Like any traveler will know, it's hard to get back in the saddle after finding a haven of peace, tranquility, and emotional safety. Amid the chaotic hustle and bustle of Istanbul's streets, I had found a place where I could probably hang my hat, but something in my heart was still stirring me to move on. It was a sad goodbye to Emily and her neighborhood that had, in a sense, become mine. Ismael the shop owner, Onur the rug dealer, and Mohamed the barber had become my friends and made me feel at home on the Bosphorus. But I have a mission, a goal to achieve: to get around the world on Tara. So, with a bit of my heart forever in Istanbul, I set off toward Georgia via the Black Sea, knowing that I will see my friends again soon, and Emily even sooner! My feelings are torn between my longing for adventure and the serenity and well-being I found in her presence. I text our mutual acquaintance who introduced us, "Mate, you’ve messed me up on this one. She's either my Penelope or the Medusa that turns heroes to stone!"

The border crossing into Turkey was a sobering and novel experience. Leaving the EU for the gates of the East, I crossed a DMZ bridge. On each side, Turkish and Greek soldiers equipped with Ops-Core gear looked a bit bored, relaxing in the morning sun. I waved at them, empathizing with their mundane duty of standing all day looking at the other side with nothing else to do. The Turkish border customs officers were as stern as the tail-wagging dogs that roamed around the barriers. I tried my best Turkish to elicit a smile from the one checking my paperwork. No reaction. I kept at it, determined to see some humanity in this stern Turkish Official. Eventually, I saw a suppressed smile appear, satisfied he wasn’t a robot but a human after all—a victory under my belt. I had made it and opened up Tara onto the Turkish roads!

It was such a relief to meet Alex again; we hadn’t seen each other for over 12 years, probably more, since I joined up. We grew up together in Brussels in the late '90s, early 2000s. Our youth was a mix of European technocracy and dabbling even fingering with criminality. Brussels in those days was wild, hash from Morocco, ecstasy from Holland, and a booming underground techno scene was too hard to resist for our young and curious souls.

The storm that chased me from the Dolomites continued to pursue me across the Balkans. I was set to head to the coast as fast as possible to escape the rain and soggy boots. But, as is often the case, no plan survives contact; or as Mike Tyson so eloquently put it, "Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face."

Departures are never easy; they signify change, stepping away from something, someone, somewhere. Going somewhere new and having to say goodbye—a bittersweet mix. Just getting to the departure line was a test in itself. Having partied a bit too much a few nights before leaving to celebrate the removal of my kidney stone, I let procrastination get the better of me and left some of my admin to be done at the last minute.

Kidney stone removed, gear repacked, keys to apartment to be handed in to my landlord in the morning, tomorrow I go.

Couldn’t sleep yesterday, apprehension, doubts, firework of thoughts kicking off in my mind.

Had the last meal with my friends, the thumbs up from my therapist, I’m ready. Everytime I hug or spend time with loved ones I’m assaulted by doubts. I calm myself down and remember that they’ll be in my heart throughout this, this is not a goodbye, it’s a see you later on the road!

Well, there I was days from departing, my gear ready, my motorcycle prepared. My mind as resolute as it could be. The start of my adventure was within reach, I could feel it! I had packed all my belongings; sold all the stuff I didn’t need. My nights were consumed by the departure. I had handed in my last bits of my military equipment a few days before, itself a strange feeling of letting go. The shedding of my old self had begun.

All stories start with a call to adventure, but before that happens there’s normality or the ordinary world: what we know, who we are, the normal, the comfortable place within one is yet compelled to leave….

My normality was being a soldier for fourteen years, one might say that was an adventure in itself. Sadly it was one that took its toll on me.