The Shoemaker’s Compass:
Solo Travel Guides & Weekend Escapes.
Hi friends, I’m Mostafa!
Yes, this is a travel blog. No, I’m not a professional. I’m just a guy who climbed a ladder through a waterfall and never fully recovered. (Check the photo. I’m not making this up.)
Monday to Friday, I’m at a desk. Weekends, I’m somewhere with fewer emails.
It started with one trail with a group I met on Instagram. Then “just one more.” Now I plan my own and occasionally get lost. (Not on purpose. We don’t talk about those.)
The name? Shoemaker is my family name. No, I don’t make shoes. Someone in the family tree did. Nor do I think that ambition went very well.
I plan it. I make the mistakes. You just show up for the good parts.
Everyone’s welcome here. Even you, spreadsheet person.
My Story: Escaping the Bubble
Well, look at that. You actually made it to my About page. Bold move. Since you’re sticking around, let me tell you a bit about myself and how my love for exploring started. It began with one hike. Then it was five. Then a plane ticket. Now I’m a grown adult who gets weirdly emotional about waterfalls. Grab a coffee, this one’s a journey.
Let’s rewind.
I grew up in a small city in Lebanon. It’s incredibly comfortable and beautiful, but it’s also a bubble.
Growing up, I was caught in the classic chase:
High grades. A scholarship. A corporate job. A raise.
There was always another goal, and we’re taught to call that “ambition.” But if you take a step back, it’s usually just driven by fear: the fear of falling behind or not staying relevant.
The modern world makes it worse. It’s built to make you feel guilty the second you stop hustling, and in my culture that pressure is twice as heavy. Success isn’t defined by your peace of mind. It’s measured by your job title, your salary, or what other people think of you.
Then, in my mid-twenties, I hit my first major burnout.
The Turning Point
In the middle of that crash, the absurdity of the endless chase finally hit me. I had to sit down and ask myself a terrifyingly simple question:
If money wasn’t an issue and I had endless resources, what would I actually do with my days?
The answer didn’t come from a spreadsheet. It came on a single hike in a mountain village called Afqa.
Standing there in the quiet of the Lebanese hills, it clicked:
I am a nature guy.
I don’t love the hustle. I do it to pay the bills. I play the part of the extrovert at my office desk because I have to, but deep down, I just want to disappear to a cabin somewhere and grow my own food.
A New Kind of Goal
So, I started hiking. Turns out, walking uphill on purpose is weirdly therapeutic.
Soon after, I went on my first real adventure to Jordan: wandering Petra, floating in the Dead Sea (yes, you really do float, it’s ridiculous), and coming home with wild salt crystals in my bag like a proud little dragon with treasure. For the first time, I had a goal that had absolutely nothing to do with my resume. No meetings. No performance review. Just me and the view.
But let’s be honest: bills still need to be paid. I’m not here to sell you a daydream about quitting my job and wandering the earth on nothing but a backpack and good vibes. (Rent does not accept vibes.) Instead, I’m focusing on two very real goals:
Goal one: Building financial freedom.
I want to buy back my time and kill the anxiety of the corporate treadmill. I still want to grow my career and skills, but to fund a higher purpose, not to chase a fancy title. (Sorry, LinkedIn.)
Goal two: Simply seeing things.
Escaping the chase gives you the space to actually look around. Turns out the world is pretty great when you’re not staring at a screen. I want to collect stories to tell when I’m old, building a home where every single corner tells a story. Future me is going to be insufferable at dinner parties, and I’m okay with that.
Skipping The Fancy Stuff
Somewhere along the way, we decided adventure needs a price tag. Luxury cruises. Skyscraper views. A restaurant where the plate is huge and the food is a rumor.
I’d like to politely opt out. (Hold your applause.)
Sometimes you’re just done with crowds. And people. And the guy who says “quick question” at 5:59 pm.
So let’s trade the concrete for raw nature.
Less judgement. Less pressure. More of whatever makes you happy. Radical, I know.
And that, my friend, is why you’re here. Welcome to The Shoemaker’s Compass.
