
This blog will shut down and permanently move to my website end of January 2024!
I hope you’ll keep following me there. Best wishes to everyone!

This blog will shut down and permanently move to my website end of January 2024!
I hope you’ll keep following me there. Best wishes to everyone!

Traveling. That magical word. Those moments, surreal almost in their beauty and intensity once we return home and try to hold on to them in our thoughts. And then, of course, while on the road, there is this feeling of being intensely alive. I had missed especially this vividness when finally, after 2 years of not traveling long distances during the pandemic, I was able to set out again and explore. And, as every time when I set out, I was scared.
Over the years, I’ve lived and worked on several continents. In 11 countries. These were, in chronological order: Germany, USA, Switzerland, Maldives, Belgium, Macau, Canada, Hong Kong, Malta, the Caribbean, and France.
Each one of these home bases I settled into, I used as a hub from which I travelled extensively. I love exploring.
Yet, every single time I set off to go somewhere new, to venture into the unknown, I was afraid. Even terrified at times.
It was the realization that I was about to go out of my comfort zone, to stretch my limits. A leap of faith, both scary and invigorating.
It was also knowing that I was leaving my safe zone – Zurich, Switzerland – where I know from experience, I won’t be attacked as a transgender man.
Each time, leaving this safe haven added a whole other layer of anxiety for me. The fear of not being accepted… or worse of being in mortal danger as a trans individual. I knew, I’d be far more vulnerable at any new destination, due to my lack of local knowledge. Just think of emergencies, doctor’s visits, registrations at public offices, etc.
Now, being 52 years old, I’ve seen a large portion of our planet. I am by all means a seasoned traveler. But one thing hasn’t changed: I am still often anxious. Especially as I head out. That initial push of, “Yeah it’s scary as hell, but do it anyways. It’ll be worth it, and you’ll be fine.”
Like two months ago, when I took several planes to get from Switzerland to New Zealand. During my long stopover in Doha, I was acutely aware of their state-of-the-art full body scanners and wondered how much they really show or don’t show? Was it obvious to the security personnel that there is something missing between my legs?
As I then walked through the lush, green forest inside the recently built Doha terminal, I was in awe. But, at the same time, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. Because I knew I was in one of those places on Earth where I am not allowed to exist. Where I am considered an abomination. Would they kill me if they met me in a dark alley rather than in a busy airport terminal?
When the airplane took off towards Adelaide a few hours later, I was as relieved as a drowning man coming up to the surface for a breath of much needed air.
So, you see, wherever I go, it is hard for me to completely relax. And sometimes, depending on where I am, I can’t relax at all.
I transitioned in 1996, when I was 25. But even now, 27 years later, I still sometimes feel like a criminal on the run who could be detected at any moment. Someone not welcome, under the radar, living a life of false safety which can shatter at any time.
Thus, my nervous system is always on high alert.
When you meet me on the street, however, you’ll never know I’m transgender. I am very much the man I am – inside and also on the outside. I “pass” very well as they say.
On that note: I detest the use of the words “passing” and “presenting” in relation to how a transgender person is perceived by others. It’s actually outright disrespectful and invalidating. “Passing” and “presenting” make us sound as if we are pretending to be who we are rather than actually being exactly the person we say we are, no matter how that may look to others.
People I only meet briefly on the street or whilst running an errand will never know they’ve just met a transgender man.
And it is precisely those quick everyday encounters which make me wonder: Would they still appreciate me and treasure me if they knew I am transgender? Would I still be safe around them?
Far more acute, when I am traveling or working abroad, I often wonder things like: Will the doctors in the foreign hospital still treat me well when they find out my body isn’t quite like any other male body? If I get searched by police in a dark alley, will I come out of there alive? If I’m outed in a bar in the middle of nowhere, will I be attacked? Will the woman I’ve flirted with run away in disgust when she sees me the first time without my clothes?
Especially in the USA, the Middle East, and South America, hundreds of transgender individuals get killed every year on the street simply for being who they are. So, my worries are not unfounded. And much still needs to be done for this, our beautiful planet, to truly be an inclusive world.


