Thoughts From High Altitude

9.30am PT / 12:30pm ET.

I’m 10,000m over the Pacific, somewhere between Samoa and the Cook Islands, for the Survivor fans out there.

We are just about to cross the international date line and teleport a day into the future – pretty wild when you think about it.

The sun is chasing us, and we won’t be able to hold on to the darkness for much longer.

I just woke up from what might be the best sleep I’ve had in the last week—a lovely dinner, a few glasses of champagne, a tiny nibble from the magic pills a doctor friend gave me, and being tucked in by the stewardess. Sweet dreams, little prince.

I can get used to this.

And yet, I wonder, does this still count as a proper adventure?

When I hear about travel, adventure, and journeying into the unknown, the first thing I think about is the infamous stolen Rembrandt, “Storm in the Sea of Galilee.”

It’s by far my favourite painting, and I genuinely feel it speaks to me.

The religious context aside, I associate it with change, uncertainty, turbulence, courage, challenges, venturing into the unknown, new beginnings, navigating your emotions, and so much more.

These are the main themes of our lives, and this painting captures them perfectly.

One of the shipmates is staring directly at you. He is not afraid. In fact, it seems like he is questioning your courage and resolve. Do you have what it takes?!

The irony now becomes apparent when you consider that painting and me sitting in business class, drinking a double espresso, and engaging in the finest of mental masturbation.

Those are the privileges of the modern day, I guess.

And maybe that is the point. A few hundred years ago, getting to Australia (or America) meant boarding a ship with a significant chance of not reaching its final destination. People still willingly did it in the hope of better opportunities and a fresh start, even if it meant risking their lives.

Nowadays, the risk is essentially zero, the cost continues to go down, and people are more afraid than ever to let go of the comfort of their hometown.

Take a chance and go explore. Worst case, you can always come back.

And while we are no longer risking our lives to discover new lands, the storm in the sea has become a metaphor for our lives and minds. We’ve conquered almost everything there is to conquer on this planet, but our minds remain a mystery.

The most capable of monkeys—evolving from sticks and stones to wooden ships, flying metal capsules (with wifi), and lately, rockets aimed at the cosmos—and yet, when it comes to the mind, we are still monkeys.

For me, the main point of travel is to stop the monkeys in my head, break established routines and patterns of thinking, and separate me from the usual suspects around me.

It’s about rewiring my brain through different stimuli.

One of the co-founders of the startup I left earlier this year, a quirky British guy, used to book a different hotel in a different part of New York every time he visited the office.

“George”, he would tell me, “I walk to the office every day, and I need to see different buildings and people on my way there. It keeps me creative and doesn’t allow my mind to form a routine and get stale.”

I still don’t necessarily agree with that exercise, given all the chaos and firefighting we had to endure once at the office, but the principle is invaluable.

The last week has been a blur…

By the time this flight is over, I will have spent about 20% of those hours up in the air:

Sofia – London; London – NYC; NYC – LA; LA – Sydney

The time on the ground was spent running around for last-minute purchases, doing laundry and packing, having long conversations (in-person, phone, email) with some of my closest people, boozing and schmoozing around Manhattan, and watching Dune Part 2 (that movie was too long!!).

Between flights and airports in London, I also managed to squeeze in Refik Anadol’s latest exhibition, ‘Echoes of the Earth’. (I might write about it at some point)

Sleep has been scant and irregular. To be honest, I think my body is still in a New York time zone…

However frantic, that time has been incredibly meaningful and insightful, and I am grateful to the friends who gave me hours of their busy days.

A few things have become apparent…

—

New York, my lover, who always responds to my “You up, wanna come over?” texts, you have become seductively comfortable, predictable, and easy to navigate. Whether I’ve been gone for a week or two months, it takes me no time to plug back in (despite my resistance). I’m in complete sync with the rhythm and flow of the city, flirting with everything and everyone and feeling dangerously at ease.

If I am not careful, I can clearly see myself waking up in this city at 40, single, and with fading memories of my glorious 30s. I have no interest in that.

The point is, New York is not going anywhere, and I can always come back and have a life here if that is what the heart wants. Sure, places close down and new ones open, neighbourhoods evolve, and your social circles have to continually be rebuilt, but fundamentally, the city and its characters have stayed the same whether you look back to Sex and the City, Seinfeld, or Bonfire of the Vanities.

The insatiable yearning to identify with a neighbourhood, your job, or your lifestyle is a New York City trademark. That is why all these IG meme accounts are so funny—because they are bizarrely accurate. And you know what? I’m a bit uninterested in interacting with those identities anymore.

Now is the time to explore. New York will have to wait and prove itself once more.  

—

LA, with all its challenges and downsides, is and will always be a vibe. There is just something about this place that snaps you out of “it” (whatever “it” is) and gets the mind wandering.

I’m super fortunate to have some very close friends here. I have lived in a few neighbourhoods and experienced the city as a local.

I just love this place. Every single time I come back, I learn something new about myself that I couldn’t see before.

Even 24 hours in LA before my flight to Sydney were enough to reset me for what was to come. I can’t wait for my long weekend here on the way back.

The goal is to make Sydney the next such destination—a place I wouldn’t relocate to yet visit often and feel like a local.

—

Complete freedom is a gift we don’t get too often in our lives, yet it’s not as easy as it sounds.

When everything is possible, and you have little to no constraints, suddenly, that freedom can turn into a paralyzing uncertainty.

Suddenly, it can feel like too much pressure to make the right choices in the moment, so you spare yourself the regrets in hindsight.

Cole Schafer writes: “Fog itself can't hurt you. It can't suffocate you. It can't swallow you. It can't cock back and sock you. Yet, fog is creepy. Terrifying, even. […] What's horrifying about fog isn't the fog itself but the uncertainty that fog represents.”

I disagree. Too much uncertainty can mentally suffocate, paralyze, and stop you in your tracks.

Sure, you are still alive, but what difference does it make if you can’t make a step forward?

Again, those monkeys steering the ship in your mind.

Every now and then, make sure you give them that infamous Elon Musk line: “Go f*ck yourself, is that clear?”

As a friend of mine told me last week: “Don’t rush into anything…you will find your path.”

The coming weeks and months will be a lot of fun. I’ve really missed writing from the road. It’s raw, less structured and polished, but, in a way, more real.

There will be a lot more questions than answers (at the start, at least) and a lot more writing in the moment instead of reporting in hindsight.

Hopefully, as the weeks go by, the path will start to reveal itself.

“I don’t know where I’m going, but I know how to get there”, as the African lion trackers would say.

I sure do. I sure do.

And just like that, we lost the race with the sun.

It’s going to be a great day. As we continue…

G.