From a Cup of Coffee to the World – Reflections of a Writer and Cross-Cultural Trainer

By Ali Syarief

People often ask me how I spend my days.

Some imagine that an editor, writer, and cross-cultural trainer must live in a whirlwind of meetings, conferences, and international flights. They picture a life of constant movement, important appointments, and endless deadlines.

The truth is far simpler.

Every morning begins in my kitchen.

Since my assistant returned to her hometown, I have become the cook of my own modest breakfast. I boil a couple of eggs, brew a cup of coffee, and peel a ripe papaya. That is all I need. There is something deeply satisfying about preparing one’s own meal. It reminds me that happiness rarely depends on abundance; it grows quietly from a sense of gratitude.

I often think of Leo Tolstoy, who found wisdom not in palaces but in the fields where he worked alongside ordinary farmers. I remember Mahatma Gandhi, whose greatness was reflected in the simplicity of his daily life. Even Haruki Murakami begins each day with a disciplined routine before sitting down to write. Extraordinary lives, I have learned, are often built upon ordinary habits.

After breakfast, I walk to the aviary.

The birds greet me with songs that seem to celebrate another ordinary morning. Then I feed the fish in the pond, watching the ripples spread gently across the water. These moments have become my daily meditation. Nature has a remarkable way of reminding us that life does not have to be hurried to be meaningful.

Only then do I return to the world that has been my lifelong companion—the world of words.

I write news stories. I compose articles. I rewrite books, breathing new life into old manuscripts. I read, and then I write again. Reading allows me to converse with great minds across centuries; writing allows me to converse with the present.

Sometimes I take time to care for my body as carefully as I care for my thoughts. A body scrub, a relaxing sauna, and moments of quiet reflection help restore the balance between physical well-being and mental clarity.

As evening approaches, I often sing or simply sit back and enjoy live music. Music possesses a language beyond words. It crosses borders effortlessly, touching hearts regardless of nationality, religion, or language.

Yet there is another rhythm that shapes my life.

At least three times every year, I travel abroad.

These journeys are not merely vacations. They are an essential part of my calling as a cross-cultural trainer. Every destination becomes another classroom, every encounter another lesson, every conversation another opportunity to build understanding between people from different backgrounds.

Over the years, I have come to believe that airports are among the most fascinating places in the world. They are crossroads where cultures meet before continuing their separate journeys. Every boarding pass carries not only a destination but also the promise of new friendships and fresh perspectives.

Whether I am in Japan, Europe, or elsewhere, I do not travel simply to see famous landmarks. I travel to understand how people live, how they think, how they celebrate, and how they express kindness in ways unique to their culture.

Each country teaches me that humanity speaks many languages, yet compassion needs no translation.

As a cross-cultural trainer, I have witnessed countless moments when strangers become friends simply because they are willing to listen before they judge. Cultural understanding is not about agreeing on everything; it is about respecting differences while discovering our shared humanity.

Every journey leaves me richer—not because of what I buy, but because of what I learn.

When I return home, my suitcase is usually light. My heart, however, is always full.

Mark Twain once observed that travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness. I have found those words to be profoundly true. The more I travel, the more I realize that the world is too vast to be viewed through a single window.

And so my life continues in its quiet rhythm.

I boil eggs.

I brew coffee.

I peel papaya.

I feed birds and fish.

I write.

I read.

I listen to music.

Then, several times each year, I board another airplane—not to escape home, but to better understand the world, and perhaps, in doing so, to better understand myself.

People sometimes assume that an extraordinary life must be filled with extraordinary events.

I no longer believe that.

I believe an extraordinary life is one in which ordinary mornings become the foundation for extraordinary journeys.

My kitchen keeps me humble.

My writing keeps me curious.

The world keeps me learning.

And as long as I am able to cross borders—not only geographical borders but also the invisible borders between cultures—I know my journey is far from over.

For life, after all, is not measured by how many countries we have visited, but by how many hearts we have touched and how many minds we have opened along the way.