Currently, I am traveling in Aotearoa, mesmerizingly beautiful New Zealand. On my own, in a camper van, catching up with friends, and attending a wedding along the way. I love this mix of meeting wonderful humans whilst at the same time being able to enjoy lots of quality alone-time. Just me and the breath-taking natural world all around me. In fact, I’m enjoying every moment. Laughing out loud in the van sometimes when the beauty of the world and the joy of being alive hits me full force.
What a contrast to how I felt in 2019, when I was so down, so tired of life, and of fighting to make it in this world, of longing to be loved, that I had to consciously avoid pharmacies, because I knew if I’d set foot inside one, I’d give in, buy a few hundred tablets and take them all in one go. I was so incredibly tired. And so defeated.
The three years since that awful time have been an odyssey during which I’ve gone from having lost almost my entire sense of self-worth and self-confidence to re-building myself yet again. This through finding the courage to look at all that had transpired with a hard, honest eye. To then, eventually, be able to say, “Life is beautiful and you deserve better.”
Even my identity as a trans man, which had taken me a painful twenty years to grow into with confidence, had been seriously shaken in its foundations. I had transitioned when I was 25, in 1996, when I finally understood that I had always been a boy, a man, inside. But it had taken me those two decades to be ok with my scars, to grow into my body, to feel confident in who I was, and to not feel apologetic about being trans anymore.
Then, a statement from a woman I had loved and trusted with all my heart – my now ex-wife – had been the beginning of our lives together and my sense of self unraveling. At first, it had just been one cruel statement. A statement, which still haunts me to this day. When she said to me after living together for 5 years, “Yes, I have an affair. And I don’t feel bad about it. I needed it. For the first time after 5 years I finally feel like a woman again.”
In that moment I felt like someone had detonated an atomic bomb in the room. And just like radiation, her words began eating away at me from the inside. This first statement and many others after about how I just wasn’t good enough, literally reduced me to ashes. And any Phoenix-like antics felt like a million light-years away from being possible.
I felt unseen, worthless, not enough, almost existence-less. And to make matters worse, hearing these thoughts from someone I had thought valued me triggered old traumata from way back. Traumata which were responsible for me not having a sound base to weather an assault like this in the first place.

I’m still overcoming. Growing back into my skin slowly. Learning to love myself again. At this point, I am still scared of ever falling in love again. Scared of ever kissing a woman again and holding each other. Still worried I might not be good enough for anyone. And scared of trusting someone so deeply ever again.
Thankfully, by now I also know that my heart and all the love I feel inside of it, all the love I’m able to give, are strong enough.
Strong enough to eventually help me overcome this feeling of ineptitude.
I will, eventually, embrace another person intimately again and allow myself to be embraced. Yet first I need to keep working on embracing and loving myself fully and unconditionally. I need to learn to show myself the same kindness, love, compassion, patience, and understanding that I always give so easily to others.
For the moment, I am learning to set better boundaries, prioritize my own needs, my own emotional, and mental health. I am looking at my entire life with an honesty and clarity greater and deeper than ever before. And I aim to grow, better myself.
Build an inner base so strong, I’ll be able to navigate all tides and currents around me, and within me, far better. Be vulnerable, yet also rest peacefully within myself.
Being on my current road trip around beautiful Aotearoa, I am amazed at being able to feel unbridled joy again. I’m amazed at how much I enjoy my own company. I speak to myself, and tell myself, “You’re alright.”
Millions of thoughts are going through my head. And I let them all in, allow them to stay for a moment. Because I am, in fact, alright enough for now. I can weather them.
And while I look inward, my eyes, my whole body and soul also look outward, to absorb the magnificent natural wonders all around me.
I’m saying hello to a new lease on life. A new chapter. A better me. Life is beautiful. And so profoundly worth living.


Spring in Zurich is a festival of colours. A banquet of flowers. Green leaves begin sprouting everywhere in a myriad of hues. The air feels lighter all of a sudden. Warm and fluid. Caressing your skin. Growth is everywhere. In the earth, the trees, the lakes, the rain, the skies… Every living thing around you awakens in a rich carpet of scents and visual abundance.

