The mentally stable and alcoholics tell me I don’t need therapy. The traumatized and therapy-experienced tell me I do.

I realize understanding yourself is like understanding a country—sometimes, you need to look from the outside in. However, I can’t shake the school of thought that we have friends and strangers for that. As Tomas from Caffeine Enlightenment mentions:

Putting all of it on the shoulders of the therapist, you allow another person to tighten their grip on the wheel of your life. You assume that someone knows you way better than you. You create a dependency link.

Of course, this depends on how sales-driven and ethical your therapist is, but for the moment, let’s pretend (agree?) that you know yourself better than anyone else. Maybe you’ve managed to look from the outside in through meditation, psychedelics, or what I’m concentrating on for today’s article—social bonds.

Receiving sufficient social support has been shown to play a key role in coping with psychological distress and is associated with various physical health benefits both within and across cultures. The difference is that the type of social support can vary vastly depending on the culture.

For example, European-Americans are far more likely than East Asians or Asian-Americans to actively seek social support from others, such as telling a friend about their problems. At first, this may sound surprising, given that Asian cultures are much more interdependent. This means people view themselves as inherently connected with others and prioritize collective goals over personal ones. However, this cultural difference in social support seeking appears largely because East Asians are more concerned about how seeking social support will disrupt their relationships with others.

East Asians tend to seek social support from those close to them, but unlike Westerners, they are more inclined to use implicit social support—they find emotional solace by reflecting on their close relationships.

Research indicates that European Americans experience reduced physical stress responses when they can seek social support directly, like asking for advice or assistance. In contrast, Asian Americans exhibit a lower stress response when they contemplate their close relationships.

Similarly, European Americans show more noticeable health benefits when they perceive that they have much social support. In contrast, those same health benefits do not increase alongside perceived support for Asian Americans. Furthermore, Asian Americans experience greater stress relief from unsolicited social support compared to solicited support due to their worries about the social costs of seeking help. In contrast, European Americans find social support equally effective in reducing stress, whether they have requested it or not.

In addition, the kinds of explicit support people offer their friends vary across cultures. North Americans typically offer more emotion-focused support (such as encouraging or comforting words). If you hear the words “You go, girl/You’re amazing, man/Go get ‘em, tiger,” I’ll bet my savings it’s coming from an American or Canadian.

In contrast, East Asians, Russians, and, from my experience, Poles and Ukrainians tend to offer more problem-focused advice, which I jive with more. Why? Who the hell knows? As a Chilean-born Belgian raised in Canada, I’m a Westerner with a sprinkle of Latino. Yet, I’d rather have someone say, “Nolan, get your head out of your ass and go into the mountains for a day without a cell phone,” than “You’re awesome, don’t let anyone tell you differently, bud.”

Yet, I don’t have a culture-bound explanation as to why the mentally stable friends and alcoholic friends tell me I don’t need therapy and why the traumatized and therapy-experienced tell me I do. It comes down to the fact that we don’t see the world for what it is but as who we are.

My mentally stable friends reflect my strength and autonomy. They’re likely to take me into Mother Nature for a day of intensive sport before recommending a therapist. The alcoholics in my life are liable to lie to themselves by saying, “Alcohol makes a man honest—let’s drink and talk it out,” not realizing that a lack of inhibition is not synonymous with the truth. They don’t realize that initial thoughts are often wrong or, more often, incomplete.

Those with trauma and experience with therapy can often complete my thoughts with phrases that capture feelings I didn’t know how to express. Some of them speak my academic language with the rational compassion I seek. Others speak the language of how the moon and planets dictate our emotions—a language that my heart tries to appreciate as play and art, but my mind understands as harmful pseudoscience (probably because of my academic cultural conditioning).

Whether it’s as well-studied as cognitive behavioural therapy or as spiritual as Astrology, your cultural background affects the type of therapy that works for you.

Next week, I’ll release my research and experiences with culture-bound therapy. I’ll show you what kind of therapy works, depending on the culture.

For now, I’m happy to be in Poland with my students, who have treated me like a family member.

If you’re new to Born Without Borders, you might not know this season is about exploring slow travel's therapeutic effects as I quest to the North of Sweden.

