Paula Brukmüller - Flowers from Greece - The Autobiography of the Journalist Who Turned a Personal Tragedy into an Inspiring World Tour

For 15 seconds I was in despair, but then I took a deep breath and told myself that I had a problem to solve and tears and regrets would not help.

I called the Australian embassy, but the clerk said I had no prediction and that all I had to do was wait or buy a direct ticket from Auckland. I should have done it from the start, but I didn’t realize the connection that made the ticket cheaper by $300 would be in Australia.

I booked a hostel for three nights in downtown Kuala Lumpur and delayed my ticket. Since there was nothing else to do, I was grateful for the opportunity to get to know another Asian country and decided to make the most of my days in Malaysia. Something inside me was still telling me to cancel New Zealand and Chile and leave for the Philippines, and to be sure of what to do, I wanted to be quiet in the coming days, including on social networks.

The only exception I made was to video chat with Stephany, a former co-worker whom I only came to call my friend as we started to virtually talk upon my arrival in Bangkok. With her, I shared the anxieties of waiting for the visa and my quest for self-knowledge and spiritual connection. My moody sister Stephany also had access to my deepest sentimental secrets. Because we were alike in our emotions, I felt understood and welcomed by her.

In my days in Kuala Lumpur, I walked through Chinatown, through the Petronas Towers, and the beautiful and colorful Hindu temples of the Batu Caves. I recorded a little of everything, but only posted a summary on my last day as I drove to the airport.

Inside the subway, I was overwhelmed by a sense of belonging. I looked at the expressions of people coming and going around the city and felt inexplicable compassion. Does anyone here knows they are their own universe? Am I aware of that myself?

I wondered what pain these people were carrying, and I could see that, just like me, they were all doing their best to have some comfort in their souls, to feel happiness and peace. We are unique, but at the same time, we are all the same. I cried and made peace with my last choices. It was time to go to Chile.

I arrived at check-in without any news of the visa and, as I could not board, bought a direct ticket to the capital of New Zealand.

Imade peace with the fact that Auckland became just a long connection on my trip through Oceania. I had only spent two days in other countries before and agreed with myself to come back with more time to visit Australia as well. Besides, everything was so expensive after spending so many months in Asia that I was glad I didn’t have much time to spend money.

I even postponed my ticket to Chile, and an hour later gave up the crazy change and went back to the original plan. To fix everything, I spent another $300 dollars on fees and had on hours of counseling with Stephany on endless late-night video calls.

Now, I could tell you about the incredible places I visited in the capital of New Zealand, the peace that flooded me in the late afternoon as I watched the seagulls fly over the marina or the fun Germans I met at the hostel. But what was most special about New Zealand in me was the feeling I had since I woke up on March 8, knowing that the big day had come.

It was raining, and as I carried my backpacks toward the bus stop, I was immensely proud of my entire journey there.

Just like in Turkey, I found myself “completing a phase” and had a million reasons to give thanks for everything I chose to live in those intense months. It was International Women’s Day and I was the most amazing woman in the world! The one that came out without a destination, with a broken heart and one desire: to be happy.

And how happy I was! I didn’t even know it was possible to be so happy, even in the face of the painful consequences that came with some choices, I was very happy and could only give thanks for each experience and for each person with whom I had so far connected.

I would finally complete a trip around our planet Earth!

It felt like waking up from a wonderful dream and finding it to be true. But just as this truth dazzled me, it scared me. The biggest dream of my life was coming to an end.

While feeling a euphoria for living the exciting reality of the moment, I also lived an immense nostalgia. I immediately remembered the night I was in the colorful light bar in Greece, the billiard balls hitting the table and Laurent singing “beautiful girl” to my ears. I knew I would miss that moment forever. The moments I most wanted to perpetuate, the smells, colors, sounds, and touches I recorded in my memory would never come back. In those moments, I wish I could relive everything and never get to the point of crossing the ocean.

In the end, the beauty of the trip was not in the “around the world” itself, but in the journey until its fulfillment. And again, the universe came as a punch in the stomach and told me that everything passes. Whatever good or bad, absolutely everything passes.

After 10 hours of flight between Auckland and Santiago, I still faced another hour’s flight to Calama and 1h30 on a bus to San Pedro do Atacama. My only meal in the last 13 hours had been a bag of potato chips at the Calama bus station.

It was very cold when I got into the hostel, but I was warmly welcomed by a group of three French, one Hungarian, one Mexican, and one Australian who were drinking beer. I took a shower to warm up and joined them. My body was exhausted, but the time difference from New Zealand to Chile was 16 hours and I didn’t feel sleepy.

It was after midnight and Marcelo, the hostel’s Brazilian receptionist, told me that there was no open place where I could buy something to eat. I accepted a glass of beer and ended up joining everyone on a private party in the middle of the desert.

A pickup truck lit the small valley between two dunes and functioned both as a soundboard and bar. Ahead, another improvised drum with a board also served cheap drinks with ice of questionable origin. I heard someone shouting at people to put the plastic bottles and cups in the trash bags, but it was impossible to see where those bags were in the darkness.

There was no moon and the sky was incredibly starry and colorful. Gabor, the shy Hungarian with small brown eyes and a gray beard, offered me a glass of rum and Coke. I had been keeping an eye on him from the moment I arrived at the hostel.

- I came to this party because of you – I told him, balancing my body weight on the tip of my toes so he could listen to me and I got only a side smile.

Embarrassed by his silence, I grabbed my cell phone and tried to make a video that showed at least some of that crazy party in the middle of the aridest desert in the world.

- Wait – Gabor took my arm – you said you came to the party for what reason?

- Because of you – I smiled looking to the side – But don’t worry…

- What do you mean? – he interrupted me.

- I meant that if you want to kiss me – now I was looking straight into his eyes – you can do it anytime you want.

He didn’t wait any second longer. Everyone around us celebrated the new couple and I already felt dizzy because of the liquor.

The last thing I remember that night is lying next to Gabor on one of the dunes, looking at the Milky Way. I remember wanting to photograph that starry sky, but the camera on my phone couldn’t capture that incredible beauty.

I woke up after noon, sweating inside my nylon jacket. My fanny pack was still around my body and I was still wearing sneakers. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere, and I remembered that after the failed photo of the stars, I lay in Gabor’s arms and I don’t know where I had put it.