During the last few months, I didn’t get out much except for short walks around the neighbourhood. Work was intense, and the weather was just too grey and wet for me to want to go on big excursions.
However, as soon as spring kicked off here and the days got longer, warmer, drier, and sunnier, I took a week off to go where it was still cold, grey, and wet: to the fjords of Norway.
What brought me there initially was a concert by Ludovico Einaudi I just didn’t want to miss. Then, I figured why not leave Oslo straight away and head to the area around Bergen to explore some of the far larger fjords in the west of Norway a bit.
It turned out to be an amazing trip. Each fjord I visited was more beautiful than the one before it. Especially the Naeroyfjord, with a ferry trip from Gudvangen to Flam, was absolutely, mesmerizingly beautiful and invigorating. Even more so since the sun came out for most of the day, bathing everything in a crystal clear light, enhancing the hues of white and blue all around me to an eerie brilliance.
It was my first time ever traveling to Norway or the European North in general, and I’ll most definitely be back. For hikes, road trips, and boat cruises around even more fjords. And to explore other northern countries as well.
In addition to the landscape which was almost unreal in its beauty, I loved the general atmosphere in Norway. There was a distinct politeness, calm, and relaxedness which felt like blessed relief. Time seemed to slow down and whatever stress I felt still lingering from the months of working before soon vanished without a trace.
Everything seemed so easy, quiet, accessible, and open-minded. I never quite felt anything like it anywhere else during my abundant travels through many countries around the world. It was simply enchanting.

Another mountain lake and the, in this case, lucky occurrence of being woken up early by a busy road and construction site right next to where I had bunked for the night.
Lake Lucerne was majestic just after sunrise.
Crisp, cold air which demanded several layers of clothing. But each breath was invigorating. And nature’s color palette was a feast for the eyes. Soft edges at first. Then everything transformed, becoming crisper and clearer as the morning progressed.
As for the sunset… not bad… Not bad at all, either. Stood there with a glass of white wine in my hand, closing my eyes every so often to commit the magical moment to memory. Do you do that sometimes, too? Close your eyes when faced with something you never want to forget, so as to take a photograph with your soul? The eyelids become the shutters of your internal camera. And in that swift moment of closing your eyes, going inwards, you take a picture for eternity.


During 18 years of living in Switzerland, off and on, I didn’t explore much of the Swiss mountains. Essentially, I am not a mountain person, but rather love wide open spaces. I tend to get a bit claustrophobic in the mountains, between those high walls rising up all around me.
However, last year’s 1-month hike along the Swiss Jura trail and afterwards another month through several French mountain chains has highlighted the beauty of those mountain regions.

For this, my 3rd stint in Switzerland, the goal is to see more of this country’s beauty and explore far more.
A few days ago, I spent a couple days in Flims and was enchanted by Lake Cauma. In parts, the myriad shades of turquoise were almost as inviting as a tropical lagoon.
A friend and I spent a while just sitting there, at the water’s edge, gazing out over the lake, enjoying a rare moment of utter peace.


JoJo and I are still in Zurich and will – if all goes well – make this our long-term home base. At the moment, I’m dealing with a lot of bureaucracy and it is as of yet unsure if I’ll be allowed to remain in the country. All will depend on me finding a job, which – so far – is proving as much of a challenge as it was in France. However, I am confident that with every week I’ll get a little closer to a solution. And, hopefully, at one point soon, I’ll be delighted to hear someone say, “We’re interested in offering you a position.” Keep fingers crossed.
Other than working on applications, I have started studying remotely at university which brings me a lot of joy. I love learning new things. I am also still with one foot – or rather one ear – in Montpellier to keep studying Le Francais.
One thing that is wonderful about returning to Zurich is that it has helped me to bring things into perspective. It used to be my home. A place I felt comfortable in and always loved returning to. Then, a few years ago when I moved back for three years with my ex-partner, I didn’t feel comfortable anymore. I just wanted to get away. What I have come to realize now is that it wasn’t Zurich that bothered me. I was under a lot of pressure at the time, financially and emotionally, and somehow (to protect myself and my partner and to be able to go on) I had shifted all the blame to Zurich. Projected all that was weighing heavily on my shoulders to a place, rather than searching for the root cause.
Now that I am back, with the wisdom of hindsight, I understand that Zurich was never the problem. My life had just been difficult back then and the pressure I had been under had been too intense.
This is something I’ll need to remember. Major note to self: If I ever begin complaining too intensely about a place again, I’ll need to stop and ask myself the question: “Ok Liam, what is wrong in your life? What do you need to resolve?”
So, hello Zurich. Third time is the charm, they say. I still don’t like everything about you, but no place is ever entirely perfect. What is important is that I have that comfy feeling again, as if I have just found an old pair of shoes in a long-forgotten suitcase. And I’m slipping into those shoes ever so easy, wiggling my toes, feeling good, simply thinking “ahhhhhhh.”

