When nothing goes right, go left.


In August 2016 I made two decisions. You know, those really big, really scary life decisions. One of them was to start this blog.

I love writing. To me it’s a great self-therapy, even if my grammar isn’t always up to par (sorry about that by the way).

The name of my blog comes from the simple fact that I always get lost. Always. At first it wasn’t my intention, I’d just be using my map and think I knew where I was and then suddenly didn’t anymore.

My best trip so far in that respect was in Beijing. On the little tourist map I had I managed to walk out one side of it and, without ever getting back on a road from the map, came back in from the other side. I still have no idea where I walked, but I got a great ice green tea on the way.

Since then I make it a point to get lost in every city I go, even if it’s a bit hard because the cities are too small.

And if you’re worried about how it will turn out, just remember that cabs and phones with GPS exist.


The Writer of Losing Maps:


I’m Carys, 24 years old and a former student.

For now my home is in Switzerland, but I’m working on changing that.

I’ve traveled ever since I was born, but I don’t remember my earlier adventures. I’ve slowly been making my way over the world, taking in as much as I can while spending as much time as I can spare in one place. So far I’ve reached 24 countries on 4 continents.

The dream I’m working towards is being a digital nomad and this blog is the first step. I have a few more steps to take and skills to learn, but I’ll get there.

My most recent trip was with carry-on baggage only and I can safely say I’m in love with it. Trust me, it’s possible to flashpack and still have that little luggage, although the curling iron might have to stay home.

My story:

After studying chemistry for two years at university, I did another trip. It was meant to be a change of scenery for just a month, to clear my head before going back.

While on that trip I realized that I hate it. I completely and utterly cannot stand being a student. The thought of going home was met with complete and utter terror on my side. Eventually I forced myself to fly back, but I knew I wouldn’t go back to uni.

I had pushed myself as far as I could possibly go there, and it wasn’t enough.

And that’s okay.

I have no idea if working in that field would have better than studying it. I didn’t stick it out long enough to find out.

My family has always been a bunch of travelers and I’ve always felt more at home on the road than off it, so it formed itself into my dream. My dream was always to work wherever I wanted while seeing the world.

Getting to know an area would be very useful for someone like me, because my tendency to get lost is staggering.


But I had no idea how to get there.

Scouring the internet I found a blog about wokring in a wild cat reserve in South Africa. Which sounded great to do, but you need a drivers licence for that.

Guess what I don’t have.

Looking for more stuff to read, I stumbled upon a volunteering program. in Shark conservation. Everyone knows they’re in desperate need of protection and the thought of being able to actively do something in changing the world is very tempting.

Maybe my love for diving and passion about sharks had something to do with it. Maybe.

Three weeks later I landed in Fiji and (literally) dove head first into my next adventure. Naturally I went for an entire year (again). Why not go all in after all?

Bye for now,

your Carys

Check out my series about me working in Mongolia for a year as an English teacher. I’m including loads of stories, but also tips and my top places to go.