Sometimes I like being somewhere nobody knows me.
That probably sounds strange coming from someone who spends most of his working life talking to people.
But hear me out.
There is something incredibly peaceful about arriving somewhere thousands of kilometres away and realising that nobody there knows anything about you.
They don’t know what you do.
They don’t know your position.
They don’t know what you’ve achieved.
They don’t know what you’re worried about.
And, perhaps best of all, they don’t expect anything from you.
For a little while, you get to be nobody.
And I’ve realised that I quite like being nobody sometimes.
Somewhere in New Zealand
I remember one particular moment in New Zealand.
I was standing alone, looking at a landscape that seemed to go on forever.
I don’t remember what I was thinking about.
Maybe that’s exactly why I remember it.
There were no meetings waiting for me.
No phone calls.
Nobody asking me for a decision.
Nobody needing an answer.
For those few minutes, I wasn’t Head of HR.
I wasn’t someone’s manager.
I wasn’t trying to solve anything.
I was just a guy standing in New Zealand looking at a ridiculously beautiful view.
And feeling very, very small.
Not insignificant.
Just small.
There is a difference.
Sometimes we spend so much of our lives inside our own problems that they start to feel enormous.
Then you stand in front of mountains, an ocean or a landscape that has existed long before you and will probably still be there long after you’re gone.
Suddenly that email doesn’t feel quite as urgent.
The Roles We Carry
At home, I’m rarely just Thana.
I’m the HR guy.
The manager.
The son.
The friend.
The person someone calls when they need something.
And I’m okay with those roles. They’re part of my life, and many of them I’m grateful to have.
But roles come with expectations.
At work, people need answers.
At home, people need your time.
Someone needs a decision.
Someone needs advice.
Someone needs you to fix something.
And somewhere between all of that, you become very good at carrying things.
Sometimes so good that you forget you’re carrying them.
That’s what travelling does for me.
I wouldn’t call it escaping.
Whatever is waiting for me at home will still be there when the flight lands.
The emails certainly aren’t going anywhere.
Travel just gives me permission to put everything down for a while.
Just Another Guy Having Coffee
There is another moment I remember.
Nothing spectacular happened.
No mountains. No famous landmark. Nothing particularly Instagram-worthy.
I was sitting alone having coffee early one morning.
The streets were still quiet and people were beginning their day.
Some were walking to work.
Others were passing by.
Nobody looked at me twice.
And I loved that.
The person making my coffee didn’t know my job title.
The people walking past didn’t know how much I earned.
Nobody knew what I’d achieved.
Nobody knew the mistakes I’d made either.
To everyone around me, I was completely unimportant.
Just another guy having coffee.
Strangely, that felt freeing.
I didn’t need to introduce myself.
I didn’t need to explain myself.
I didn’t need to be interesting.
I could sit there, drink my coffee and watch a city wake up.
That’s it.
And maybe we underestimate how nice “that’s it” can be.
I Become Quieter When I Travel
I’ve noticed something else about myself.
When I’m somewhere unfamiliar, I talk less.
I observe more.
Maybe because at home I’m constantly communicating.
Talking.
Listening.
Answering.
Solving.
Planning what comes next.
But when I’m away, especially somewhere nobody knows me, I slow down.
I notice people.
I notice buildings.
I notice small conversations happening around me even when I can’t understand the language.
I notice things I would probably walk straight past at home.
And I’m not thinking about what I need to say next.
I’m simply there.
Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love travelling.
It’s not always about discovering somewhere new.
Sometimes it’s about rediscovering what you’re like when nobody needs anything from you.
Being Nobody for a While
I once thought travel was mainly about seeing the world.
And of course, part of it is.
I still want to see beautiful places.
Eat good food.
Take far too many photographs.
Get lost occasionally.
And come home with stories.
But I’m starting to understand that there is another reason I keep wanting to go.
When nobody knows who I am, I can be nobody for a while.
Not in a sad way.
In a peaceful way.
Because underneath the job titles, responsibilities, achievements, mistakes and expectations, there is still just a person.
No introduction required.
No explanation needed.
Maybe we don’t always travel because we’re trying to escape our lives.
Sometimes we just need enough distance from them to remember who we are without all the labels.
And sometimes all it takes is a plane ticket, an unfamiliar street and a quiet cup of coffee somewhere nobody knows your name.
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