A couple weeks ago I reunited with a large contingent of my Remote Year Ikigai friends as 25 of us celebrated the wedding of one of the couples from our crew (congrats to Todd and Rebeca!). Seventeen of us stayed together at the loveliest cottages in rural Washington. That Saturday morning, I woke up before the rest of my amigos and soaked up a little quiet, contemplative Me Time. While everyone else slept in, I made myself a cup of coffee and sat on a wooden bench, reading Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass in the shadow of the Cascade mountains. I had been working my way from cover to cover, but that morning I sat down and just started reading wherever the book opened up, which happened to be right to the beginning of “Song of the Open Road.”

This is one of Whitman’s most iconic poems: an ode to long, deep, continuous travel. You might recognize the opening verse, often slapped on trite motivational posters or Instagram posts:

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Or perhaps you’ve seen Volvo’s artistic long-form ad from 2016 featuring a hodgepodge of stanzas from the poem, voiced by Josh Brolin.

I don’t think I’d read the poem in its entirety for nearly a decade, and it resonated with me in a new way as I sat there reflecting on my Remote Year experience. The twelfth stanza in particular tugged at my emotions:

Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them!
They too are on the road — they are the swift and majestic men — they are the greatest women,
Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habituès of many distant countries, habituès of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious years each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

Although the opening lines of “Song of the Open Road” call to mind visions of an adventurer setting out on his own, our solo wanderer winds his way through the poem and across the world, exploring places, yes, but also connecting with people of many different cultures and stages of life. By the middle of the poem, the “we’s” begin to outnumber the “I’s.” Our poetic protagonist may have started the journey by himself, but along the way he finds his diverse tribe of fellow journeyers. He does not travel on his own.

In that moment, I realized that although I began Remote Year on July 30, 2016, as a solo traveler, along the way I became part of something larger. I now belong to a tribe of “swift and majestic men” and “the greatest women.” I can count on my “great Companions” who will enjoy calm seas and even the “storms of seas” in a Level-Three-Fun kind of way.

On August 3, 2018, as I read one particular phrase, “journeyers over consecutive seasons,” tears started welling up in my eyes. There I was — two years since we met as strangers in Lisbon and one year almost to the day since we said our goodbyes in Buenos Aires — reuniting with my Ikigai family. My fellow journeyers, traveling together for a consecutive year. Just one of many more reunions and years of travel together. (And just because I’m a total sucker for symbolism, it wasn’t lost on me that we were there together to be “dancers at wedding-dances.”)

I recommend reading the poem in its entirety. It’s a good one. And to my Ikigais, I close with the final words of Walt Whitman:

Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

xo,
Brooksie

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

Many people who seek an experience like Remote Year are looking to expand their horizons and take them out of their routine. Remote Year definitely does that. But there’s a limit that’s built into program that’s in the name itself: It’s just for a year. And if you’re like me, you have a home to get back to. After a year of adventure, hyper-stimulation, and constant change of everything except your capsule wardrobe (a trendy way of saying you wear the same 8 shirts every week), a return home can feel restrictive and boring. The place may not feel like it has changed, but you have. You’ve seen the world, man. You have new perspectives, yo.

I recently heard a quote credited to Marcel Proust that really resonated with me:

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”

Rather than bemoan the same-ol’-same-ol’-ness of returning home, I got excited about checking out life in Phoenix through new eyes. I’ve been home now for the past seven months and have found a comfortable balance between feeling stable and unpacked, but also still up for adventure. Here are a few ways you can rock life in your home city the RY-way. (Bonus: You don’t even have to have done Remote Year to do these things!)

1. Find your “up for anything crew.”

One of the best aspects of Remote Year is being plugged into a community of curious, active people. One quick message out to the group, and you would have a half dozen people ready to join you for anything: happy hour, a museum visit, a hike, a weekend road trip to Zagreb, a week-long adventure into remote Bolivia. At home, find that group of friends who will not only join you for outings that you plan, but who also suggest new places to explore that you don’t know about. This crew may not be your go-to group of besties. They may be folks on the periphery of your social circle. But go on enough adventures together, and soon that won’t matter.

SUGGESTION: Make a dinner reservation for 4–6 people, then put a call out on Facebook or via email or text to a wide group of friends, saying that the first 5 people to RSVP can claim a spot. This is a fun way to learn who your “up for anything crew” is, and it’s a great way for your social circles to cross-pollinate.

