Do you have a unique hobby? What is your unique hobby? How does it work and how did you get into it? What draws you to this hobby?

My unique hobby is collecting and analyzing vintage chess puzzles from old tournament books and newspapers. It might sound niche, but there's something fascinating about how chess problems were composed decades ago often elegant, surprising, and full of creative brilliance. I got into this hobby during my teenage years while preparing for tournaments. A coach once handed me an old puzzle book from the 1970s and said, "Try solving these when you feel stuck with modern theory." It was a game-changer. These puzzles didn't just test tactics--they stretched my imagination and helped me think differently. What draws me to this hobby is its timelessness. Even today, a century-old puzzle can humble a strong player. This also inspires how I teach at ChessEasy Academy. I often include a vintage puzzle in class to show students that learning from the past can sharpen present-day skills. It's not just about solving moves; it's about connecting with the artistry and history of the game. That blend of logic and creativity keeps me hooked.

I'm passionate about crochet, a unique hobby I finded recently. Crochet involves using yarn and a hook to create items like scarves and blankets. Initially, I was attracted to the calming process of stitching and the satisfaction of completing a project. For beginners, I recommend using basic stitches like the chain and single crochet, which I've been practicing to improve tension and consistency. One aspect that draws me to crochet is the creative freedom. I started with simple projects but quickly found myself immersed in experimenting with patterns. My first scarf, alternating single and double crochet stitches, was an excellent learning curve. I'm now diving into more complex techniques such as colorwork and crocheting in the round, which adds variety and excitement to my crafting routine. Connecting with fellow crafters online and attending local workshops is also a huge part of why I love this hobby. The crochet community is incredibly supportive and offers endless resources and inspiration. Whether it’s sharing projects or tackling new techniques together, the social aspect enriches the entire experience.

Kintsugi art has become one of the most meaningful hobbies in my life. I first came across it during a trip to Kyoto, where a gallery displayed ceramic bowls with golden cracks, each telling its own story of damage and renewal. Now, I collect broken pottery and use epoxy mixed with gold powder to repair the pieces by hand. It's a slow, deliberate process that requires patience and presence, which I didn't realize I needed until I started. What draws me in most is the symbolism--transforming something fractured into something more beautiful than before. It's therapeutic in a way that feels both artistic and philosophical. Every piece I finish reminds me that imperfection isn't something to hide--it's something to honor.

For over twenty years I have enjoyed experimenting with pieces of jewelry, and I do mean pieces. I have sought out antique jewelry, single earrings that are missing their companions, and more simply articles that friends are discarding. I have searched through collections at estate sales and even craft stores. All these tiny gems have become my inventory when I'm enjoying my craft. Simply, I repurpose jewelry. I have found that every element of the craft brings me joy, challenges my artistic side, and then surprising others when I create for them a special gift. I have always sought opportunities to use, grow and challenge my seemingly artistic gift. This form of crafting seems to be a perfect fit. I'm skilled at imagining a final piece and working backwards to search for the required elements. I also enjoy the utility of my creations, as they are small, portable, enjoyed for their beauty and easy to use, that is wear.

You don't hit personal bests in the gym by chance and you don't build a business by chance either. Powerlifting might seem like a niche hobby, but for me, it's been a key part of how I approach building brands, including my own--Turtle Strength. It's not just lifting weights. It's a long-term game that teaches structure, consistency and mental discipline. The same principles apply when you're growing a business from scratch. When you lift, the feedback is instant. You either move the weight or you don't. That forces you to focus on what actually moves the needle. You can't just turn up and hope for progress. Same with business: have a plan, stick to it, and focus on the big rocks. I train on my lunch break with a pre-written plan, no phone, no distractions. That block of time is about getting the work done. It's the same mindset that helped me start and grow Turtle Strength, our fitness gear brand. The brand stands for a simple idea, hard work pays off over time. If you show up consistently, stay focused and don't chase shortcuts, the results come. That belief didn't come from a business book. It came from years under the bar. I've had setbacks, shoulder injuries, slow patches--but I've learned to train smarter, not just harder. That's meant adding the small, unsexy things that keep you in the game longer. In business, that's process. In lifting, it's accessory work. Either way, it's about staying consistent and protecting your momentum. The biggest advice I'd give? Don't give up your training for the grind. Lifting clears your head, keeps your mindset calm and gives you small wins on tough days. That discipline carries over into every part of your life, especially business.

