Secret Royalty On Tour

Someone on Insta chat asked me the other day if I was having any Laos revelations yet. Like it was only a matter of time.

There’s this persistent idea that a mid-life woman travelling alone must be either in crisis or on some kind of spiritual quest.
As though the minute we cross a border we’re legally required to have an awakening, cut our hair, start journalling and return home with a tattoo of such deep meaning not even you understand it a year on.

I might have had one or two of those trips.
The ‘leave your relationship,’ ‘burn down your career,’ ‘maybe I was never built for domesticity in the first place’ kind of holidays.

But I want to stress – it’s not mandatory for a woman to need to change herself all the goddamn time.

I’m not in Laos to excavate my soul, lose five kilos or transform into the higher, shinier version of myself the algorithm thinks I should be.

I’m here because I know how to give myself a good time.
I’m here because the world is facinating.
I’m here because watching a German family with adult children negotiate poolside boundaries is honestly more compelling than anything a Bali retreat could serve up to me.

I didn’t come for salvation. I came for stimulation. If a revelation happens, fine – but it will have to shout to be heard. Because I’m busy listening to the music instead of paying attention to the noise.