Thanks to travelling the world, interviewing people across cultures, doing deep dives and transparently providing links to thorough cultural psychology research, Born Without Borders is like your own cultural consultancy (but better because you can bring it with you in your back pocket for a fraction of the cost).

I don’t sell what you can find in a theory book. This is about talking to and about people from all walks of life, not just those in the corporate world.

Through my stories, articles, interviews, and community, I can help raise your understanding of the world, culture-bound mental illnesses and therapy, and how to step outside your comfort zone through the power of quests and stories.

Together, we can decrease polarization, help people look from the outside in and the inside out, and create a community for those whose sense of home isn’t tied down to geography.

So, if you want to raise your cultural competency and engage in first-hand stories, consider upgrading TODAY. I’ve got a hard deadline in September to make this a profitable turnaround… Otherwise, I might just have to retire to regular cultural consulting at $150/hour, which neither you nor I would want.

For $6/month or $50/year, you can help ensure that Born Without Borders stays afloat. Your support gives me the time to research and write my best work on a platform not controlled by ads. You can also support me through Buy Me a Coffee.

At the end of every journey, I write a book. My first one, Living with the In-Laws, is available on Amazon. Paid subscribers get a free Kindle or PDF edition, and founding members get a signed paperback.

Related Articles

Gweilo, Gringo, Gaijin, Gora, Guiri—why do so many derogatory slurs towards white people start with G?

No, it’s definitely not because people think we’re Great. It’s purely coincidental. Gweilo, which is widely used in Hong Kong, means white ghost or white devil. Gringo is for those who want a wall but fly over it every winter to stuff their faces in all-you-can-eat resorts in Mexico. Gaijin is what the Japanese use for foreigners who don’t look Asian. Gora is a racial epithet for white people in India. And Guiri, well, that’s me.

The simple answer is that Guiri is slang for foreigners in Spain. However, it is usually only used for foreigners who arrive white and leave red. A more thorough definition comes from Errores de un guiri.

"¿Qué es “guiri?” Un guiri es un extranjero que vive en España. Alguien que pone ketchup en la tortilla, mezcla los verbos estar y ser, deja propinas, busca restaurantes abiertos entre las 15:00 y 20:00, sale al club a las diez, llora en el ayuntamiento, pide paella fuera de la comunidad Valencia, y comete otros errores graves." What is “guiri?” A guiri is a foreigner living in Spain. Someone who puts ketchup on the tortilla, mixes the verbs estar and ser, leaves tips, looks for restaurants open between 15:00-20:00, goes to the club at ten, cries at the town hall, asks for paella outside the Valencia community, and makes other serious mistakes.

The word Guiri isn’t necessarily racist. After all, Spanish people are white, too. They’re just more tanned, shorter, and less tolerant to temperature changes than those of us from up North.

Although Guiri isn’t always derogatory, it does affect how people see you. When I met El Espejo de mi Alma, it was love at first sight, but not first sound. She was attracted to me the second she saw me and turned off the second I said something in Spanish.

Why is it that when foreigners speak English, we find it sexy, but when anglophones speak a foreign language, people find it funny or borderline repugnant (especially in Paris)?

Woe is me! It’s so hard belonging to white, Northern, English-speaking hegemony. What have we ever done to be the enemy? All we ever wanted was a civilized world and to eat something other than potatoes.

Jokes aside, El Espejo de mi Alma noticed the difference in how she saw me in Spain vs. Canada. In Canada, she saw me as more powerful and astute, and in Spain, she saw me as a Guiri—someone transient—which subconsciously led to feelings of insecurity.

In other words, cultural context changes the weight of our words and how we think of others, even when it’s unconscious.

Historical context, power dynamics, social norms, and every art major’s favourite, intersectionality, affect the meaning of a word. A microaggression directed at a person of colour who is also a woman may have different implications compared to the same microaggression directed at a man of colour. Terms that were once commonly used without consequence may now be recognized as derogatory due to increased awareness of historical injustices. And a term that is considered a racial slur in one country might be used casually in another without the same level of offence.

However, most of the ink spilled on the subject comes from “culture writers” in America, where white people are the majority. But worldwide, white people are a minority. Yes, the world is shaped in our favour; we must check our privilege and be allies. That doesn’t mean we’re not subject to the power of words and, to a larger extent, labels.

