In 2007, the world was already beginning to tilt towards the digital. Emails were the new normal, and social media was slowly becoming a global phenomenon. Amidst this rapid shift to virtual connections, I stumbled upon something that would reconnect me to the tangible world in a deeply personal way—Postcrossing.
Postcrossing wasn’t just a website; it was a revolution in its own quiet way. Founded in 2005 by Paulo Magalhães, a man who shared the same love for postcards that many of us did, the idea behind the platform was simple yet profound: to connect people around the world through the act of sending and receiving postcards. What Paulo created was a network, but not the kind with instant messages or fleeting likes. It was a network built on patience, anticipation, and the simple joy of finding a postcard waiting for you in your mailbox.
For me, the magic of mail had been in my life long before I discovered Postcrossing. My dad, a devoted stamp collector, had passed down his love of postal history to me. I remember the weight of the stamp album he handed down, filled with colorful stamps from all over the world—some of which had been printed long before I was even born in 1970. Holding a stamp that had traveled through decades, possibly across oceans, always felt like I was holding a piece of history in my hands. The stamps told stories—of places, people, and events—that connected the past with the present.
So when I found Postcrossing, it felt like rediscovering an old love, but in a new form. The premise was ingenious: sign up, send a postcard to someone in another country, and receive one from a different place in return. Each postcard bore not only a picture but a story—a snapshot of someone’s life from somewhere far away. The moment I registered on the platform, I was hooked. I vividly remember the first time I requested an address from the website. It felt like participating in something so global, yet deeply personal.
My first address came from a user in the U.S. named Rich, a 47-year-old pharmacist. His profile described a family life that seemed both familiar and far away—he and his wife were raising two children and two nephews. He loved postcards that featured cars, animals, military scenes, historic sites, and castles. On July 11th, 2007, he sent me my very first postcard as part of Postcrossing. The card traveled over 14,983 kilometers in just six days before it arrived in Malaysia, landing in my hands on July 17th.
The postcard showed a historic old city center, a quiet moment frozen in time. I remember feeling a rush of excitement as I held it, reading the message Rich had written. There was something so special in knowing that this small, simple card had crossed continents to arrive at my doorstep. It wasn’t just the image on the front; it was the handwritten note, the stamp, and the fact that someone had taken time out of their life to send this card to me.
That first postcard opened the floodgates of my fascination with mail all over again. Each time I sent or received a postcard, my world expanded just a little more. What made Postcrossing magical was the randomness. You didn’t choose whom you would send your postcards to, nor could you pick where yours would come from. Each card was a small surprise, a window into another world.
At the time, Postcrossing wasn’t as well-known as it is today. The community was smaller but passionate. Everyone involved shared that love of postcards, of stamps, of stories from afar. The platform was evolving, but back then, it still had that intimate, almost secret feel—a hidden gem for those of us who cherished slow, meaningful communication in a fast-paced world.
I’ve checked his profile from time to time over the years. Rich hasn’t been seen on the platform in over six years. Part of me hopes that somehow, my book might find its way to him. Perhaps, in reading about that postcard he sent to me so long ago, he might rediscover the joy that brought us all to Postcrossing in the first place, and maybe it will inspire him to get active again, sending postcards across the world as he once did.
This was how I found my place within the Postcrossing community, and through it, the world became a bit smaller and friendlier. Little did I know then that this initial excitement would lay dormant for a while, only to be rekindled years later in a very different world—one where mail, postcards, and Postcrossing had evolved into something much bigger than I could have imagined back in 2007.
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