Q. How have your experiences in each country you have lived in, such as London or Los Angeles, helped shape your perspective on life and identity?
A. London was a great place to study and grow into an adult. Being in such a big, diverse, and artistic city made me feel safe and excited to be another young artist in the crowd. It’s one of those places where you can truly be yourself and express who you are. Not that I was outrageous in any way, but I saw people with all kinds of eccentric clothing and bright hair colours passing by without anyone turning their heads (unlike my home city of Mendoza, Argentina back in those days). It felt like a place where people were free to play and express themselves, which gave me the validation to do likewise.
But London is not unique in the sense that every country I live in connects me to something different and challenges my initial perceptions. I usually arrive with a set idea, which gets completely overthrown, teaching me to keep an open mind.
Q. Can you describe the moment in your travels when you first realised that you had what it took to live a nomadic lifestyle?
A. I never set out to become a nomad—the concept was never in my mind. As a teenager sitting in class, looking out the window and dreaming, I knew I would one day travel and live abroad; it was very clear to me. I had no idea how I would do it, but I was sure.
Settling in a new country, I doubted myself at first because of the struggles but the payoff proved far greater than the challenge, and it has always been that way since. In addition, the first time I travelled abroad, I got rid of many belongings to narrow them all down to one backpack. That feeling was so good that I’ve kept my life like that ever since.
Q. Do you ever become homesick for Argentina or any previous country you’ve lived in, and how do you handle those feelings when they arise?
A. Yes, I am always a bit homesick, missing not only Argentina but also any place where I have ever made a home. I don’t like missing out on seeing my niece and nephew grow up or on the daily lives of so many friends. But there is a sacrifice in moving abroad and being a nomad, and this is part of it. Sometimes I say this way of living is like a curse that I would not trade for anything. I stay in touch and travel to visit when I can.
Q. The Smallest Wave explores the concept of authenticity. How do you personally define authenticity, and how has your understanding of it evolved over time?
A. I think it is about honesty: being honest with yourself and others. It is about making decisions from that place, not doing so to please others or to fit in with the crowd. Through the book, I am constantly questioning this in myself.
Q. How has your career as an actor influenced your personal journey and your understanding of identity? Do you think you could have lived a nomadic life if you hadn’t become an actor?
A. Yes, I would have moved around anyway and might have gone to completely different places. While being an actor drove me to certain places, it simultaneously complicated my nomadic lifestyle because I cannot act in every language, and starting over in a new city as an actor takes so much time.
Once, I would move based on where I could work as an actor. I have since broadened the spectrum of what I do and how I move. For example, I used to think I would never be able to live by the beach in a small city but I have since come to realise that I was limiting myself so much because of an idea of what an actor should live like.
On a personal level, though, acting has certainly enriched my nomadic lifestyle, giving me even more curiosity about other people and myself than I would have had otherwise, and a deeper sense of appreciation for what we all have in common.
Q. In The Smallest Wave, you explore the idea of releasing everything to stay true to yourself. Can you elaborate on a specific instance where letting go was particularly difficult but ultimately necessary for your growth?
A. In the book, I talk about questioning marriage and what it meant to me when I was about to get married. It felt like I was expected to want to do it, and even to want to change my name, which felt so wrong at that time though I couldn’t quite understand why. I feared that by not going along with those expectations, I could end up alone, without love or any sense of fitting in. Ultimately, however, I could not physically bring myself to do it and I don’t regret that decision.
Q. An insatiable curiosity played a crucial role in your early decision to see the world. How do you maintain this curiosity as you go through life?
A. I hope I always stay open and curious, always asking questions and always being interested in others and alternative perspectives.
Q. Do you think there will ever come a point when you will decide to settle in one place for good?
A. I’m open to it! Many times I think I have settled ‘for good’ only to end up moving again, so I don’t think in that way anymore. I don’t think it will be a decision as much as something that one day will just have happened, if it does.
Q. As someone who has lived in diverse settings, how do you navigate the challenges of adapting to new environments and settings while maintaining your sense of self?
Q. Truthfully, don’t know how well I actually do that as I do end up identifying with the places I live in, and when I have just moved to a new country, I feel like the ground has been taken from beneath my feet for a while. I have to mourn my previous home a little. How it happens, however, is always different. For example, when I arrived in Athens this year, I was always tired, like my body was adjusting to the new environment and the change. So I rested all I could, tried to check in with myself, and let myself be.
Q. Can you discuss the value of community and relationships in your nomadic lifestyle? How hard is it to say goodbye to those communities when you move on?
A. Community is essential to me: if I am not sharing with others on a daily basis, I end up losing a sense of purpose. I’ve had a community in every country I’ve lived in. In some cities it has been easy to find a community, such as in LA, while in others, not so much but it’s still happened in time.
It’s always tough to say goodbye— sometimes I feel like I am abandoning people, and I know I will feel alone for a while afterwards—but I have always been sure in my mind that I have made the right decision. But I also have a kind of community made up of all my friends across the world. They are spread out like constellations but just as important.
Q. Looking back on your journey, what key piece of advice would you give to your younger self as you embarked on this path of self-discovery and adventure?
A. Work on listening to your instincts. We are told to ignore our instincts so much throughout our lives but the older we get, the more we need them.
I’d also say have patience with yourself and with new places.
Q. Now you’ve shared your story in The Smallest Wave, what feedback from readers has been the most pleasing to see, and why?
A. When people say that they see themselves in it. I think this is why I wrote my memoir in the first place.
The Smallest Wave by Dolores Reynals is out on Amazon now, priced £12.99 in paperback and £3.19 as an eBook. Visit www.doloresreynals.com.
Extract from The Smallest Wave by Dolores Reynals
In this extract from The Smallest Wave, author Dolores Reynals recollects attending a cousin’s wedding as a child—a formative experience in her commitment to authenticity.
That next day in the downtown mansion that was rented out for the big event, Bárbara and I locked ourselves in one of the bathrooms where she started applying the baby blue eyeshadow. I looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“We have to make a plan to catch the wedding bouquet,” she said.
“Ay no. I don’t want it.”
“You don’t want to catch the bouquet?! Okay, we have to make a plan so I catch it.”
“Okay. If I catch it, I will pass it to you.”
“Great! Would you like some eyeshadow?”
I looked in the mirror and was sure that it would not im¬prove my sailor look one bit. I hated my mother for making me wear a child’s outfit and hated myself for not having any idea how ridiculous I would look and feel in the now too-short in a non-attractive way dress. I declined the eyeshadow.
When the bouquet-throwing time came, Bárbara and I made our way towards the dance floor, which began to get crowded with women. I followed Bárbara right into the mid¬dle of the crowd.
“Throw it to meeeee! Throw it to meeeee!” shouted the women.
Claudia got on top of a table at the front, teasing to throw the bouquet in one direction or another, towards which the women moved, pushing and elbowing each other. Screaming. I slowly began moving out of everyone’s way. Bárbara hadn’t noticed I wasn’t right next to her anymore. Great, because I was not so sure about this. I didn’t know exactly what was so disturbing to me about it all, but I wanted to be as far away from it as possible. I had soon made my way out of the crowd. What was wrong with me? Maybe I am not a real woman? Was every woman in the room who wasn’t married there?
Yes, they were.
Are there any women out there in the world who don’t want to fight and scream for this silly bouquet? I hope they do exist.