I’ve always travelled for discoveries, not necessarily to escape anything.

Although escaping the familiar version of common sense can be surprisingly entertaining.

Take the midnight sun, for example. When the sun refuses to set, even bedtime starts to feel like a cultural opinion.

Or a nudist beach, where I was surprised to see so many senior women.

Apparently, the most revealing thing wasn’t the lack of clothing. It was how many assumptions I’d brought with me.

And then there’s Singapore, where tropical greenery seems to wrap itself around skyscrapers, as though the jungle had decided to pursue a career in architecture.

Three completely different experiences. One rather wonderful reminder.

Normal is not a universal language.

I don’t travel to decide which country has the better answers. I’m much more interested in discovering how many different answers can exist.

And returning to Japan doesn’t suddenly make everything feel restrictive. Taxi apps have improved, cashless payments have become easier, and life keeps evolving.

Although I wouldn’t complain if cable television offered a few more channels from around the world.

Some curiosities apparently don’t end when the suitcase is unpacked.

Perhaps that’s what being a creative nomad means to me.

Not constantly moving, but refusing to let the world become smaller than it actually is.

Because the most interesting thing about discovering another way of living isn’t necessarily wanting to live that way.

It’s realising you have more than one way to think.