I check my watch and see it’s 6:00 a.m. So, I get up and go for a sunrise walk. I take an unusual route and just walk. I see the sun slowly rising as I explore the new surroundings, I stop every now and then to capture the buildings and people walking around. When my thoughts get heavy, this is what I do: I walk, letting myself be distracted by what’s around me while my mind sorts itself out.
I wander, searching for the place—a spot where I can sit, have coffee, and journal. But nothing calls to me, so I keep moving, exploring these new streets, watching people, cars, and motorcycles drift past as the sun climbs higher. Eventually, I reach an intersection and no longer feel like walking. I look around and notice a vegan café across the street.
I arrive and see the place is full inside; the waiter informs me there’s only seating outside. That’s fine with me; I enjoy people-watching, and I know the sun will find me out there soon. There are three tables on the patio, and I choose the one in the middle.I pull out my journal and begin unloading my thoughts.
A woman sits at the table to my left; I smile at her and return to my writing. Thoughts drift in and out like fish swimming by, and I try to catch them one by one. But they’re fragmented, not connecting. The waiter comes, and I feel like having an Americano today. He leaves, and I close my tablet—the journaling isn’t helping.
I feel limited. I observe the world move in front of me—Everyone is going somewhere, while I'm here in the middle of nowhere. I simply observe the street in front of me and cars passing by like the thoughts in my mind, but nothing seems to land. My coffee arrives, and so does hers.
It's easier to deny things sometimes, but they somehow catch up with you eventually.
I pull out my camera to take a few photos and notice the battery is at 0%—just a few shots left. This limitation makes me mindful of every shot. It pulls me back into the moment. There is something in me telling me to talk to the woman next to me, but I sit with this feeling before acting on it.
The woman next to me asks for the bill, and I feel like I must take my shot now. So I do. I tell her my name is Alex, and that I'm a photographer visiting Barcelona. I ask if she’d be comfortable with me taking her photo. She smiles and agrees, telling me her father is a nature photographer. I mention my camera battery is nearly dead, so I’ll only get a few shots.
Before I start, I talk with her a bit, hoping to ease into the moment and make her feel at ease too. She shares that she’s here on holiday, needing time for herself. When I ask her what’s different about being here and there, she explains that back home, she’s always busy, bound by schedules and responsibilities, with no time left for herself. Here in Barcelona, there’s no plan—she just goes with the flow.
I relate to this, and I ask her, “Is that why we run away from home? To escape the monotony, the familiar?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes! Here, I can just be, without worrying about what’s next.”
I thank her for her time, taking a few portraits before wishing her a good day. As she leaves, I notice her coffee cup and water glass left behind. There’s something about them, a lingering essence that feels like a piece of her stayed.
Maybe we’re drawn to escape because we haven’t learned to create adventure in our daily lives. So, we seek it elsewhere, craving that feeling of living in the moment, of welcoming the unknown.
And I start to wonder. What am I running away from? Why am I here, at this table? I think I know the answer, but I push it aside. It's easier to deny things sometimes, but they somehow catch up with you eventually.