I had been playing with the idea for quite some time. I think ever since a friend of mine gave me this book "cycling home from Siberia" written by Rob Lilwall, the boyfriend of her officemate in London. Storyline in short (as I remember it): UK teacher sets off to travel part of the world by bicycle for a couple of months, and ends up doing so for nearly 3 years. Ever since reading that book, I felt like some day, I would like do something similar. It took me another 5 years before actually converting that vague feeling into concrete steps. But in the summer of 2015, I finally found my courage to hand in my sabbatical request. Nine months later, 16 March 2016, Departure Day was there. After a super-hectic last two weeks of running like a madman to get all preparatory actions done, and a last sleepless night in Belgium (mostly spent packing and doing admin), I was sitting at the breakfast table at my dad's, with a very akward feeling, wondering what on earth I was thinking when I decided to go travel the world by myself for a year. But there was a plane seat waiting for me, no turning back now. One of my dear friends was so kind to bring me to the airport, and after one last coffee in the airport entrance lobby (luckily for us, one week before the despicable Brussels terror attacks), I walked to the boarding gate with very, very cold feet.
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