Everyone's got that thing their friends find weirdly specific. Mine? Yo-yos. Not just casually throwing one around - I'm talking competition-level tricks, collecting rare models, and losing countless hours perfecting that one move that's been driving me crazy. I got into it about six years ago during a particularly brutal agency burnout phase. I was working 70-hour weeks optimizing content for clients who couldn't decide what they wanted, and my brain was fried. Found this metal yo-yo in a specialty shop while killing time before a client meeting. The weight of it felt... different. Not like the plastic toys from when I was a kid. Bought it on impulse - best $40 stress relief purchase ever. What started as desk fidgeting between calls turned into a full-blown obsession. I'd watch competition videos during lunch breaks, practicing the basic mounts until my fingers had string burn. The thing about yo-yos is they're deceptively complex. Anyone can make one go up and down, but executing a clean Kwijibo or Spirit Bomb? That's technical mastery that takes hundreds of hours of practice. What draws me to it is the perfect blend of physics, precision, and creativity. It's meditative - my brain can't spiral about SEO metrics when I'm focused on landing a clean Horizontal. And unlike digital marketing where success metrics constantly change, in yo-yoing, you either land the trick or you don't. That brutal simplicity is refreshing after spending days debating the meaning behind a 0.2% change in conversion rates. I've got about 12 different yo-yos now, each with different weights, shapes and string response systems. My clients think I'm weird when they spot my collection during video calls, but honestly, I think everyone needs that one oddly specific thing that's just theirs - something completely disconnected from their work identity.

I've always been fascinated by less common hobbies, and one that I particularly enjoy is sand art in bottles. Sand art involves layering colored sands inside glass bottles to create intricate, picturesque designs that are unique and captivating. The hobby demands a steady hand and a keen eye for color gradients and patterns. I stumbled upon this hobby during a beach vacation where a local artist displayed an array of these artistic bottles. The blend of colors and the precision involved drew me in immediately. It's incredibly therapeutic; the focus and attention to detail it requires help clear my mind. Plus, there’s always a sense of accomplishment in creating something beautiful from ordinary sand. This activity not only is a wonderful way to decompress, but it also gives me lovely handcrafted gifts to share with friends and family. The joy and surprise it brings to others make the hobby even more rewarding.

Exploring the world of traditional Nepali wood carving is a unique hobby that I'm passionate about. It's an intricate art form where you create detailed designs using simple hand tools. In Nepal, this craft is everywhere, from ancient temples to modern homes, making it both a cultural tradition and a personal creative expression. I got into this hobby during my early treks through remote villages, where I was inspired by the woodwork that adorned local households and ancient stupas. What draws me to wood carving is the connection to heritage and the tactile satisfaction of crafting something meaningful with my hands. Start with choosing the right wood, typically sal or teak, as they hold detail well and age beautifully. Beginners should practice carving small geometric patterns or traditional motifs like mandalas. Using sharp tools is crucial for clean lines and precision. Regularly maintaining the tools through sharpening and proper storage not only improves the carving quality but also enhances safety. Immersing yourself in understanding the symbolic meanings of traditional patterns can add depth to your work, making it not just a craft but also a personal journey into cultural history.

I bought an FPV drone for my son, but started to fly and it became my hobby. It's wild how fast I got hooked. There's something about seeing the world from a bird's-eye view that pulls you in. You throw on the goggles and feel like you're inside a video game--total freedom, full control. It started as "let's see if he likes it," and now I'm watching build tutorials, tweaking the setup, and racing in open fields when I get a chance. You learn fast--how to balance weight, adjust flight modes, replace broken parts. What draws me in is the challenge. Every flight feels different, and I love that mix of tech and hands-on control.

