When I’m not untangling product journeys, I’m usually chasing quieter ones of my own, somewhere between the ocean, a remote road, or a flight search tab, negotiating with myself whether “rest” means a calm dive, a new stamp in the passport… or both. I like places where you can actually hear your own breathing, either underwater or within the nature. Crowds are great for research, less great for relaxation, so you’ll typically find me on the edges: at the calm table in the café, watching how people move, react, and negotiate their day while I carefully avoid becoming part of the show.

I have a long‑term relationship with scuba diving - well before I met my husband - and a particular fascination with caves. It’s the kind of hobby that teaches you patience and respect for risk more than heroics. Overhead environments appeal to me more for the discipline they demand than the thrill of it; planning ahead, staying aware of your limits, and knowing when to call a dive before the cave makes the decision for you.

On land, the same pattern shows up as “road trips instead of resorts” and “conversations over noise”, I’d rather have three honest talks than a hundred quick introductions.

I listen first, talk second, and when I do speak, it’s usually to connect a few dots or tilt the story slightly so it makes more sense, with humour that smiles rather than shouts. My ideal day off has a bit of adventure, a bit of observing, reflection, and a lot of space: no performance, no rush, just enough room to see the small details most people are too busy to notice.