What 6.5 Years In Spain Taught Me About Creativity and Courage

Would you still go if the path ahead of you felt uncertain ?

That’s how my journey to Spain began.

Not with a plan—but with a...

Suitcase full of courage and a leap of faith.

I followed the call of my heart.

More precisely—a Venezuelan man I met in Iceland in 2017.

When I arrived in Spain for the first time that September, I still carried bias from the Spanish tourists I'd encountered in Estonia.

But I chose to stay curious. To see for myself.

At first, it was long-distance.

I was in Spain for one month, then three, then five.

Eventually, it didn’t make sense to keep a rental apartment in Estonia while spending most of my time in Spain.

And if I were to spend there over 183 days a year, I needed to become a tax resident.

So I made the leap.

I left behind my family, my friends, my desktop PC, my office chair, my plants,

my CD collection, my favorite cafés, and the Black Nights Film Festival.

I started over.

I didn’t speak the language. I had no friends here.

My partner and I began exploring: at first, day trips near Madrid.

Then venturing further away.

During that time, I was studying remotely at the New York Institute of Photography.

I brought my camera everywhere. I practiced on the road.

Practicing in the Basque Country

And I practiced at home.

Practicing at home

That course had an expiration date—April 2019. I was stuck with three assignments left, doubting all the photos I had taken.

I told myself none were suitable or good enough.

Then, a week before the deadline, I submitted them anyway.

That act—imperfect but complete—was one of my proudest moments.

I didn’t care about the diploma. I wasn’t doing it to brag.

I just wanted to finish something I’d started. For me.

Places curiosity took me

What led me forward wasn’t certainty—it was curiosity.

It led me into Spanish villages, where I found my creative compass.

Not in flashy tourist hubs, but in quiet plazas and cobblestone streets.

Places where I could feel time slow down.

Where stories lived in old walls, wrinkled hands and rural encounters.

Crinkled hands and rural encounters

I saw kindness in small gestures. I saw beauty in simplicity.

I saw nature folding around daily life.

It led me through the Covid lockdown in 2020, one of the toughest stretches.

My soul craved the outdoors, but they were out of reach.

I had a choice: to lament what I couldn’t have, or to adapt to the strange moment in front of me.

I was grieving at first, but eventually chose to adapt.

It got me curious what kind of person would come out of it, on the other side.

So I turned to food photography. To shooting portraits at home. To strange little experiments.

And in that process, something changed in how I related to creativity—less about chasing, more about tuning into what was already around me.

Curiosity led me to my first Spanish connections too.

To my first local photography workshop - to be precise.

To hiking in Picos de Europa mountains and shooting the stars with other passionate creatives.

I wasn’t very fluent in Spanish but I spoke enough to connect. Those days, I didn’t feel like an outsider anymore.

It led me through a heartbreak too, in 2023.

I thought I needed to focus all my energy on repairing what was broken.

So I nearly shoved photography aside.

But a trip to Asturias—and a hike through the Ruta del Cares—reminded me of something I’d forgotten: creativity isn’t a luxury. It’s a lifeline.

And the first relationship that needed to be fixed was one with myself.

Finding the light at Ruta del Cares

It also led me through injury in 2024.

I couldn’t move the way I used to. Couldn’t shoot the way I wanted.

But I asked myself what I could with what I had.

And once again I wondered what kind of person would come out of it on the other side.

Creativity didn’t disappear. It simply rerouted.

I channeled it into copywriting. Speaking to the camera. Learning videography.

Expression always finds a way in—if you’re willing to let it in.

In the end, I learned

In the beginning, I doubted everything. I waited for inspiration. I procrastinated a lot.

I obsessed over perfection. I copied what others did. I compared constantly.

But the more life challenged me, the more I trusted my own path.

The path less walked

I stopped waiting for a muse and started moving. I learned that action leads to motivation, not the other way around.

I stopped hiding imperfect work. I stopped needing to be “ready.” I started creating anyway.

In the beginning, I didn’t speak the language, didn’t know anyone and had no friends.

But my willingness to step outside of the comfort zone and learn led me to people.

At workshops, events, in accidental encounters or social media —I saw we all shared the common struggles.

Some connections faded. Others still remain.

But each one of them helped me shape the person I was becoming.

If I could tell my younger self one thing

You may be staring into uncertainty. So am I.

Fear is natural. But it doesn’t have to lead.

Let curiosity guide you. Let love and passion be the fuel.

Make the leap—even if you’re not sure where it lands.

I wouldn’t change the journey. But if I could whisper something to you, it would be this:

You don’t need certainty to do the damn thing. You just need to to do the damn thing.

Because the real wisdom is developed in motion.

And if you didn't make that leap 6.5 years ago, where would you be today ?

Wisdom in motion