The thing about traveling that I’ve been reminded of on this trip to Europe is how foreign everything feels when you have to navigate life in a new country. And before you say, “Well, duh, Vanessa, you are in another country,” hear me out. Everyone talks about jet lag and adjusting to the time difference, which I certainly felt in the first couple of days. But honestly? I find the time difference even more challenging as the weeks go on. Between trying to maintain some semblance of a routine and juggling work for my US-based clients, I’ve found myself craving something familiar.
Much like I do at home, I’ve been using my sanity strolls to break up my day over here. And on one particular walk last week, I decided to explore a new area where I remembered catching a glimpse of a horse barn. Of course, I had only seen it while passing by in a car, so in my mind it felt a lot closer…but I decided to walk to it anyway.
The walk was much longer than I anticipated, and it wasn’t a particularly warm day. I eventually made it to the barn — which was clearly marked as private property — said hello to the horses from a respectful distance, and headed back. But on my way home, I noticed yet another barn tucked way off in the distance. I made a mental note to return and check it out on a better day.
A few days later, when the weather cooperated, I did just that. Only this time, instead of simply passing by, I found a horse turned out in a paddock right near the path. I was able to spend a few quiet minutes with him. He was young and inquisitive, while his buddy nearby seemed far more interested in his hay. It wasn’t a particularly noteworthy interaction, but it came at the exact moment I’d been missing my four-legged friends back home. And somehow, this small encounter helped me feel more connected to my surroundings, like I’d found a tiny piece of home in an unfamiliar place.
That moment reminded me that grounding doesn’t always look like a perfect routine or a familiar place. Sometimes it’s simply recognizing pieces of yourself in unexpected spaces. For me, it was two curious horses on a gray afternoon. For someone else, it might be a cozy café, a morning run, or a favorite scent packed in their suitcase. But wherever we go, there are small anchors waiting to steady us. We just have to be willing to wander long enough to find them.
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