Reflecting on My 2-Week Self-Discovery Journey to France
It was booked on a whim. I was at a point in my life when I felt my lowest—when I learned that even bright, sunny days could seem bleak and dreary. I was filled with mixed emotions: questions of self-worth, doubt, and feelings of helplessness.
I tried many ways to seek calm and peace of mind. There were moments when I wondered if I should just give up—but something deep inside me never allowed that. And that became a constant internal battle—between what I value and what I needed to do just to keep my head above water.
Perhaps that’s what drew me to Van Gogh. I still remember my first visit to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam two years ago, walking out of the gallery completely inconsolable. It wasn’t the “art” itself, per se—but his life. His journey with art, with people, with places. How all of that amalgamated into what became his identity.
What stood out most to me was how deeply aware he was of his own state of mind, and yet he never gave up on his art or what he valued. I often wonder how he managed to contain all of those emotions while continuing to create. That paradox—his torment and his persistence—moved me greatly.
So I decided: I was to do pilgrimage to France! I wanted to see through his lens. I planned to walk in his footsteps, starting in Paris and moving to Auvers-sur-Oise, then heading south through Avignon to Arles. I would end the journey back in Paris, returning north via Lyon and Dijon.
It turned out to be one of the most memorable journeys of my life. I thought it best to document each city in a series of blog posts—which you, dear reader, can look forward to in the coming weeks!
I’ve changed. In the past, I always had a schedule—a checklist that I followed to a tee. My past travel itineraries, from half a decade ago, were filled out well in advance. But now, as I learn to manage expectations and simply go with the flow, I’ve realized that walking the unbeaten path often leads to strange and beautiful discoveries. (Though of course, I still have moments where I kick myself and mutter, “Why, Steph? Why did you put yourself through this?!”—as you’ll see in my upcoming post about Arles.)
Looking back, it amazes me how our experiences truly shape us. I never gave it much thought when I booked the flight. At the time, I was just desperate for relief from the emotional weight I was carrying. But when I told friends and family about my solo trip, they were in awe that I had done it alone—while I thought of it as completely normal.
That, in itself, gave me a new realisation: that personal growth, even when unseen, should never be taken for granted. I’m grateful for the opportunity, for the kindness shown to me during those two weeks, and for the patience and care from my husband and family while I was some 6,000 miles away. Not everyone gets the chance—or the health—to be in that place at that time. And for that, I am truly thankful.
If I could sum up those two weeks: it had its ups and downs (quite literally!), but to me, it was almost perfect. I met wonderful people who showed me incredible kindness. I ate way too many baguettes (even my French friends were shocked!). I ticked off whatever random checkboxes I had on my to-do list—and the list kept growing by the day. And I felt waves of inspiration as I followed Van Gogh’s footsteps—something I never knew one could feel when people talk about “artistic flow.”
But more importantly—what did I learn after this journey?
- I rediscovered my values, and what truly matters most to me.
- I came to terms with what causes me pain, and what can spiral me downward.
- I stopped chasing. I learned to pause, to absorb, and to grow.
- I came to terms with the idea that when the time is right, I want to be ready—come what may.
- And I reaffirmed that I will always strive to be my most authentic self: true to my values, rooted, and unshaken.
I wish I could have realized all this sooner. But perhaps I wouldn’t have—if I hadn’t been given the opportunity to live through the challenges, survive them, and grow.
Some snippets of my memories…
Stephanie Loo 