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My parents used to tell me that when we went on holidays to caravan parks, I’d always end up making heaps of friends. It probably helped that we always ended up at the kids club, and let’s be honest, it’s not hard to make friends when you’re kind of forced to. But even outside of that, I was a pretty social kid. It became even more obvious as my siblings got older. They were capable of socialising, sure, but never really did. Most of the time, they’d tag along with me and my new friends.

If I had a dollar for every time my parents asked me to "take your siblings with you," this newsletter would just be about how to manage wealth or where I park my Lambo.

Looking back though, somewhere along the way, I lost that spark. Don’t get me wrong, when I’m comfortable and really in my element, I’m annoying in the best way. But the initial “hi” or “wanna hang out?” That part of me has faded. At first, I blamed maturity. Told myself I only needed to attract people I could grow with, people I could learn from. That mindset really kicked in after graduation, when school no longer offered a built-in group of people you saw every day simply because your parents chose the same school.

Once that ended, I started slowly cutting ties. Not intentionally, but gradually. And one day I looked around and realised 99 percent of those connections were gone.

Luckily, work brought some of it back. I made amazing friends, but again, I can’t help but wonder, was it just because we shared an office space? Because we had to interact?

Which brings me to now.

I’m solo travelling in a country where I don’t speak the language. There’s no office, no school, no kids club. No built-in reason to talk to anyone. And I’ve realised, I don’t know how to socialise anymore. I think I might actually be an introvert.

But this isn’t a pity party. It’s an accountability post.

I want to be that little girl again, the one who walked up to people and asked to hang out. I want to care a little less, not in a reckless way, not in a way that gets me in trouble, just enough to open myself up to connection again. Enough that when I look back on this trip, I don’t just think about the places I visited, but the people I met along the way.

Love,
LeHare

This week’s travel journal covers my week-long trip to South Korea. Honestly, most of it feels like a blur, which might actually be a blessing. It means this section won’t turn into a novel.

The moment I touched down in Seoul, I was already deep into navigating instructions. I’d organised a personal driver to take me to my hotel. Now, you might be thinking, “She must be loaded to splurge on a pickup service.” Especially since I booked the add-on where they hold a sign with your name. That part I regret. The service itself? Not entirely.

Despite clear instructions on where to meet, I stood there looking like a lost dog for at least 20 minutes before my driver found me. Turns out, I was supposed to message him on WhatsApp once I landed. But I figured, if he had my flight details and a literal sign with my name, surely that would be enough. In the end, it wasn’t the driver who spotted me, but a polite taxi driver who offered me a ride, realised I was waiting for someone else, and kindly called my driver for me. This man spoke almost no English, and I speak barely a word of Korean. And so began the first of many awkward conversations, and I hadn’t even left the airport yet.

Then, I lost my travel money card.

On day two, while shopping for face masks at Olive Young, I dropped the very card I’ve managed to keep safe my entire life. I panicked, mostly because I had no one to blame but myself. But I reminded myself that even without the physical card, I still had money, other payment methods, and a roof over my head.

In Korea, physical cards are still widely used. You often hand your card over for the staff to swipe, and it’s seen as an act of service. So, I knew I needed to get a replacement. The issue? Korean addresses are long and complicated compared to Australian ones, and I wasn’t even sure if the hotel accepted deliveries. I paid for express delivery, only to be told the drop-off was unsuccessful. Classic.

But I always find a solution, even if it means adding 10,000 steps to my day. I had the card redirected to a service point, and let me tell you, I have never appreciated modern delivery systems more. Four days later, I had a new card in my hands. And on that day, I rewarded myself with a visit to my first cold noodle restaurant. They were incredible. Worth every step.

I never went to the same place twice.

The logical reason was that I wanted to explore as much as possible, since I was in a new country. The real reason? Every interaction I had with workers was painfully awkward. I lacked confidence and would stutter, even in English. My self-esteem took a hit, and I couldn’t bear the thought of walking into a store and being remembered as “that awkward girl.” So yes, I visited many new places, but not always for the right reasons.

I think I saw a K-pop group.

While my love for Korea stems from K-dramas, I’m aware many people travel there for the K-pop culture. My friends back in Australia are obsessed. When they ask me if I have a bias, my answer is always Felix from Stray Kids. For those who know who I’m talking about; yes, he’s very handsome. But I’m 5'11, and the idea of looking down at someone isn’t very appealing. That said, his voice? Let’s just say, he could be four feet tall and I’d still be drawn in.

