I'm standing behind the yellow line of platform 2, watching the OBB nightjet train pull away.
It feels like a slice of my heart is leaving with it. My teenage son, Karsten, is traveling solo in wagon 417, bound for a scholarship program in northern Germany. Watching him go washes a tidal wave of emotion over my mind; he’s setting off on his own adventure.
Through the blurred glass, I see him wave—a confident smile on his handsome face. I’m not sure if my eyes are watering from parental pride or parental anxiety, but I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“He’s going to be okay,” I remind myself. “Just like I was.”
Back to 2004: A Young Traveler’s Calling
In a flash, I’m transported back to Kampala, in 2004. I am twenty years old, with a desire inside me, to make a difference. The devastating tsunami had just hit Asia, displacing thousands and killing scores more. I feel an urgent call to go—go somewhere, do something. My father had raised me across Thailand, India, and the Philippines, always teaching me to live with purpose.
Suddenly, getting to Sri Lanka becomes my purpose.
I travel to Colombo powered by the kindness of strangers and friends who support my goals. But when I arrive, I'm overwhelmed by the reality of the destruction. Over 35,000 lives lost in Sri Lanka alone. Camps for displaced families, overflowing. I feel useless, questioning what impact I could possibly have.
At one of the makeshift camps, three young girls lead me to a tent and offer me a steaming cup of black tea.
"You drink!" the eldest says in perfect English, her face breaking into a smile. In the midst of disaster, they embody pure hospitality. I take a photo to capture the sparkle in their eyes, vowing to never forget this moment.
Reimagining Purpose
But here I am. Unskilled in medicine, don’t speak the language, and have nothing material to offer. Only a heart full of hope. And so I use the few skills I do have—drawing, playing with the kids, and writing. I spend the only thing of value I own: TIME, with the children.
Together, we create moments of laughter and distraction from the chaos around.
Writing becomes my anchor, too. I pour my experiences and feelings into words, they spill out onto the blank page, and when I find an internet cafe, I send updates to my friends and network back home.
I have no answers; only descriptions of desolation.
"There is destruction everywhere," I write, "Palm trees strewn like fallen matchsticks on every beach. Rubble, rocks in heaps...I can only imagine the strips of restaurants and cafes that once stood in this spot."
The gravity of a natural disaster is a weight I am not prepared to carry. I'll be gone in a couple of weeks, but those children are orphaned forever.
I pour my grief into poetry...I keep writing, rhyming, stanzas that spin in my mind.
How can we know what lies beyond, How can we know their sorrows deep, Till we have walked the paths they trod— Till we have slept where they do weep?
As night falls and stars fill the sky, I wonder if I’d made any difference at all.
A New Chapter in Manila
Back home in the Philippines, life presents new challenges. My family struggles, and as the eldest child, I feel a duty to help.
The next chapter evolves with a twist of fate. During an evening steeped in jazz classics, I find myself introduced to an unusual opportunity—a job opening for travel writers. It sounds ideal, but as all dream jobs go, I imagine they’re looking for candidates with degrees, polished résumés, and formal credentials.
And I have none of those. What I do have is a collection of real-life stories, each one vivid and raw. When the producer agrees to meet, I bring along a stash of analog photographs—snapshots of places, people, and moments that have shaped me. He leafs through the images quietly, studying faces and landscapes.
After a few minutes, he looks up and asks a single question.
“Are you willing to present on camera?”
And that’s how I accidentally become a travel TV host, exploring the beauty and diversity of Asia with the Living Asia Channel.
For the next five years, I roam with the crew across landscapes and cultures, from remote villages to industrial cities, meeting everyone from local fishermen to royalty. I experience life through the lens of my travel guides--I learn both foreign and local cuisines, cultures, and mannerisms. All a tapestry of deep experiences.
Documented moments expand my sense of wonder and deepen my respect for the people who share their lives with me. I also meet my future husband--but that's another story!
Much of the magic happens off-camera.
In unscripted conversations, chance encounters. Much of the time, I'll admit being lost in translation.
Caption: With Tita Myrna Pula of the T'boli tribe while filming in South Cotabato
The FunDaytion
But every Wednesday, I pass the crowded skyway towards Old Manila and find the pediatric wards of the Philippine General Hospital. Together with friends, we're creating "The FunDaytion," a small project with one mission:
"One Fun Day, to Last A Lifetime."
It is a way to gift happier days to children facing terminal illness. We don't dare promise cures or even hope for healing. We just try to create for them one unforgettable day—a trip to the zoo, a night at the circus, an afternoon at a chocolate buffet. A morning when their mothers can get a free haircut by the country's top stylists...
It’s a small dream made possible by the kindness of sponsors and friends, who understand that these wishes can mean everything to the kids. With each “fun day,” I feel as if those kids give something back to my heart as well:
The courage to journey through life just one more day.
Photo above: At the Manila Zoo with my friends
Returning to the Present: A Journey Continues
The number 417 Nightjet carriage vanishes, with my son, Karsten. At just 14 years old, he's crossing continents as I once did, discovering what makes him feel alive. He'll learn from others, pursue his own path, and be perfectly fine.
I return to my home studio, switching on the audio equipment--a Focusrite interface and Neumann microphone that now connects me to listeners worldwide. These days, I travel with my voice, producing audio sleep stories and relaxation journeys for audiences on The Daily Mindset and other platforms.
Checking my production schedule, the episode I’m about to record for The Daily Mindset is also number 417. It feels serendipitous, and I smile.
Photo Caption: Producing podcasts and audio meditations in Prague. When on the road, I carry portable recording devices or rent local studios to help me produce audio sleep stories and meditations.
In this small, soundproofed space, I embark on journeys powered by the imagination, but also by those raw and real memories.
Here, I meet listeners in a digital realm—and learn from travel companions and guides like the voice surgeons who join us on The Voice Box with the Union of European Phoniatricians.
Deadlines loom, but invisible soundwaves carry me to destinations my 20-year-old self could never have dreamed of.
And I am profoundly grateful to the creators, founders, and collaborators here on LinkedIn who have enabled my audio productions.
The Vehicle of Voice: Calmer Journeys
Travel writing found me when I felt most lost. And then led me back home. Now I continue this path of discovery, connecting to the world through the vehicle of voice.
I am awed by how wonderful things can unfold when we allow our minds, bodies, and hearts to align. When we give ourselves the grace to stay, to go, or to simply be.
And in that, we do find purpose, right where we are.
Thank you for reading my story and subscribing to my blog! In the coming posts, I’ll share more travel tales and insights, along with tips on finding a calmer, more grounded you—powered by the strength of your own voice.
Here’s to the journey ahead!
Until next time,
Nikki
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