Creating DIY escape rooms is my go-to way to blend creativity, storytelling, and a bit of hands-on problem-solving into something fun. I write original plots, design puzzles using everyday objects, and hide clues around the house to build suspense and challenge. The first one I made was for a friend's birthday, and since then, it's become a regular tradition with my family. I enjoy watching people think through each twist and turn, especially when they finally crack a tough clue. These games pull everyone into a shared story, where every solution feels like a mini victory. I spend hours planning each detail to make sure the game flows smoothly and stays engaging. It's a deeply rewarding process that brings imagination and people together in a creative way.

One of my favorite pastimes which I've become enamored with over the years is urban exploration in the form of tracking down forgotten or abandoned locations through maps, historical documentation, and naturally, the occasional GPS receiver. It's an amalgamation of technology or adventure in one sense or another that suits me quite well. It started when I discovered an old, unused air raid shelter near my home. I dug around (quite literally!), read about its past, and I was hooked. Now in my spare time, I'll venture out after conducting research on sites with an intriguing past--anywhere from closed rail tunnels to World War II bunkers. From satellite imagery, GPS readings, and some detective work, I follow the trail and go find out what can be uncovered. My favorite part of it is the discovery. It is half history, half exploration, and half a break from everyday life. And it also gives me a sense of appreciation for what technology like tracking and mapping can do to expose stories that are quite literally in plain sight.

Astrophotography -- documenting the nighttime magic with my camera -- is one of my most surprising pursuits. I first got into it a few years ago on a solo camping trip when I attempted to photograph the Milky Way (and failed) using just my smartphone. I was frustrated but fascinated, so I went down a research rabbit hole, reading about long exposures, star trackers and editing software. These days, I shoot long exposure photos of galaxies, nebulas, and meteor showers using a modified DSLR with a wide angle lens, mounted to a tripod. There's something almost meditative about standing beneath a black sky and fumbling over settings and waiting for the perfect shot -- it's become a release from my recursive to-do list. What I love most about astrophotography is the combination of art and science. Every session is like a treasure hunt -- searching for spots with little light pollution, timing shots by the moon phase and processing raw images to expose colors the eye can't see. The Orion Nebula is my favorite so far, and that took weeks of planning and editing. It's surprisingly social, too; I've met a local astro group, and we share tips and organize "dark sky" meetups. In a role in which I so often find myself dealing with people, this part-time gig gets me grounded in something larger than myself -- quite literally. Plus nothing compares to seeing the stars you can't even see with your eyes when you check your camera after a 30-second exposure!

I got into catfish noodling a few years ago when I lived down South, thanks to a friend who said it was the most exciting thing you could do in muddy water. The first time I stuck my hand in a hole and a huge catfish bit down on my arm, I was instantly hooked. Now, every year, my friends and I go back to those same rivers to noodle together, and it's become one of my favorite things to do. The mix of excitement, laughs, and a little bit of danger always brings us closer. It's not just about catching fish--it's about spending time together, sharing stories, and keeping our friendship strong.

My unique hobby is investing in student housing. When I was in my early twenties, I was inspired by my grandfather, who was a real estate investor and got to retire early while helping to put my brother and me through college. I loved the idea of having financial security without having to work a 9-5 until age 65, so I decided to follow in his footsteps. After college, I worked two jobs and saved up as much as I could to be able to afford a downpayment on my first rental property. After that, things snowballed: I reinvested my rental income, bought more properties, and retired at 31. To me, investing in real estate is an ideal hobby: You can start small while working a traditional job and scale it up to replace your full-time income, if you want to.

Pottery is one of my leisure activities. The actual work of working with the clay and shaping it into something useful appeals to me as an exercise in art and mindfulness. There is something extremely comforting about working with the clay--seeing it transform and change in my hands, much like the work that is done personally within therapy. Pottery necessitates patience and concentration, virtues which are at the core of my private existence as well as professional ethos. I initially discovered pottery through a weekend workshop about three years ago. Initially, it was purely a means to relax, yet it soon grew into a meditative practice. The tactile form of pottery prevents me from needing to be perpetually engaged at the mental level of everyday living. Every time I work, despite its defects, I am reminded of being on a journey and not for some destination, as it teaches me to appreciate the process. What I find appealing about pottery is that it can center me. The concentration it requires has a meditative aspect, which is similar to the mindfulness principles I promote in my practice with clients. The art has shown me more about patience, being present, and acceptance in life as well as in the therapy I provide. Whether I'm creating a bowl or finishing glaze, pottery reminds me of the small, deliberate steps that produce significant results.