Though labels can aid methodologies in social sciences and give us a categorical way to describe ourselves, they shouldn't keep us in boxes. One of the therapeutic effects of deep travel is understanding how malleable these labels are. We all need to leave the culture we grew up in to look from the outside in. That’s a start to seeing ourselves and others for who they really are.

If you want to learn more about the therapeutic effects of slow travel, how to stay fit on the road, and how to turn your journeys into stories, hit the subscribe button and follow my journey across Europe to the North of Sweden.

Learn more about the journey.

If you believe my work has value and enjoy reading on a platform that doesn’t steal your attention with ads, please consider becoming a paid subscriber and sharing my work with your family and friends. You can also Buy Me a Coffee. Your support gives me the time to research and write my best work.

Learn Spanish through humour.

Learn more about Spain.

I also recommend checking out Brendan Boyle’s La Comunidad!

Feel free to send me a direct message or email me if you want personalized acculturation advice in Spain.

On the road? I also coach people on how to stay fit while travelling. [email protected]

This article is now on Ghost, an open-source, carbon-neutral, nonprofit that isn't VC-backed by fascists & algorithmically driven.

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I’ve struggled with occasional depression, but nothing outside of the cultural norm in Canada. I’d simply call those episodes “The Winter Blues” or “SAD (Seasonal affective disorder). Russians might say зимняя хандра (winter melancholy), which is seen as a more subtle or nuanced experience compared to clinical terms like Norweigen’s Vinterdepresjon (Winter Depression). The Japanese might say 冬のブルース (Winter blues). And some friends might say, “Dude, it’s just time to start snowboarding again.”

That’s because the way we define, experience, and heal from mental illness is culture-bound—something I’m exploring during my quest through Europe to the North of Sweden on Born Without Borders.

Part of 2022 was a different story. Waking up with suicidal thoughts became normal. Only two friends knew because I didn’t want to worry my family. Plus, I always had ice baths if the thoughts grew too loud. They woke me up in the morning, boosted my testosterone before workouts (according to Huberman, the bro science dude), and helped me handle stress.

Ice baths helped me, but they didn’t fix me. 

The only times I was consistently fulfilled and tackled any challenge was when I travelled alone. On a pragmatic level, it was because I could save money and exercise as much as I wanted. I didn’t feel pressured to spend money on taxis instead of tipsy twenty-kilometre jogs back to Airbnbs from bars. I could devote time to art and sports instead of comfort and ease. And, of course, I was free to change plans at a whim.

Call it egotistical, but the ability to travel in a constant state of flux connected me to something outside of myself. The contradiction here is that the second I found someone equally willing to say “yes” to whatever the universe offered, I forgot all about travelling alone. I forgot about the calling.

As I often say, my sense of home is not rooted in geography but in people.

My mother and I.

Not to get all Freudian on you, but when I met el espejo de mi alma, it was like returning home to that feeling only a mother can give. She gave me a reflection my soul was craving, but behind the mirror were demons we hadn’t overcome.

As I described in “A Planster’s Healing Journey,” the pain of our story caused the cosmic strings of a quest through Europe to the North of Sweden to snap me back like an elastic.

When someone reflects your light, you see how to grow, but when someone reflects your darkness, you learn why to grow. And ‘the how’ always falls apart without ‘the why.’

How am I going on this quest?

With trains, buses, ride shares, bikes, horses, mules, and whatever it takes to travel sustainably. For tips on how to do that in Europe, check out “To Train or Bus Through Europe.”

I’ll also use Home Exchange and Couchsurfer to make this trip financially possible.

Why am I going on this quest?

I love where I live, and my income is only stable enough if I stay. So why?

I could tell you it’s because I want to find a stable sense of home I can take with me, to understand my lack of boundaries, masochistic tendencies, and so on. But deep down, I know a quest might not answer any of that.

The quest is calling every fibre in my body. I know that this quest is the beginning of something new. What exactly? Who the hell knows? What I do know is that I’m here to write.

Writing, like all art and relationships, should serve as a reflection to find something in ourselves. Through everything I research and experience, I’ll help you find ways to start your own quest and break free from any borders that impose your mind. Yes, I want to explore and show you more places, culture-bound mental illnesses, fitness-on-the-road tips, and ways to travel therapeutically, but the core of travel therapy always comes down to the quest.