In German, we have the word “Kopfkino”, which directly translated means “Head-Cinema”. And, admittedly, I had a lot of that before going back on the road. What if the cat won’t get over the border? What if I didn’t think of all the papers he needs? What if I won’t get over the border? What if strange, expat Germans are not welcome right now in Switzerland with all that is going on? What if JoJo and I will get separated? What if the roads in the mountains will be blocked by snow? etc.
I often take great risks and follow my instincts. Because of that, many people may think I am not aware of the risks. What they might not realize is I that worry a lot, I reflect a lot, and my mind is conjuring up more risks than actually exist. Every time. I am always nervous before making another bold move, always scared before beginning a new chapter. But, if my heart tells me it is the right path to take, then I’ll take it anyways. Every time. Hands shaking as I go. Most likely with a plan B, C, D, and E already brewing in my mind, in case disaster strikes.
This time, yet again, my “Kopfkino” was far worse than reality. My lovely, old, feline partner JoJo and I rented a car and embarked on a 9-hour roadtrip from Montpellier to Pontarlier. I set the GPS to “avoid all toll roads” which added 4 extra hours to our travel time. But it was so much more picturesque and relaxing. All went smoothly and JoJo, who had most likely never traveled in a car before, was surprisingly calm. He was curled up on the passenger seat for almost the entire trip. He watched my every move and head-bumped my right hand or shoulder for cuddles every now and then.

After Lyon, the landscape got ever more diverse. Soon, little sprinkles of snow could be seen as well, covering the landscape like a thin frosting on a rather large cake. It is beautiful how defined all lines in a landscape become when snow highlights all shapes and edges.
The closer we got to Pontarlier, the more JoJo and I entered into a winter wonderland. By that time, he was fast asleep and didn’t react to my continuous exclamations of “Uuuhhhh”, “Ahhhhh”, and “Wake up JoJo, you have to look at all this snow!”
We returned the car in Pontarlier, where two Swiss friends picked us up in their car. As we drove towards the border, I thought, “This is it. I hope we won’t get stopped.” We didn’t get stopped. In fact, both the French and Swiss border stations were closed and we just drove on through with no one bothering us at all. Et voilà, from one moment to the next my French street cat turned into a Swiss cat.
We spent the night in a romantic old farmhouse in the mountains. I was spoiled with cheese fondue and the good company of fabulous friends. JoJo was spoiled with tiny morsels of pâte. He was also very excited by the sound of little mouse feet within the walls of the ancient building. Overall, I was in awe of how Zen old JoJo was. When he wasn’t running after potential mice, he just looked at me with big eyes and purred.
Now we are back in Zurich. We have covered a distance – that had taken me two months on foot – in only one day by car. We found a beautiful new home with a friend who has space for both of us. Currently, JoJo and I are on the couch, breathing deeply. We are glad that at least the “roof over our heads” part of the equation is covered for now. The next few weeks will be devoted to an extensive job hunt (For me. JoJo gets to relax on the couch and gets to watch birds in the courtyard).
If I find employment in Zurich, if JoJo and I get to stay in the country for a longer while, much of my free time will be spent on shorter hikes, exploring the wonderful mountain landscapes of Switzerland. Also, during vacation times I want to get back on the international trails. For example, I am still itching to do that gorgeous hike from the Strait of Gibraltar to the South of Portugal.
Wherever JoJo and I are, wherever we go, the journey continues. Stay tuned for more trails and adventures!

Alright, this is it. One more sleep in Montpellier. Then, tomorrow morning, I’ll hop into a rental car and drive north, towards the Swiss border. All luggage is in the car already, so we can get a running start. All I’ll need to do at 6 am is to throw some cold water into my face, drink a coffee… and off we go.
As you can see, I am leaving with quite the little family in tow: a fish, a stingray and, most importantly, little JoJo, the sweetest old street cat in all of Montpellier. Most likely in all of France ;).
Today was a full and exciting day for JoJo and me both. In the morning, I said goodbye to yet another new friend I am grateful to have crossed paths with. We went for a walk in the old town and got my favorite donuts one last time. Sooo good. Afterwards, JoJo and I went to the veterinary to make sure his travel papers are in order. I wanted to go get a Covid test, but the line was about a mile long. After one hour, I gave up waiting. Hopefully, this won’t cause a problem tomorrow… but that’s a bridge – or rather a border – I’ll cross then. Bottom line: Cat is ready. I am not.
In the evening, I went to get a rental car, maneuvered it through all the narrow one-way streets, broke out in a cold sweat while doing so, and finally found a parking space. It’s a great little car, and I’ve already prepared lots of cozy sleeping spaces for JoJo.
A bientôt Montpellier!