Why some places feel like home even when you’ve never been there before — I’m walking down a narrow street. Everything is new. Nobody knows me here. After a moment I remind myself that it would be strange if it were any different — I’ve just arrived on the other side of the world. I sit down in a café. I watch the people. They’re different — and appearance is the smallest difference. The energy radiating from this society hits me like a slap in the face the moment I arrive.
And at the same time I feel something deeply familiar in them. Something very close to myself. Something that makes this place land somewhere deep inside me — strikes like lightning. I feel it. I really feel it.
This is Perth. Western Australia.
Happiness doesn’t depend on place. But the atmosphere of certain places can resonate with us so strongly that we feel lighter — our energy lifts, being ourselves comes easier.
Something different for everyone. For one person it’s an island. For another a city. But not every place — obviously.
I wasn’t aware of how differently places could resonate until I left Europe. Asia and Australia turned out to be a mix of completely different climates, people, and atmospheres. I used to think I dreamed of life on a tropical island — while the greatest flow and energy I’ve ever felt came from cities. Places I arrived at without a plan. And I learned a lot about myself because of that.
Perth, Australia
A place where people are here and now. They don’t analyze what was or what will be. And that remarkable, unperformed confidence — visible in their eyes and the way they talk.
Many people asked me what I saw there. And honestly — I wasn’t very interested in sightseeing. The most valuable experience for me was sitting in a café and watching the general atmosphere and the people.
I also attended one meeting of an organization there. And what I noticed — comparing its members from different countries — was that Australians have a very healthy approach to relationships.
Around 20 people came up to me to ask where I was from — which showed openness. But at the same time I wasn’t immediately drowned in hugs and sweetness the way often happens among members of similar groups in other countries.
They were open. They asked questions. And I immediately felt that their way of building relationships suited me. It’s not flooding you with love without basis — it’s openness and a desire for connection. But closeness comes at a healthy pace. It has real foundations. It’s a genuine signal of — I know you and I appreciate you — so I want to be closer. They don’t give that to every newly met person just like that.
Of course I’m not saying everyone there is like this — but I shared these observations with a few friends who know the culture, and they confirmed it’s a noticeable tendency.
I knew it was a place I’d want to come back to for longer — to integrate with that energy. But it’s also a place that requires more time for real connections and getting embedded in the social fabric. I think even three months might not be enough to build the kind of lasting relationships visible there — to be known and accepted into someone’s circle.
Hong Kong
And then there’s the city where day one was a complete challenge. Cold. Everything delayed. Work topics piling up. Not even a normal space to sit with a laptop.
And yet — within that same day — I knew it was the place I’d come back to first.
Full story here: My Worst Day in Hong Kong Became My Best-link
The energy, the lightness, the multiculturalism in Hong Kong — it’s all there. From breathtaking views over the harbor to hidden clubs and bars buzzing with warmth and freedom.
One of the most expensive cities in the world — don’t hold that against it — I actually consider it an advantage. Precisely because of that, it attracts incredibly interesting people from all over the world. Business, tourism — but it’s not a digital nomad city, simply because it’s not financially viable for that. People come for days, weeks, occasionally years. During the day — skyscrapers, pace, density. In the evening — those same people go to a good club to reset, shift business meetings to a lighter backdrop.
A place where people are used to making connections, going for a quick coffee, casual networking.
And most importantly — they come here with a specific purpose. They usually have broad knowledge of the world, markets, and perspectives.
In this city I set myself a goal: have one genuinely interesting conversation with a completely random stranger within an hour. It turned out not to be a challenge at all.
I go out for a casual beer — a stranger immediately invites me to their table.
I have dinner at my hotel — within minutes of conversation I’m handed a business card by the head of marketing for Asia. Coffee whenever you’re free.
I walk along the promenade late at night to enjoy the view across the water — I meet a Nepali woman who has broken free from much of her own culture but shares fascinating things about spirituality and the connection between people and nature in the mountains there.
Hong Kong is almost the entire world in one place. Some people love it. Others find it overwhelming. I fell in love with it.
Most people travel to see places.
But the places that stay with you — the ones that feel like coming home even when you’ve never been there before — they don’t show you the world.
They show you yourself.
Pay attention to where you feel most alive. It’s telling you something.