A hobby I've taken up is foraging for wild edible plants--yes, even in urban and suburban areas. It began during weekend hikes when I started noticing plants I'd seen in old field guides. I got curious and began learning how to identify safe-to-eat wild herbs, berries, and greens like chickweed, miner's lettuce, or purslane. Now, I carry a little field notebook and sometimes plan hikes around seasons of wild growth. It's part culinary adventure, part mindfulness practice. What draws me to it is the connection to nature in a deeply personal way. Foraging trains your observation skills and forces you to slow down, be present, and respect the environment. There's a thrill in finding something nutritious and flavorful in a place most people would overlook, like wild mint near a stream or wood sorrel on a shaded trail. Plus, I love how it breaks the norm of modern convenience. In a world that pushes us to buy more, forage culture encourages us to look more closely at what's already there. It's surprisingly grounding, and yes, I've even added wild greens to salads at dinner parties. Always a great conversation starter!

I think people are always surprised when I say this, but I absolutely love teaching napkin folding. Yes--napkin folding. It started during my early days in hospitality training, and I was instantly hooked. I remember one student saying, "This is like origami for dinner tables," and that's exactly how it felt. I got into it because I wanted to add that little extra flair to events and service presentations, and over time, it became something I truly enjoyed teaching and sharing. There's a creative calm to it--precision, symmetry, and elegance all in one simple fold. What draws me to it is that it's such a small detail that can make a big impression. In a world full of noise, this one quiet little skill says, "You cared." I've done sessions at industry events and even taught it to teams who now use it to impress guests. Please let me know if you will feature my submission because I would love to read the final article. I hope this was useful and thanks for the opportunity. Timothy Lam Executive Director, The International School of Hospitality

One unusual hobby that I've developed since moving to Cozumel is underwater photography -- more specifically, taking the time to shoot the lively life around the reefs surrounding the island. It began after a guest lent me a waterproof camera on a dive. I knew I was hooked the minute I took a picture of a sea turtle gliding by coral fans. Now I go out regularly, often just after sunrise, when the light comes through the water just so. What captivates me is the way it compels you to slow down and take notice, really take notice, of the complex ballet of life beneath the surface. It also allows me to share the reef's magic with guests who may not dive themselves, bringing a bit of that world up top.

Yeah -- fermentation is my little odd place in the world. I began with sourdough during the 2020 lockdowns (like half the planet), but it mushroomed into kefir, miso and, eventually, crafting my own koji to ferment soybeans for homemade tamari. It's a little science, a little patience and a whole lot of "wait and see." What I was seduced by was the metamorphosis -- simple ingredients slowly turning into something deep and complex over the course of days, weeks. The real hook is how alive but hands off it is." You prep, you wait, you taste, you adjust. It's meditative in that way gardening people love, probably something you'd find resonating with, Andrew, given your horticultural background. It's slow and rewarding and shows you how to trust processes that seem invisible and then suddenly are not to be denied.

I grow bonsai trees. It started as a random interest when I saw a small booth at a Sunday market in Tagaytay, and I ended up buying a tiny bantigue tree. I had no clue how to take care of it. The vendor just told me, "Don't kill it with too much love," which stuck with me. I went home, did some reading, and slowly got into it. Now I have around ten trees, all in different stages. Some are still just saplings, others are more developed. What draws me to bonsai is how much patience it teaches you. You can't rush anything. You shape it, trim it, repot it, and sometimes it looks like nothing's changing. But after months or even years, you suddenly see how far it's come. It's very humbling. In business, everything feels urgent; everything has a deadline. But bonsai has its rhythm. It forces me to stop thinking about profit margins and shipment schedules for a bit. I just sit there, pruning a branch or adjusting wire, and that's it. No noise, no pressure. Just quiet work that takes time.