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The short version
One small trip became a way of life.
Leaving India for Europe was the first time I had ever lived abroad. At first, independence felt less like freedom and more like burnt dinners, confusing groceries, and learning how loudly homesickness can sit in a quiet room.
Then came Aosta: one weekend in the mountains that made the map feel personal. Travel stopped being an occasional escape and became something to work toward, save for, and dream about between ordinary days.
A year later, I stepped onto the first train of a 40-day solo Interrail. Somewhere between missed connections, new friendships, and waking up in cities I had never seen before, being alone stopped feeling like something to fear.
Read the whole, honest version