The Quest Route

The North of Sweden is calling me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been called a Viking throughout my life. No, it’s definitely not because of my patchy-ass beard. Nor are raping or pillaging necessarily my forte. However, I was meant for physically and mentally demanding journeys to distant lands. Somewhere in there is why I’m here.

Whether you’re travelling or just moved to a new country, there’s always mental health support. BetterHelp and The Calm Zone both have lists for emergencies.

Looking for personalized travel therapy, fitness on the road, or journey writing help? Email me at [email protected].

Who is Nolan Yuma?

I’m Nolan, a man of no land. A writer, educator, guiri, actor, older brother, ocean lover, irritable cabron, hot sauce enthusiast, third culture kid fascinated by cultural psychology—but mostly, I'm inescapably foreign. I was born in Santiago de Chile, took my first steps in Antwerp, Belgium, and grew up in British Columbia, Canada. And the moment I felt a deep sense of home in Vancouver, Canada, I ended up in Spain.

Want to know more?

I’m a planster.

If you’re a writer, you’ve probably heard the terms panster, plotter, and planster before. A pantser is someone who “flies by the seat of their pants,” meaning they don’t plan out anything in their story or plan very little. A plotter is someone who plans out their novel before they write it. And a planster is like an agnostic, a wishy-washy mother f****r who dips his toes in where he likes—me.

That’s not just how I craft my writing but how I live my life. Aside from my workout routine, my plans are just guidelines. If people, life, the universe (god?), an airline, governments (the Chinese, Canadian, and Spanish ones in my case), o lo que sea throw me a curveball… well, I don’t always get a home run, but I roll with it anyway.

Right now, I’m in the planning stage for a 3-4 month journey through Europe to promote the therapeutic effects of slow travel.

I’ve almost finished writing my outline with the main reveals and turning points I want to hit, but the characters I meet along the way can still bring my story in a whole new direction.

Just like Mike Sowden, Elin Petronella, Brent Hartinger, Michael Jensen, y El Espejo de mi Alma did to the piece you’re reading right now.

Before Mike Sowden recommended Happiness of Pursuit by Chris Guillebeau, I realized I live my life like I craft my writing. This realization came at the same time my sense of home was ripped away, and the cosmic strings of a quest through Europe to the North of Sweden pulled at me like an elastic.

If you’ve ever felt a strange sense of sadness or alienation, there’s a potential way out of the confusion—just shift this feeling to a sense of purpose. It’s not all about happiness, although happiness often results from doing something you love. Instead, it’s about challenge and fulfillment, finding the perfect combination of striving and achievement that comes from reaching a big goal. Metaphorically, discontent is the match, and inspiration is the kindling. 

— Chris Guillebeau

El Espejo de mi Alma, the woman I was going to marry this summer, was the match. Within a week, my body and soul knew she was the one. But the one for what? That was for my mind to interpret... or misinterpret.

How our wedding plans fell through is a prologue full of love, betrayal, trauma, and surprise flights across the world. However, my quest is not a chronological three-act structure but a fractured narrative with a beginning I’m not ready to reveal.

The important part for now is that I realized you can forgive and love those who hurt you when you find growth in the pain.

I was denying that growth—those cosmic strings. Then I met Brent and Michael in person, bringing our relationship behind screens into the real world where eyes bonded, glasses clinked, and Valencian diabetes-threatening drinks entered our stomachs—my empty stomach.

Just like with their writing, they filled me with advice and wanderlust, but seeing them in person brought back the elastic. Throughout the week, it pulled harder and harder until I discovered a lie that snapped me back to my quest.

I revised “Coping With Failure” to include my journey plans across Europe. This was when Mike Sowden recommended Happiness of Pursuit, and Elin Petronella became the mentor of this story.

Elin Petronella has been coaching me on how to find direction and make my writing business sustainable. Like me and some of you, her birthplace does not define her sense of home. That’s how I knew she saw me.

Do you long for something more? Is something blocking you from starting your quest? Can you sense that unhappiness can lead to new beginnings? Then I see you. Like any relationship or good story, my journey can be a mirror to discover something new in yourself.

Is it a hero’s journey? Or is it an artsy-slice-of-life-questionable-character-arc journey? I don’t know where I’ll end up, but I do know I’ll share everything I learn and experience along the way. And this, I hope, will help you.

