Campervan – HGFREAK

Gardaland gave my childhood back in one reckless evening: rollercoasters, soaked clothes, stupid laughter, and love acting gloriously twelve again.

Between period pain, turquoise water, and Roman stone, Pula reminded me that home is less a place than shared love.

Between Krka’s river hush and Senj’s stony ache, love meant deadlines, cramps, compromise, and still choosing each other through it.

Between Split’s ancient glow and Ultra’s noise, I wanted escape, not answers—just movement, darkness, and enough music to quiet myself.

Between sea glimpses and a five a.m. knock, Zadar gave us beauty, future-dreaming, expensive dinner, and fragile peace that night.

In Rastoke, waterfalls softened our fears, but marriage felt heavier than romance—beautiful, necessary, and full of questions we couldn’t dodge.

Zagreb arrived noisy and tired, all heavy history and unfinished charm, a place I understood but never truly wanted back.

Ljubljana felt like the Europe of my books: rain-washed, intact, dignified, and briefly kind enough to let me belong again.

Coming back to Dubai felt like diving headfirst into chaos, while the holiday shimmered ahead like the only livable truth.