Many of the passengers around him gave him dirty looks, even made some “Zzzz” sounds. I wondered whether this was due to him being a foreigner or due to his disturbing noise. He took no notice.

If I were a racist, I’d have thrown him into a pot of all Balkans, who had apparently not yet learned to behave according to Swiss culture. I would have downright missed that the young man was probably an angel, sent to spread joy on this gray, silent and smileless morning. His cheerful conversation, that no one understood, was contagious. At least for those who had not thrown the angel in a pot.

My thoughts wandered. I asked myself, why I had even noticed the man’s nationality. He was, above all, just a human. Had the recent media rabble-rousing against foreigners snuk into my subconscious? After all, I do know better:

The foreigners in our countries are no others than the generous hosts in the places we travel to.

When travelling, we appreciate the helpfulness, openness and warmth of the people of all countries, races and religions. Of that I can tell you a thing or two! But if the same kind hosts suddenly appears on our home turf… we look at them from a different angle.

Oh, I could also tell you a thing or two about fellow countrymen who behaved rudely when abroad and about hosts who tirelessly forgave such bad manners.

Just then, the man on the phone laughed out loud and pulled me back into the gray day, which had gained some colour. I know the feeling of being a stranger. To be foreign, far, far away from home. Vulnerable and in need of help, because everything is different where you are and finally your realize that there are many ways to live. How reassuring is it, during such moments, to look around you and spot a few friendly, smiling faces.

Do racists ever go travelling abroad? That would actually be a contradiction in itself, wouldn’t it?

Next time, when a trashy newspaper headline gets on my nerves, I will dive back into my memories and draw strength and assurance from my multi-cultural mind.

Klöntal, Klöntal, Klöntal, I keep turning the words over in my mind. Don’t I know this from my childhood? No matter how hard I try, I can’t get the memory back.

  We reach the valley on a sunny Saturday. The lake shines a turquoise blue, the steep rocks of the surrounding mountains host a few last snow slithers and melting water gushes down. Paradise, I think to myself.

Lenny and I explore the lake shore in a canoe, we hike to an impressive water fall and grill dinner on a fire.

We start our return journey a bit too late and miss most of the stunning scenery from the Klausen pass. Nevertheless, the journey is spectacular.

Klöntal: we’ll be back!

Mid March we were invited to attend a family photo shooting of the Annabelle magazine. The anniversary issue should portrait Swiss families in summer fashion. Why not? It’s never a bad thing to experience situations that are alien to us. Fashion? Make up? Posing? Our faces don’t often see much more than soap and water. Most of our clothes are second-hand.

Excited and keen we arrived in Zurich. The photostudio was like a bee hive. Stylists, photographers, organisers, hair-dressers, journalists… cosmetic products, clothes and cameras. And more than anything else: a lot of very nice people. We were dressed, made up and photographed.

Smile and smile again, stand there and stand here, and over it was. Happy and content, enriched with a new experience, we drove home. The pictures are beautiful!

To the Annabelle online article: Family Hudson: The Globetrotters.

Sometimes we ride on a bus from nowhere to nowhere
and we wonder if anybody knows that we’re there.

Sometimes we ride on a train listening to the monotonous sound of the railway
and wonder where we will end up on that day.

Sometimes we lie in a hammock listening to the sound of the sea
and wonder why it is so nice to just be.

Sometimes we stand on a road trying to hitch a lift
and wonder if people know that this feeling of freedom is a great gift.

Sometimes we see some ugly things like rubbish, abuse and fights
and we wonder when people will start to respect nature’s rights.

Sometimes we need visas and permissions to enter a place
and we wonder how people can claim nature to be their own space.

Sometimes we feel like in a good dream, determined to make it last, whatever
and we wish the future will allow us to stay in this dream forever, together.

Actually, I’m in no crisis at all.

Yet, I do feel the sudden and strong urge to re-define myself.

I’ve long ago stopped the torture of finding an answer as to WHY I am in this world. I just did. Stop, I mean. I haven’t ask the question anymore and with that simple act, finding answers became obsolete.

For many years, actually nearly all of my grownup life, I knew who I was. I was a traveller. At heart and in action. The world accepted the definition. Nadine Hudson, traveller. And a good one too. For years, I didn’t do much else than dive deep into different cultures, meet people from all over the world, learn about myself and have one adventure after the next.

When I didn’t travel I talked about the travels. I was asked for advice, asked to write about it, asked to lecture about it, asked to show or pose for pictures. Oh, and did I mention how good this felt? The Hudson family. At last I had found my niche. My personal way to contribute to a good world, to help build bridges, spread hope and understanding, even to reduce fear and worries. My own way to make people smile. And still, it carries on, even though we have settled down.

And I could drag it out, possibly forever. Or at least until we’ll head off again.

But isn’t it time to re-define myself? I am no traveller at the moment. Hell, we can’t even afford a holiday in Asia and even if we could… would we? Last year when travelling to Egypt, we highly enjoyed it, but we also felt ready to come home after a mere fortnight. Yes, we did. Because we like our home, because we like our village, because we like our country and – even our couch. I don’t want to feel like one of those hippies, who have missed the end of hippiedom and still run around with dreadlocks screaming peace forty years later.

I do miss travelling – sometimes at least – and I do hope to be on the road again in years to come, but shall I really live on this one thought for the next ten years? Isn’t it time to re-define myself?

I was once explained the wisdom of the chakras. According to this philosophy, our life moves in 7 year cycles corresponding with each of the 7 chakra centres located in our light body. The 41^st year is when wisdom meets wisdom (check it out here) and is called “wiseman is ready”. Since I am 41 it definitely is time to re-define a few essentials in my life.

When opening a Twitter account, you are prompted to give a profile of yourself, using no more than 140 characters.

Not as easy as it sounds for a Nadine-person like me, who’s had so many different lives.

Am I a traveller, a writer, a mother and wife, am I a student, a bore, a friend, a networker, a freelance, a learner, a teacher?

Who will I be in the next seven years of my chakra being? Will I manage to let go of the traveller Nadine, but achieve to take the spirit of the nomad to the next phase of my existence? We have a few more travel slide shows planned for this year, I want to finish my latest book with travel anecdotes, but after that the time is ripe to re-define my being.

Time to let go of what has been and open both hands to what will come.

Actually, ironically, that pretty much sounds like the act of travelling itself. We travel to be lead into the unknown, to be forced to let go of habits and the comfortable invisible blanket we like to wrap ourselves in.

So if my life is still a quest to seek the unknown and to spontaneously explore new ground (even within our village community) is it really necessary to look for a new definition? Maybe I should just let go of any efforts to find out who I am and understand that it’s what I do that counts. 41, a good age to make the wiseman ready. I shall be locally involved and globally connected!

Where do you stand in your life cycle?