Too often, I have seen complacency and comfort cause depression. We must step outside our comfort zone to grow and connect to the greatest truth—change. That growth often starts with acknowledging our dark side instead of hiding from it. It begins with connecting that pain to a greater purpose.

That’s why my stories and articles won’t just include travel tips like in “To Bus or Train Through Europe” but expand on travel therapy.

I’ve written and interviewed psychologists about culture-bound mental illnesses in the past:

I’ll dive deeper into culture-bound mental illnesses over the next few months, but thanks to Chris Guillebeau’s Happiness of Pursuit and Elin Petronella’s guidance, I know the most significant part of travel therapy is the quest.

Every quest requires a sacrifice and goal of some kind. I’ll reveal those in next week’s piece—the last article before I cross the first threshold and leave Castellon, Spain, to make my way through Eastern Europe and to the North of Sweden.

Born Without Borders is a reader-supported publication. Paid subscriptions give me the time to research, write, and deliver value to those who feel inexplicably foreign or are searching for ways to step outside their comfort zone.

You can also support this trip by doing what I’m doing to afford this trip—Home Exchange.

HomeExchange is an online platform that connects people from all over the world to exchange their homes without money (and taxes) changing hands. Plus, there’s a point system, so you don’t need to exchange homes at the same time.

If you want to use Home Exchange and support this journey simultaneously, you can use this link.

Born Without Borders will never be ridden with affiliates. I’m only including companies that I need for this journey, with or without a referral link.

Who is Nolan Yuma?

I'm a writer, educator, guiri, actor, older brother, ocean lover, irritable cabron, hot sauce enthusiast, third culture kid fascinated by cultural psychology—but mostly, I'm inescapably foreign. I was born in Santiago de Chile, took my first steps in Antwerp, Belgium, and grew up in British Columbia, Canada. And the moment I felt a deep sense of home in Vancouver, Canada, I ended up in Spain.

Want to know more?

As some of you know, I’m planning a journey through Europe to promote sustainable slow travel and its therapeutic effects.

… or maybe I’ll go insane (more insane?) and take a gas-guzzling flight back to Castellon, Spain.

No, I won’t. I’m too stubborn for that. Plus, feeling connected to our earth has gotten me through a lot lately. This is a quest to heal, not destroy.

Flying unnecessarily would be like blowing cigarette smoke into my yoga instructor’s face. Driving would be blowing vape clouds into her face. Busing would be exhaling morning-after-drinking breath, and using the train would be like a Listerine-scented puff.

By the way, if you own some mouthwash company, I’ll gladly replace Listerine with your brand. Affiliates would help with this trip. Don’t like affiliates? Well…

Flying is tempting, though. It’s often cheaper than trains in Europe. Especially when you’re like me and fly to the south of Spain in the middle of summer wearing a snowboarding jacket stuffed with socks and underwear so you don’t have to pay Ryan Air’s ridiculous fees for a carry-on bag.

I would never affiliate with Ryan Air.

Yet, if you mix coaches, trains, Blablacar (a ride-sharing service), and electric moped/Vespa rentals (I found monthly rentals for as low as 114 €/month), semi-sustainable travel can be more affordable than flying.

If you’re a European resident, you can get an Interrail pass.

If you live outside of Europe, you can get a Eurail pass.

However, keep in mind that this is not all you’ll pay. You’ll also need to pay reservation fees up to € 50, although it’s often cheaper and not always necessary.

Plus, ferries aren’t included.

Here are some ferry prices I looked up for my trip.

Tallinn to Stockholm: Starting from 219 € with the 20% from Interrail.

Tallinn to Helsinki: 22-44 €

Gdnask to Nynashamn: 106 €

Gdnask to Karlskrona: 72-92 €

It’s also important to note that Interrail and Eurail don’t advertise certain deals in specific countries. For instance, in the past year, I have paid NOTHING for Renfe trains (not including the high-speed ones) in Spain. I pay for an Abono, which costs 10 €, and with that, I get unlimited train rides for four months. Plus, if I use it more than sixteen times, I get the €10 BACK!

Knowing all that, I also started looking at Flix Bus, which has connections all over Europe and even shows up on Google Maps when the train options are slower or non-existent.

Here are some of the Flix Bus prices I looked up for my trip.

