The Joy of Unexpected Adventures

If you’ve been following my Substack for a while, you know that I’m spending the summer travelling North America. My original intention was to travel to Vancouver for a wedding, which then extended into a holiday, and then a road trip, which has now morphed into a somewhat disordered tour of North American cities and states I’ve always wanted to visit: Vancouver, Alberta, Montreal, New Orleans, and now New York. The reason I’ve been able to travel like this is because I can take my work with me. With my second novel just published, and a third book in the works, I’ve been setting up in every cafe I can find and writing as I go.

I hadn’t planned to travel solo for such an extended period, but in fact it has been one of the best things I’ve done in a really long time. I hadn’t planned to stay in hostels or to explore cities, walk into restaurants and bars on my own, but I’d forgotten what a good feeling it is — no matter how nervous you are to begin with — to strike up conversation with a stranger and to find that instead of the terrifying and hostile person you might have imagined them to be, they are interesting and kind and full of knowledge and curiosity, with a whole life’s worth of experience behind them.

I’ve never lived in any country other than the UK, and I am always so impressed with anybody who has the courage required to turn up in a strange land, particularly if the language is different, and to navigate a whole new set of systems and cultures. It’s so easy, when you’re in your routine and you have your comforts, to forget how difficult it is to establish yourself somewhere entirely new. I have plenty of friends who’ve moved away, and plenty of friends back in London and in the West Country who arrived in the UK one, two, five or more years ago and have established incredible lives for themselves with no base, other than maybe one or two phone numbers and maybe the language, maybe not. The feat of not just survival but of actually setting up a whole life and community is wildly impressive.

What I’ve been reminded of, on this adventure I’ve been having, is how any kind of travel, from the shortest of trips to the whole upheaval of a life, forces you to simplify. It’s a huge achievement to buy groceries, order a coffee, or to remember the way back to your apartment, let alone navigate cultural difference and begin to make friends. This trip — both the planned and unplanned adventures — has forced me to improvise a lot, and it’s been so good for me to be out of my comfort zone, and to remember what I’m actually capable of, and I’ll be honest, I’m feeling really good about it.

I write a lot on this Substack about neuroplasticity, and with good reason, learning about how the brain can adapt and change has been one of the biggest revelations for my mental health over the years. It’s one I feel insistent on sharing in these little bits of writing, especially when — like now — I’m feeling especially neuroplastic. New experiences, whether they are transatlantic or something much less dramatic: taking up a new hobby, or taking part in a new sport, moving in a new way, are so good for the brain, for self-belief, for knowing that even if life puts you in unexpected positions, then you have the capacity not just to adapt but also to thrive. This is one of the biggest lessons I’m learning over and again, and I hope to keep on learning on it.