In case you were wondering, I’m still in Brazil, savouring every bite of Salvador. After Barra and Pituba, I moved to Ondina last Friday—this neighbourhood is basically next door to Barra.

This is not the first time I decide to stay in the same city for a few weeks. Santiago, for instance, mostly because it was comfortable, sunny, and I was still a solo traveller rookie. Feng and I overstayed in Buenos Aires and Sydney a few times as well because again, it was comfortable, sunny, and cheap (don’t try it with Sydney, it’s no longer cheap!).  

Such a decision is always a gamble because some cities are best appreciated through the eyes of someone who is just here to enjoy the sights and the magic without ever having to deal with the behind-the-stage downsides—looking at you, Rio de Janeiro and Paris.

Initially, I wasn’t actually planning to spend the rest of the trip in Salvador but I didn’t really have a plan either. And when I started to plan for real, during Carnival in Rio, I realized once again that the State of Bahia is a country within a country—it’s geographically hard to get around because the Bay of All Saints is huge. It takes about nine hours to get to Ilheus, the next big city south, and I wasn’t sure it was worth it. I was considering going to the Morro de São Paulo except that the two-hour boat trip is notoriously rough and Airbnb choices were either expensive or had terrible reviews. Other options were mostly small towns where both transportation and accommodation were a challenge, especially for me alone, without a car.

At one point, I decided I was happy with spending three weeks in Salvador. This year, we spent Christmas and New Year in Mexico, then in Brazil, I stopped in São Paulo, Fortaleza, Natal, João Pessoa, Recife, Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo again, Maceió and Aracaju—I didn’t feel the urge to add more cities to my list just for the sake of it.

Salvador it was.

Until one night, a couple of weeks ago, when I freaked out in Aracaju.

Like most grownups, I make thousands of decisions every day. Most are inconsequential—what to eat for dinner, which assignment to tackle first, whether I should cook then take a shower or the other way around. But a few decisions actually matter, especially if there’s some kind of commitment or responsibility attached to them. This is where it’s tricky. I’m rarely indecisive and I’m usually happy to take a chance, plus I’m not a big fan of uncertainties. However, at the last minute, when it’s time for whatever I decided to happen, I often feel the urge to run the other way.

In fact, I rarely back off and change my mind at the last minute. Once the decision is made, I don’t look back. I tend to keep a cool head when it’s time to navigate situations as they happen and problem-solving doesn’t scare me.

However, I spend a lot of time worrying beforehand. Worrying about what, exactly? I’m not even sure myself. Mostly everything. I think I have a hard time picturing change. I embrace it when it happens, I’m adaptable. I just don’t know how to prepare myself to change—is it even possible?

Basically, I need to jump into the unknown, not walk slowly toward it.

And that night, in Aracaju, I was trying to picture spending three weeks in Salvador, which was a terrible mistake. Not the three weeks, the whole picturing exercise.

“The fuck did I decide to go to Salvador? What the hell am I going to do if it’s raining every day? And it’s the beginning of the rainy season! Salvador is rough! I… I don’t have the energy to figure it out all by myself.”

I was tired, sweaty and hungry. I had just killed a couple of cockroaches. The idea to arrive in yet another city, once again late in the evening and alone, felt overwhelming.

A quick check on both local weather in the northern hemisphere (temperature of my fridge) and the cost of changing my plane ticket date (two million dollars plus fees and taxes) helped me calm down a bit.

Then Feng called me, not because he somehow felt I was freaking out but because it was 10 p.m., our regular daily chat time. I told him I was scared. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied—not exactly helpful but actually, kind of, because this is our typical routine, I worry and he tells me I shouldn’t worry and/or I should get a good night’s sleep.

And then here I am, in Salvador, loving it.

So I’m glad I jumped into the unknown and fought the urge to run the other way.

Taking a chance is often better than just doing nothing.