Mont Pellier to Venice: 88 € - 160 €

Zagreb to Prague: 46 € - 89 €

Prague to Krakow: 10 € - 45 €

The prices varied quite a bit, just like with trains. If I were to do the opposite of slow travel and hop from destination to destination to take an Instagram pic and do a city instead of experience a city, the continuous Interrail pass would be the best. But that’s not my goal.

Although I like to plan as a guideline and make things as inexpensive as possible, the benefits of slow travel come from tapping into the constant flux of the universe. Sure, I’ll have to rush and overnight in a few cities, but the idea is to spend time, work, and live—this isn’t a holiday.

It’s about experiencing the people, not checking places off a list. To do that, I need to be open to changing my plans, whether hopping on a train, bus, Blablacar, Vespa, bicycle, horse, donkey, or hitching a ride in what would hopefully be a full car.

That’s why I’m a planster, which I’ll explain in my next post.

Thank you for being here. Together, we can grow a community for the inescapably foreign.

You can also support this trip by doing what I’m doing to afford this trip—Home Exchange.

HomeExchange is an online platform that connects people from all over the world to exchange their homes without money (and taxes) changing hands. Plus, there’s a point system, so you don’t need to exchange homes at the same time.

If you want to use Home Exchange and support this journey simultaneously, you can use this link.

Born Without Borders will never be ridden with affiliates. I’m only including companies that I need for this journey, with or without a referral link.

Stick around.

What’s your favourite mode of transport?

Which countries do you want me to visit?

And here’s the big question—Can I stay with you? I bring food, beer, nomadic workout equipment, and love.

One measure of humanity’s progress is more leisure time. Unfortunately, many use it to consume or ‘be productive’ instead of play. 

Throughout my adult life, I devoted most of my free time to my creative goals, whether acting, writing, or, dare I say it, ‘creating content.’ The time spent writing what poured out of me, puzzling together plots, filming skits, brainstorming with friends y los voces en mi cabeza, researching what I loved, and networking (the genuine kind) felt like play.

The time I spent on social media and doing what I was told sold felt like work. I said to myself if I didn’t put in this work, then doing what I loved would never pay the bills.

I goggined my life before David Goggins became a verb. This was a time before bro-science professor Andrew Huberman said doing s**t we don’t like builds the anterior midcingulate cortex for willpower, and Goggins told us that the thing you feel is missing in your life is found “in the suck,” not some “catch-phrase b******t.”

True. You find yourself in times of hardship, not comfort. But after twelve years of pushing through “the suck,” the wolves smelled my desperation and capitalized on my passion.

Instead of giving up, I decided to go all out with Substack. Rather than spending most of my time on paid work (teaching, personal training, promoting products, and whatever gig economy stint came my way), I treated Substack like a job.

I needed to put 40+ hours a week into Born Without Borders, or I’d fire myself (I haven’t quite figured out what that means either.) I churned out two articles a week, read, networked, and implemented all the strategies that seemed authentic to my project.

I believed that ‘plan a’ works better when there’s no ‘plan b.’ Now I’m broke and must find stable work. Es lo que hay—this isn't me complaining about working more. Voy a trabajar less.

Work has caused me to spend more money than I made, burn out, and limit my growth. Sure, pushing through “the suck” helped me find who I am and what I want. Ironically, that’s a scholar who wants to play.

“Scholar” comes from the Latin “schola,” meaning leisure devoted to learning. I fell for the idea that I needed to grind it out so people would pay for what I created.

I’ve learned a lot about how to succeed on Substack from by, , by , and of course, , , and , who have gone the extra mile to share what they know with me.

I also wouldn’t have made it this far without Switter’s World, Chen Rafaeli, Justin S. Bailey, Harvey Hamer, Mmerikani (Swahili, English), JD Goulet, Paul Moxness, Bowen Dwelle, Kat River, Jonny Bates, Ali Manoogian, Renée Eli, Ph.D, Lloyd Miner, Noha Beshir, Logan Thorneloe, Sam Colt, Michael Edward, Laura Lin, Alex Dobrenko`, Ranjit K Sharma, Junot Díaz, Dean Foster, Lisa Rogers, Danu, M.M. McGuire, James Don BlueWolf, Summer Suleiman, Joseph Lim, Ian Coulls, Expat in Portugal, Lorraine Tilbury, Samuel Lopez-Barrantes, neena maiya, M. E. Rothwell, Nishant Jain, Andy Adams, Priya Iyer, Samantha Childress, Alexander M Crow, Amrita Roy, , Alison Acheson, Monica Nastase, Ann Wolter, Bruce Joffe, Sam Briggs from , Michie O'Day, Kimberly Anne, ,Louise Haynes, Aimee Liu, Frank Janssens, family members who prefer to remain nameless, and all of you who subscribe to my newsletter.

