From Venezuela to Ireland with Intentionality
Johanna PerezCompartir
There is a particular kind of loneliness that comes with starting over somewhere new. Not the dramatic, cinematic kind. The quiet kind. The kind that shows up when you realise you do not yet have a person to call for no reason.
I know that feeling well.
I moved from Venezuela to Ireland a few years ago. I did not come alone, my husband at the time was with me, but leaving everything behind is its own kind of grief regardless of who is standing next to you. Your language is different. Your references mean nothing. The things that made you feel like yourself; your friendships, your routines, your sense of belonging, are suddenly very far away.
Ireland was patient with me though. Slowly, things started to find their shape. A job. A routine. A few familiar faces that became something more. And eventually, a life that started to feel genuinely mine.
My husband and I eventually went our separate ways. That chapter of my story deserves its own quiet acknowledgment and nothing more, because what I want to talk about is what came after. What I built. What I discovered about myself when I had the space to look.
I Have Always Been a Creator at Heart
Long before Postcrossing, long before Ireland, I was the kind of person who wrote birthday cards like they were love letters. I have always loved the physical act of putting words on paper; creating personalised gifts, being crafty in any opportunity. I dabbled in calligraphy. I made little handwritten notes for friends and family, created origami bookmarkers and paper boxes. I didn't do it because it was expected, but because it felt like the most honest way I knew to say "I was thinking of you."
That instinct never left me. It just needed somewhere to go.
A Roommate, a Postcard, and a Rabbit Hole
The way I found Postcrossing is one of those small, ordinary moments that turns out to matter quite a lot.
I had a roommate I adored. A Canadian woman with Japanese roots, curious about the world in the best possible way. One day I noticed her writing a postcard to a friend from one of her trips around Europe and something about it stopped me. The deliberateness of it. The idea that she had picked up a small piece of somewhere and was sending it, physically, across the world to land in someone's hands.
I went away and did some research and found the Postcrossing community. At that moment I was making my own illustrations and turning them into stickers but my first instinct was to create my own postcards. I signed up and sent my first postcard not really knowing what I was getting into.
I am still fairly new to it, if I am honest. But already it has given me something I did not expect.
What Postcrossing Actually Gives You
On the surface, Postcrossing is simple. You send a postcard to a stranger. A stranger sends one to you. That is it.
But what happens in the space between those two things is something much harder to explain.
When I sit down to write a postcard, I read the recipient's profile carefully. I look for the details that feel real; the foster dog, the hobbies, the love of food from faraway places and little quirks. And then I try to write something that acknowledges them as a person, not just an address on a list. Something that says, without saying it outright, "I saw you. I took a moment for you. You were worth the thought."
That process does something to me. It pulls me out of my own head. It makes me curious about lives that look nothing like mine. It lets me be romantic and playful and intentional all at once, which, if I am honest, is exactly who I am when I am at my best.
And then somewhere in the world, a small piece of Ireland; decorated in my handwriting, stamped and sealed; makes its way to a letterbox I will never see. I find that quietly extraordinary.
Connection Is Not an Accident
One of the things moving countries teaches you, whether you ask for the lesson or not, is that connection does not just happen. You have to choose it. You have to show up for it, sometimes with very little guarantee that it will be returned.
Ireland taught me that, and I am so grateful for its friendly and lively people. Postcrossing reinforces it every time I sit down with a blank postcard.
In a world that moves so fast, where most of our interactions are instant and disposable, there is something quietly radical about slowing down enough to write something by hand, put a stamp on it, and trust it to find its way. It is an act of faith, really. In the postal system, yes, but also in the idea that a stranger on the other side of the world is worth your time and your words.
I believe they are. I think most people are, if we give them the chance.
Where This Is Going
I am building something here at Inktuition that is rooted in exactly this feeling. Slow, intentional connection. Art that means something. A community of people who believe that beautiful, thoughtful things are worth making and worth receiving.
Postcrossing is part of that. So is this blog. So is every postcard I decorate and every caption I write and every newsletter that lands in your inbox.
If you have ever felt the pull towards something slower, something more deliberate, something that feels like it actually matters; I want you to know that it is easier to begin than you think.
You do not need a special pen or a perfect collection of stamps. You just need a postcard, a name, and the willingness to take a moment for a stranger.
That is how I started. And it has quietly changed how I move through the world.
If you want to begin your own snail mail journey and do not know where to start, send me a message. I will tell you exactly how I began. 💌
Warmly, Joy 🌿
Have you ever sent or received a postcard from a stranger? I would love to hear about it in the comments.