Category: Pauses

The Best Decision of 2026 (Thus Far)

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Sapporo, Hokkaido, Japan
Summer · Jul 2026

The hubs bought me a new MacBook Neo in June, ahead of my five-day silent retreat in Chiangmai. In the midst of an intensive job search, we thought it would be prudent to travel with a proper laptop instead of an iPad. That decision ended up being the best decision of 2026 (thus far).

A month later, we were in Hokkaido for a milestone birthday trip when an email arrived notifying me of a job interview — along with a 1,000-word essay due in three days.

The hotel room where I slogged over the essay.

So I spent the next three nights in Sapporo slogging over the essay, while everyone else was presumably enjoying the holiday. And I was very thankful for my foresight — and the hubs’ agreement — to bring along the Macbook because I cannot imagine writing this essay on a smaller gadget.

We had an uneasy few days in Sapporo as a result of this assignment. How to answer the question intelligently and thoughtfully was almost always at the back of my mind, taking up more mental space than I would have liked. The hubs had to remind me to enjoy myself. I suppose I did eventually, having ended up adding almost ten pieces of apparel to my wardrobe.

The hubs was not spared either. He had to listen to me read and re-read every paragraph aloud, again and again, after every edit, all while trying to figure out how we were going to pack our very much expanded belongings — and the Royce chocolates. I suspect he knew almost as much about the essay by the time I submitted it as I did.

At that point, the business was still operating. I wasn’t officially looking at the great unemployed abyss yet. But I knew its end was coming end of August, and here I was, in Japan, suddenly writing my way into whatever might come next. On hindsight, could I have asked for a slight postponement to the submission date? Absolutely. I just didn’t feel like doing so.

Prior to the interview a week or so later, the hubs had reminded me not to stress too much about finding a job. He earns enough for the both of us and didn’t need my income, just the opportunity for me to get out of the house, he said. It reminded me rather inexplicably of Pursuit of Jade, where Changyu tells her injured husband that if he stays, she can simply slaughter pigs to feed him. I suppose this was the modern version: no pigs required, just a husband who was quite prepared to keep the household going while I figured out what came next.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to figure out what came next for very long.

The offer came.

And so, on our 22nd wedding anniversary, I find myself thinking about how often the hubs has given me the freedom to step into uncertainty — simply because he knew that being happier mattered.

Happy anniversary, hubs. ❤️

The Village People

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They say it takes a village to raise a child. Sometimes, that village gathers in the kitchen to bake chocolate cookies for Teachers’ Day.

I have not baked cookies in a long time, having moved on to other confections and, more recently, bread. But baking with my nine-year-old nephew calls for something foolproof and forgiving, and few things fit the bill better than a good ol’ drop cookie.

So we measured, mixed, scooped and baked — a little flour here, a little chocolate there, and quite a bit of tasting along the way. He took his responsibilities seriously, particularly the tasting part. He was also very taken with my KitchenAid, wanting to ramp up the speed to level 10 several times. Just how do you tell a young boy that sometimes more haste, less speed, especially where baking is concerned?

There is something quite different about baking with a child. Everything takes a little longer. Measurements have to be explained, instructions occasionally have to be repeated, and apparently no bowl of chocolate chips can be left unattended. And then there was the repeated question: “Can I eat one now? Or three?” He asked often enough that I began to wonder whether he thought the cookies were actually being made for him.

But there is also something satisfying about seeing the look of wonder on his face — that moment when following a recipe stops being a series of instructions and starts becoming something he has made. He wanted to do things properly, and was afraid of making mistakes. He was also surprisingly serious about mixing the batter thoroughly so the chocolate chips and chocolate chunks were well incorporated, and about getting the batter roughly the same size. Clearly he  understood the assignment, that in baking some things had to be done in a particular order. I was reminded that what seems obvious after years in a kitchen is not necessarily obvious to someone seeing it for the first time.

And perhaps that is part of the fun. Baking is wonderfully forgiving when you are nine. A misshapen cookie is still a cookie. A little too much chocolate is hardly a catastrophe. Even the ones that spread more than intended still disappeared rather quickly.

These were for his teachers, a small thank-you made by hand. There is something rather nice about that: taking the time to make something for the people who, in their own way, have been part of his village.

And yes, I know someone is going to ask for the recipe. It will appear here eventually. Just not… yet.

What Stays

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“The world doesn’t need another travel influencer.”

This was my reply to a close friend when we met over lunch one day and were discussing viable ways to generate a second income on YouTube.

The words came out before I’d really thought about them. Looking back, I realised they explained something I’d never been quite able to put into words. They also explained why I’d stopped writing for a while.

We never stopped travelling. If anything, we travelled more than before, and I came home with more stories than I knew what to do with. I stopped because I wasn’t interested in writing another travelogue, and I didn’t yet know how I wanted this site to evolve.

When I think about the journeys that have stayed with me, they’re rarely defined by the itineraries I painstakingly planned. Instead, I remember the moments that seemed insignificant at the time: waiting on a station platform before sunrise, wandering down a quiet street with nowhere to be, returning to a place years later and finding it both familiar and changed.

This is my way of celebrating those moments.

Some entries are travel journals. Some are photographs. Some begin with a passing thought that lingered long after I came home.

They’re still all about travel.

Just not always about where I went.