But right now, I’m lost.

I started for nomads, immigrants, third-culture kids, and everyone else who feels inescapably foreign. Es para todos quien quieren salir de las fronteras que impone su mente. 

Like my art, my life is a constant journey where I say yes to everything and then roll with the punches. But after twelve years of failure, the vision that my unrealistic narrative will one day materialize is starting to dwindle.

When I started the Forever Foreign series, crafting my parents’ life stories into the written word felt like my last resort—the book that would finally propel my career.

My parents got married after six dates, wandered amid CIA shadows and sticky red tape, celebrated with the Sandanistas, dwelled on a monkey-ridden island with a beat-loving recluse, rose to the top of Tenerife’s tourist sector, dodged the draft, smuggled—

The adventures were endless, but it took cancer for my father to commit to the stories I’ve begged him to pen throughout my life. The time we spent talking and writing while an ocean apart meant more than any career or financial-related goal I had, but the lack of success took its toll on us.

Sometimes, trying to capitalize on stories kills their soul.

My next post, “Sperm on the Rocks,” will be the final chapter, so those who have followed the stories from the beginning will experience the cyclical narrative I planned. Initially, this story was supposed to come in three months (and three countries) later, but pushing through was destroying what I love.

Maybe I’ll return to my parents' stories but through my voice and experience. In a time of AI, I believe art must be more personal than ever. ChatGPT can imitate and edit my words but can’t play with my imperfections and contradictions as you and I can.

I will keep writing from this sense of play because it’s the only way I know to live with meaning in this world. But until becomes more sustainable, I can’t guarantee two articles a week anymore. If you want to support this, paid subscriptions give me the time to write my best words. They allow me to write outside our borders.

I’ve created a few polls to help me find direction, but art can’t always be categorized into a few questions, so please let me know what you think in the comments.

I appreciate todo tu ayuda.

Here’s the big question.

Are you interested in reading about a cross-continent (Europe) fitness challenge trip that supports sustainable slow travel and a more borderless world?

In the past months, I’ve put my job and writing aside to support the person I thought I’d marry. Turns out, I was cheated on and manipulated throughout the relationship. Was it trauma, mental health, pure selfishness, our culture’s push for individualism, religious background, influencer love gurus, or a combination of them all?

Why did I forgive so much? How come I couldn’t set boundaries? Why am I still madly in love? Am I a masochist? Did I enmesh the relationship? I will investigate and process this by interviewing people I meet along the way.

The only way to keep hate out of my heart is to turn the pain into something creative I can grow from and help others with.

I’m now selling most of my belongings and renting out my apartment so I can heal through travel, writing, and the only measure I’ve ever had control over, fitness.

I guess I haven’t let go of goggining my life.

So, I plan to either a.) hike and transit from Spain to Sweden while completing various fitness challenges and interviewing people about mental health or b.) Bike from Spain to Sweden while completing various fitness challenges and interviewing people about mental health.

The style, structure, and content of my writing will largely depend on how you answered the other questions.

Most importantly, let’s collaborate!

Now that I’m not tied down to a schedule, I have time for many more collaborations. So please reach out to me if you want to write, podcast, film, act and create together.

Why live without borders?

For this episode, the season one finale, that’s what I’m exploring. 

If this is your first time tuning into the show, my name is Nolan Yuma Janssens. I was born in Chile, took my first steps in Belgium, and the second I felt a deep sense of home in Canada, I ended up in Spain. 

I am

inescapably foreign. 

Over the past eight months, I have interviewed people from all over the world. People with clashing ideologies that have resulted in culture wars and actual wars. Christians, Muslims, capitalists, communists, gays, straights, beliebers, receivers, anarchists, and masochists. Black, brown, yellow, white.

