Among Mountains and Small Conversations – A Journey to Feel Alive Again
Some lessons come so unexpectedly.
In a strange place, in the middle of exhaustion, with legs worn out from climbing mountains and a backpack that felt heavier than life itself.
There I was, sitting next to someone I had just met, sharing stories about life.
And at some point, I realized:
"Turns out… I’ve never really lived…"
Hey, it’s Van. I’m back. How have you been?
I just returned from a long hiking and camping trip.
I feel like… I’ve come back to life again.
I’m happy to be living with the things I believe bring true value to my life.
The journey was tough at times, exhausting at many points, filled with countless inconveniences.
But it was exactly there… where I learned how to slow down, to be grateful, to listen to the silence, and to feel how small I am in front of the endless, vast mountains.
At first, I struggled so much to connect with people.
Our group had 12 people, including me.
Not too big, but not small enough for me to feel comfortable.
Everyone came from different parts of the world:
A couple from Scotland
Three sisters from England
Another friend also from England
One from France
Three from Germany
And one from Australia
And me… from a faraway place, a small country called Vietnam.
We all spoke English, but to me… it felt like they were speaking a brand-new language.
Every time someone talked to me, I had to say "huh?" at least three times before I could catch what they were saying.
People were chatting, laughing, telling stories, while I… just sat there with a blank face, pretending I understood… but honestly, I had no clue what the conversation was about.
Their choice of words was different too.
Regional slang that only people from their area would use. Not to mention the variety of accents… each more unique than the last.
The first night was fine. It was just me and my roommate – a very lovely sister from Germany.
The second night… homesickness started to creep in.
And I kept asking myself:
"How on earth am I supposed to fit in here?"
The third night… I hid.
Silently crawled into my tent, pulled out a book, and started reflecting on life…
While everyone else gathered around the campfire.
At some point… I wondered: "Was this even the right decision?"
It took me four days… just to open up a little.
I switched on my "self-judgment mode" more times than I could count.
Telling myself:
"I’m not good enough."
"I don’t deserve to be here."
"I’m so weird for being this quiet."
"Everyone must think I’m so awkward…"
And the more I thought like that…the more I withdrew.
I barely spoke to anyone… except for basic greetings.
Once again… I hated myself.
The lessons about comparison hit me right in the face.
They shared the same culture.
They had similar ways of interacting.
They had so many experiences to share.
And me…I didn’t.
And so it went…
Seven days later… I finally opened up a little bit more to my tentmate (because we slept in a tent).
She was open, accepting… though sometimes a bit blunt.
Some comments left me… speechless for a few seconds.
Maybe… that’s just how their culture works.
I live in the U.S., where people tend to… sugarcoat things, say what others want to hear, avoid conflict even if it means saying things they don’t truly mean.
But in Europe… it’s different.
They’re open, honest, straightforward, independent, not wanting to owe anyone anything.
That’s just… my personal observation.
The rest of the week…
I hiked more.
Got lost in that endless space.
Talked a bit more…
But not the bubbly, chatty version of me like when I’m with customers or people I already feel safe around.
I was still… me.
But a slightly more open version.
A few days before the trip ended…
My roommate and I went on a hike… just the two of us.
And that was when I really opened up.
We talked about love. About pain. About healing journeys.
There were moments…
We just looked at each other… and smiled.
The kind of smile that says… "I get it… you don’t have to explain."
I felt deeply grateful…
For those small, simple moments.
I felt… more confident.
Braver… to show my weaknesses.
I learned how to… "Be myself… without losing myself."
My heart… felt lighter.
Before we said goodbye…
We gave each other a tight hug.
A tight hug is kind of unplanned… but filled with sincerity.
I’ve never been the kind of person who’s comfortable with hugging.
Always awkward.
Always avoiding.
But after this trip…
After all the reflections I’ve had…
I realized…
"Why not just enjoy it?
Do what I like.
Give hugs.
Say words of love… while I still can."
By the way…
This isn’t a blog post about the trip itinerary.
If needed… I can always write another one.
And maybe… this trip… wasn’t just a journey through the Rockies.
It felt more like a small turning point… in a much bigger journey.
A journey of slowing down.
A journey of understanding myself.
A journey of finally admitting:
I don’t have to run on anyone else’s timeline.
I don’t want to force myself anymore.
Don’t want to fake being okay.
Don’t want to feel like I have to be fast, be good, or finish life by someone else’s deadline.
I just want to…
Take a few classes each semester.
Do things I enjoy.
Travel more.
Live at a pace… my heart feels right.
Even if it t takes me ten more years to finish my degree.
Even if…
By the time I graduate… life might have already changed.
But… that’s okay.
I want to spend more time…
Experiencing.
Going through things.
And reflecting on… everything I’ve gone through.
To… understand myself better.
Because…
The journey of understanding myself…
Is a long… endless one.
