Morning Kindness at the Campsite
On March 22, I woke up at my campsite around 7 a.m., the cool morning air still hanging over the area. I was about to make a simple breakfast when a man walked over from a caravan parked nearby.
With a smile, he handed me a cup of coffee and said, “Keep going. I used to travel a lot too, but not like the way you’re doing it. I admire what you’re doing.”
He then invited me to see the inside of his caravan. Everything was self-built—water, power, and space arranged so he could live fully on his own. It was a self-sufficient home on wheels. I couldn’t help but admire it. Part of me even felt a little envious, seeing the “someday” dream I had in my head already lived out by someone else.
Remembering a Promise
That day, I had planned to continue my journey and leave Albany behind. But then I remembered something important—about a week earlier, I had promised someone, “Let’s meet again.”
I had completely forgotten until that moment. A mix of guilt and determination filled me. I didn’t want to break that promise, so I turned back toward Albany. It was just over 10 kilometers away—manageable, but it meant climbing that steep hill again. Still, it was my responsibility. I lowered my head and pedaled on.
Along the way, I stopped to rest and someone offered me a juice. These small, unexpected gestures remind me again and again how much kindness exists on the road.
A Chance Meeting at the Library
Back in Albany, I stopped at the library and met a young man named Eric. He was preparing for a journey to Japan—by bicycle. His travel style and his interest in Japan felt strangely familiar, as though our paths connected in spirit, even if only briefly. We weren’t traveling together, but meeting him made my journey feel richer.
Later, while resting in another spot, someone gave me ice cream and sausages. I hadn’t eaten sausages in a long time, and while the flavor was a bit different compared to what I knew from Japan, the fact that they were given to me made them taste special.
Returning to the Same Campsite
As evening came, time was running short, so I returned to the same campsite as the day before. Dinner was simple—just rice—but the slight sweetness brought me comfort after a long day.
That night, I followed my usual routine: setting up inside the tent, opening my laptop to do some work, and then falling asleep.
Morning, cycling, meals, small tasks, and rest. It’s a simple rhythm, but I find peace in it. Tomorrow, I won’t be turning back to Albany again. From here, a new road begins, and I’m ready to move forward.