Labels. 

Whereas they help us categorise and describe, all they really do is conquer and divide. 

Like ecosystems, the more diverse our society and people, the more resistant we are to disease and whatever the universe throws at us… except maybe bureaucracy: where the simple becomes complicated and where common sense goes to die… slowly.

Anyway. Unity, not uniformity. 

Some of my guests had very different opinions and ideas than my own. Some don’t support gay marriage, think communism works, like guns, and some don’t even like beer. How the hell did I get along with these people?

I focused on what makes us human. 

Curiosity. And travel is curiosity manifested through movement. 

Our bipedalism, large brains, dextrous hands, and speech help to explain our ability to travel to more places than any other animal on earth. We are designed to be curious travellers. It all started with our ability to stand up straight, scan the horizons, and seek more food, shelter, people, and information.

By focusing on what unifies us — curiosity, travel, and our love of culture — I learned something from every one of my guests. 

I listened. But listening does nothing without reflection, just like travel does nothing without stillness. And a bureaucrat does nothing… does nothing. 

So why live a life without borders? 

I started this podcast hoping to break down borders. Not all borders. I know they play a role in preserving linguistic heritage, culture, and providing jobs for people who work from 9 to 5, but get home by 2. 

I think you know who I’m referring to by now. 

Anyway. What I mean by a world without borders is a world without the walls of anger, hatred, and ignorance that separates us. That’s what I mean by “Without Borders.” 

At first, I thought that meant being a “global citizen” because problems like climate change, poverty, inequality, famine, war, and the popularity of Reggaeton are global problems that take a global mindset to solve.

But upon further reflection, I realised the term “global citizen” has become an ideology in itself. Many who — and here comes that ugly word — ‘label’ themselves as global citizens believe their way of thinking is good for others, and as Alan Watts pointed out, believing you’re doing good for others is full of conceit.

A world full of virtuous global citizens running around?

That doesn’t sound diverse. That sounds like uniformity, not unity. It sounds like the road to hell paved with good intentions. 

So I’m not trying to galvanise a movement of travellers or “Global Citizens.” I’m just trying to be part of a balance of stories. Stories that don’t push one ideology over another. Stories that show we’re a diverse species of primates just trying to figure ourselves out. 

As I mentioned at the beginning, this is the season one finale, but it might be the end of the Without Borders podcast. If you enjoyed this podcast, please share your favourite episodes and spread the word. I’m here to listen to your feedback, collaborate, and support projects, but I can’t sustain the hours I put into creating and marketing this podcast if people don’t support the show at bornwithoutborders.substack.com.

I do this because I know we need a balance of stories. I believe that when diverse voices reach a broader public, we can begin to increase rational compassion. 

Thanks to everyone who came on the show and took the time out of their day to listen. 

And if you happen to be a bureaucrat. I’m sorry for all the jokes and I hope you enjoyed listening to this during your work hours. 

Nolan speaks with Chantal Patton from  @GrowingUpWithoutBorders  Chantal reveals what it’s like trying to travel to every country in the world while homeschooling three kids. Nolan and Chantal also discuss school systems around the world, cultural variations, why Home Exchange kicks ass, and of course, why both their projects have the words “Without Borders.”

Support the show

Growing Up Without Borders Website and Courses

Transcript available for English learners.

00:00 Introduction

01:33 - Visiting every country with 3 kids

09:31 - Generalising vs learning about cultures 

20:28 - Homeschooling & School systems around the world

38:39 - Cultural variations within Canada, the USA, and New Zealand

41:22 - Airbnb & hotels vs Home Exchange 

47:04 - Growing Up Without Borders Courses & digital nomad tips 

53:49 - Why “Without Borders?” 

56:18 - Check your “Geographical privilege.”

In this episode, we explore the role of educators in a world with artificial intelligence. Discover how teachers adapt and navigate an AI revolution. Katie and Nolan also share tips about how to learn languages and adapt motivation techniques depending on the culture and learning style.

Watch the video here.

Support the show, read the transcript, and learn more at:

You can also learn more about Abridge Academy.

00:00 - Learning Chinese & Acculturating to China 

17:23 - A reacher’s role in a world of AI 

25:00 - Culture-bound motivation styles 

33:45 - Acculturating to Japan 

40:15 - How language shapes our perception