"You travel a lot yourself?" Tony asked. He was a new friend- an older gentleman from London who's an avid bird-watcher and traveler.
"I suppose I do. It's not so easy to stop."
"Well, you can't," he said with conviction. "Once you've learned to travel the way we do, you're changed as a person. Each place you go changes you, you know."
We stepped down a rocky path toward the sea on the island of Lopud.
"When you try to go back, it's as if you've been on some sort of a spaceship..."
For the past few days, I've been traveling with an old friend of mine, Bernice, who I met years ago while living in Sydney. She told me that in Singapore they've begun calling stray cats "community cats." It's a more accurate term because, in actuality, they're not exactly stray. As the name suggests, the community takes care of them. So, the cats belong to no one and everyone, simultaneously.
I've been thinking a lot about community cats as I walk past fellow adventurists donning their typical nondescript black backpacks. Independent travelers seem well-loved and content bopping around the Balkans, especially following the advent of Croatia's digital nomad visa.
I often forget I've become a bit of a "backpack" myself. Over the past year, I've traveled through Chicago, Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Paris, London, New York City, Montreal, Quebec City, Burlington, Herceg Novi, and of course Dubrovnik. I've trained with artists I admire, and I've picked up language skills (very often while keeping up a normal work schedule).
Tony is right; travel has changed me. I've developed a skillset in building relationships, learning quickly, and adapting to new environments that may have only been possible through a remote work situation. Moreover, I've come to approach unfamiliar settings with a sense of curiosity and real sort of exuberance, which made self-employment (and contract work) finally feel like a perfect fit.
As I lay here with sandy toes in my bed, I'm so grateful for the personal and professional growth that's occurred over the last year. I can't even begin to guess where I'll be staying or who I'll be working with in one year's time. Call me a "backpack," but I wouldn't have it any other way.
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