When I returned home from my first trip to Europe in January 2022, after visiting seven countries the year before, I felt an undeniable shift in my perspective. The world suddenly seemed both vast and accessible, and I was hooked. I remember standing at the airport, luggage in hand, overwhelmed with the sense that I had just touched something life-changing. It wasn’t just the places I had visited or the adventures I’d experienced—it was the profound way travel had reshaped how I viewed the world and, more importantly, myself.
I had always been someone who dreamed big, but this felt different. Travel wasn’t merely an escape or a hobby—it was a calling, one I was determined to answer. The idea of packing up my apartment in Los Angeles, leaving behind everything I knew, and setting off on a journey with no clear end date was both terrifying and exhilarating. I was ready to dive in headfirst. And that’s when Wander’n was born.
The concept was simple: to showcase the world authentically, through an unbiased lens, with minimal dialogue. I didn’t want to create a typical travel show full of clichés or perfect moments. I wanted to capture the raw beauty of the world, the untold stories of the people I met, and the unspoken experiences that make travel so transformative. It was my way of giving back—offering others a window into the world from a perspective they might not otherwise see.
I threw myself into every aspect of Wander’n—designing logos, brainstorming concepts, and sketching out the vision. I poured hours into making the show feel as personal and genuine as possible. When I finally began uploading videos, I felt a spark of hope. The feedback was incredible. People from all over the world shared how much they loved seeing places they’d never been or learning about experiences they hadn’t considered. Some commented, “I’m living through you,” or “I now know what this place is because of you.” My favorite message was simple: “Keep going.” It reminded me that I was making an impact, that my dream was becoming something real.
But despite the positive feedback, Wander’n faced significant challenges. Creating content, finding a rhythm, and building an audience proved to be harder than I imagined. There were days when it felt like I was pouring everything I had—emotionally, physically, financially—into the show, only to see little return. But I refused to give up. There was no other option. The thought of returning to a “normal” life felt like failure, and I wasn’t ready to accept that. So I pressed on, fueled by the belief that with enough time and effort, something would click.
I traveled to 29 countries, each one marking a new chapter in my journey. I met extraordinary people—locals and fellow travelers alike. I heard their stories, shared meals with them, and connected in ways I hadn’t expected. These moments became the heart of Wander’n. Yet, as I pushed further into the project, the harsh reality began to set in. Wander’n wasn’t growing the way I had envisioned. I reached out to travel companies, influencers, and brands, hoping to secure partnerships that would elevate the show, but nothing materialized. The silence from potential collaborators was deafening.
It was crushing. What had started as a passion project had become my life. The dream of becoming a full-time traveler and creator seemed to be slipping away, and with it, the very sense of self I had built around it.
Now, I’m faced with the harsh reality of returning home and searching for a job. (Which, honestly, isn’t going well either.) It breaks my heart. I’ve never wanted something to work more than I wanted Wander’n to succeed, and seeing that it hasn’t, while knowing I have to let go, is overwhelming.
But as I sit here, trying to make sense of everything, I realize that perhaps failure isn’t the end of the story. Maybe it’s just a chapter I didn’t expect—a necessary pause that forces you to reassess, to breathe, and to reimagine what’s next.
Wander’n didn’t become the global sensation I had hoped for, but it’s not a wasted journey. The people I met, the lessons I learned, and the moments that took my breath away—those will stay with me long after the cameras are off. And as for the future? I don’t know exactly what it holds. The world is still vast and accessible, and that sense of possibility hasn’t faded. It’s just waiting for me to find the next path.
But before I move forward, I want to ask: How do you move past failure when things don’t turn out as planned?
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