Unfortunately, I didn’t see Stray Kids, but I did see a group of sharply dressed young men surrounded by fans, stepping into a black van with tinted windows. Their presence was magnetic. And if that’s the standard for what K-pop idols look like in real life, I fully understand the cult following now.

Let’s talk about transport.

One of the biggest things to wrap your head around when travelling Korea is how to get around. Since I’m too young to rent a car, and even if I could, I don’t think I’d want to drive in a new country, public transport was my only option. The first few days were chaos. Seoul’s train lines are stacked like a multi-layer cake. Platform after platform. It took until day three to really get the hang of it.

The bus system was a bit easier, but there were still things to learn. You board at the front near the driver and exit through the middle. You tap your card and press a red button to request your stop. There are dedicated seats for the elderly and pregnant, and general seating for everyone else.

Lastly, a story I wasn’t sure I’d tell.

I experienced something I’ve heard about from other solo travellers, the curious pairing of an older woman and a young man who approach foreigners. They’re polite, overly complimentary, and if you’re not paying attention, you might find yourself being gently pulled toward their “home base,” which, from what I gather, is some kind of cult group.

The second time I was approached, they asked if I was a model. And to be honest, I nearly followed them just for the compliment alone.

While I didn’t get the chance to visit all of these, they were definitely on my list. They came highly recommended by both my Korean roommate and a local I met during my trip. If you’re curious about popular spots, or you’re visiting soon and looking for suggestions, here’s a list worth exploring.

If you’re interested seeing my full guide, click the button below.

I’ve officially handed over my first big project, delivering both a full website design and development, along with a capability statement. The project ran over two weeks. It started with an initial call to introduce myself and confirm the scope, followed by a week spent developing a website mockup and drafting the statement. Once both were approved by the client, final versions were completed within five days, and handover was wrapped up by the end of the second week.

When I first took on this project, I knew the work would be manageable, especially if I had used platforms I was already confident with. I’ve built sites on Shopify before, but this client runs a service-based business, not a product-based one. Because of that, I decided to design the site using Framer. At the time, I had only experimented with Framer and hadn’t launched a live site on it before. Luckily, I’ve spent years working with Figma, which shares a lot of similarities in structure and functionality.

I’ve always been someone who loves learning new tools, though realistically, I can’t afford to explore every platform unless there’s a clear financial return. So I backed myself. I used my existing knowledge, leaned on plenty of YouTube tutorials, and built a site that matched everything the client needed.

Ironically, the hardest part wasn’t the development itself. It was the onboarding and handover.

If you’ve ever worked with small business owners, you’ll know what I mean. My client runs a solo excavation business and comes from a construction background. Introducing new digital tools to someone in that space isn’t easy. On top of that, we had limited digital assets to work with, which made building a visually polished project more complex.

The biggest challenge was explaining how to host, manage, and update the site independently. To make things easier, I recorded how-to videos, kept our communication clear and detailed, and scheduled a live walkthrough to show him exactly how everything works.

In the end, it all came together. The project was a big success.

Want to see the full case study? Click the button below.

You might be wondering what more I could possibly write about, especially considering how long my letters already are. But the truth is, these letters are simply a reflection of my week. I usually sit down on send day, or at least try to, even though this week’s letter is many days late, and spend anywhere from one hour to several finishing it up.

This section, in particular, I always leave for send day. It’s my reflection on how I’m feeling right now. My weeks, especially at the moment, tend to include different events, new people, or even new countries. But on send day, I reread everything I’ve written, think back on it all, and in a way, relive it. Then I sit with those feelings and write this part.

Right now, I’m sitting at a table next to the kitchen in the hostel I’m staying at in Rome. I’ve been here for two hours finishing this letter. I still need to add images, thumbnails, and all the extra bits, but I’m ready to reflect.

This morning, I called my mum and told her I’m coming home in a week and a half, two months earlier than planned. I tried to hold back tears, but I couldn’t. I told her how overwhelmed I’ve been, how in over my head I feel. She responded exactly how I expected her to. Calm, caring, and reassuring. She reminded me that I’ll be alright.

So now, as I sit here rereading what I’ve written about my travels and that phone call to my mum, I know I’ll be okay. Yes, I’ve lost a lot of money. But I have to remember the blessings I have, and the ones still to come.

To anyone who has felt lost, overwhelmed, or alone, know that I write these letters in the hope that, like my mum does for me, I can reassure you that you’ll come out the other side. Maybe with a few scars, but also with a lifetime of wisdom that even the richest people in the world wish they had.