Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate that the things we enjoy most in life aren’t always the things we once thought we needed.
I’ve known a life of comfort — first-class flights, beautiful hotels, memorable meals. And I enjoyed it. Why wouldn’t I? But as time went by, I found myself drawn to other things: simpler experiences, unexpected encounters, the freedom to explore without needing everything to be planned or polished.
Perhaps it’s not so much about wanting less as about discovering what is enough. And for me, more and more, that means having the freedom to travel, to be curious, and to feel at home in the unfamiliar.
Recently, in the Atlas Mountains, I had a conversation with Mehjid, our guide, and his donkey…
In his broken French, Mehjid told me about his own idea of luxury: his nomadic life. He has travelled beyond his village, to nearby towns and places just outside the familiar boundaries of his everyday world. Nothing extravagant, perhaps, by conventional standards. But these little journeys bring him joy. They give him something to look forward to, something that helps him carry the ordinary days with a little more lightness.
I understood him more than I could have explained.
Our lives may look very different — economically, socially, culturally — but, sitting there in the Atlas Mountains, I felt how much we shared. That same curiosity about what lies beyond the familiar. What makes us feel alive is often much simpler than we imagined. The desire to discover, to experience something new, to feel the world opening up around us. Perhaps the shape of our journeys matters less than what draws us towards them.
And perhaps this, too, is a kind of wealth.
These days, when I plan my year, I begin with the essentials: what I need to cover my basic expenses. Then I look at where I would love to go, which journeys truly matter to me, and what they might cost. The rest, somehow, has to be enough.
I’ve discovered that I can live on very little when I need to. Instant noodles and porridge are perfectly acceptable companions to a life of adventure. 😊 I’m completely happy to fly economy if it means travelling farther, more often. I no longer need every part of the journey to be comfortable. Nowadays, it’s the destination — even the unexpected detour — that matters most.
Mehjid, in his own way, has found a little resourcefulness of his own. He brings back small souvenirs from his travels and sells them to tourists looking for what they believe to be authentic Amazigh art (I choose the name Amazigh, Imazighen for the plural rather than Berber for its negative connotation).
Different lives, different ways of making things work, but perhaps a shared understanding that a little ingenuity can open doors.
When people ask me why I travel, I sometimes struggle to give a simple answer. Ever since I left Madagascar, I’ve been searching for a place that feels like home. I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for, or whether it’s a place at all. Something keeps calling me out into the world, and I’ve learned to listen. I follow my curiosity, my intuition, and the occasional inexplicable pull towards somewhere I know very little about.
Perhaps I’m not travelling to find a place where I belong, but to discover what belonging means to me?
And so, the real gift of travel are not the places I visit, the landscapes I admire, or even the experiences I collect. It is the unexpected moments of connection, of recognition — when someone whose life seems so far removed from mine suddenly feels familiar.
Mehjid, riding his donkey through the Atlas Mountains. And me, behind the wheel of my ageing 4×4, setting off towards new horizons.
Two different lives. Two very different journeys.
And yet, not so different after all.