It Started With Bees, Not a Business Plan
When I was in high school, I wasn’t traveling for pleasure. I was working.
Alongside my studies, I helped my family in our beekeeping business. I took care of the bees and traveled with them from one region to another, following the blooming of flowers. That was my first kind of travel outside the family context. All the trips before that had been family trips. This was different.
Moving bees must be done at night. While others slept, I stayed awake. And when the sun rose, the rest of the team went to sleep, while I remained awake — discovering places. I walked through fields, mountains, plains, and valleys. I met people. I lived small, quiet experiences that slowly changed something inside me.
That’s when I fell in love with travel.
Before that, I was living inside one box — a box I believed represented reality. Traveling showed me that the world is far bigger than any box I had been living in. Once I realized that, I began traveling without the bees. Sometimes alone, sometimes with one or two friends. No planning, no agenda — just the road.
Without even noticing how it happened, I found myself organizing a group trip and posting it on Facebook. I handled everything myself. The trip was beautiful — truly beautiful. So beautiful that most of the participants kept messaging me afterward, asking: “When is the next one?”
Inside my head, I was asking a different question:
What did I gain from this trip, other than a financial loss that I paid from my own pocket?
One night, I tried to sleep, but my thoughts had other plans.
I realized that on that very first trip, I had met the love of my life. I realized that the financial loss meant nothing compared to the gratitude, the joy, and the messages asking for more journeys. That night, I admitted to myself that I hadn’t lost anything. I had gained things that cannot be measured with money.
I found my life partner.
I earned people’s trust and affection.
That’s when I decided to organize another trip — this time learning from the first experience. The result was different. The bus filled completely. Forty-eight people, two days, one journey. This time, the trip was financially profitable. But once again, the real profit was not money.
It was people.
It was impact.
It was the question that stayed with me:
Do you organize trips to make money, or to make people happy?
For a long time, I was alone, handling everything myself. Within just three years, I found myself leading one of the largest travel teams nationally, organizing trips at scale while maintaining quality. We became a reference point — not because of numbers, but because of experience.
I never cared much about numbers.
Travel is deeper than that.
I used to say — and still believe — that as human beings, about 60% of our bodies are made of water. Water, by nature, is pure when it flows — rivers, streams, waterfalls. But when water stagnates in small pools, it gathers impurities and loses its clarity.
We are the same.
When we travel, we cleanse ourselves from what accumulates inside us. For me, travel is a form of purification of the soul. That is why I believe that working in tourism carries a responsibility greater than profit.
My role is simple:
To create paths for the water to flow — through fields and valleys, mountain peaks and forests, landmarks and human experiences. Water must flow so the world becomes better, and so people, like water, leave life greener wherever they pass.
That is how my journey began.
Quietly. Unexpectedly.
And it is still unfolding.