2. Mix up your workspace.

Remote Year teaches you to be productive anywhere. After a year of working from trains, buses, castle courtyards, pool decks, climbing gyms and more cafes/restaurants/bars than you ever expected, being tied to a desk in an office can feel limiting. So set your sights on exploring new workspaces around your city. Coffeeshop hop. Find a new coworking space. (A big shoutout to my coworking home in Phoenix: Co+Hoots!) Look for random places that have wifi and a cool view.

MY EXPERIENCE: Since returning to Phoenix, I’ve linked up with a couple of other friends who can work remotely, and about once a week we pick a different local coffee shop to work from. On the Friday before Christmas, my friend Benjamine and I started our workday at a favorite local dive bar notorious for going overboard with their holiday decorations. We sat at the bar with our bloody Mary and Bailey’s-spiked coffee, tapped into their surprisingly fast wifi, and powered through a few last-minute pre-Christmas tasks. It was one of the most productive mornings I had all year. Before Remote Year I never would have thought of working in a dive bar. Now, I love the thought of finding quirky places to set up my laptop and have a little fun while getting work done.

3. Shift your work hours to take advantage of a local experience.

Remote Year throws the concept of the 9-to-5 to the curb. When you’re trying to keep U.S. business hours while working from Prague, it frees up your mornings for museum outings or morning hikes. If you don’t have to clock in for your job, why restrict your work hours to everyone else’s? Take that weekday hike when the trails are less crowded. Go to a mid-morning yoga class. Work through happy hour, but then grab a nightcap at bar and stay until they close. Figure out your natural daily rhythms, including when you are most productive (aka your “chronotype”), then let that influence your work schedule, rather than falling back in line with the 9-to-5 just because everyone else around you is working then.

SUGGESTION: Read more about how to determine your chronotype. Take Dr. Michael Breus’ The Power of When Quiz or read Daniel Pink’s “When: The Scientific Art of Perfect Timing,” and start figuring out the work schedule that works best for you.

4. Create your own track events.

In every city Remote Year visits, local staff plan events and outings to introduce Remotes to unique cultural experiences ranging from a Latin dance class in Mexico City, to a handicraft project in Prague or a ceviche-making lesson in Lima. Each month you pick a series of such experiences (in RY parlance: a “track”) and get to dive deeper into learning about the local culture. Don’t stop learning once you get home. Seek out classes and events that allow you to learn from local experts. If you can’t find an existing class, create your own.

MY EXPERIENCE: A week ago, Phoenix had a small festival celebrating the street art culture. I put out a call on Facebook for anyone who wanted to check it out, and four of us hopped on our bikes, downloaded a map created by a local street artist and rode around downtown, checking out all the colorful murals. Next month, I’ve arranged for a dozen friends to join me for a private coffee-tasting class. These outings get me out of my daily routine and expand my understanding of the local Phoenix scene.

5. Check out other cultures’ local festivals.

International travel automatically exposes you to other cultures, but when you’re back home, it’s easy to stay in your familiar cocoon of sameness. Break out of that cocoon like the lovely, culturally-minded butterfly you are!!! Chances are, there are immigrants and descendants from other countries in your community that host public events for holidays or have cultural festivals or celebrations. Look them up. Go to them. If nothing else, you’ll probably eat some pretty fabulous food.

MY EXPERIENCE: In February, my friend Kendra and I checked out the Lunar New Year festival hosted by the local Chinese cultural organization. They had food trucks serving tasty octopus balls and boba tea, a stage with martial arts performances and the traditional new year’s lion dance, and of course a photo booth.

6. Plan side trips.

When you spend a month living halfway around the globe somewhere like Bulgaria, all of a sudden places like Greece, Turkey and Romania don’t seem that far away. You become prone to making plans to hop a cheap flight or head out on a road trip to check out somewhere new. As you move from one country to the next for a year, all of a sudden, a month feels way too short to explore all that a city, country or region has to offer. You can do the same thing from home. Why wait for a vacation to take an adventure? Grab one of your “up for anything” friends and take a weekend road trip to off-the-beaten path spots a short drive away. Spend a night camping an hour or so out of town. Or keep your eye out for a super-cheap deal on a direct flight somewhere new.

MY EXPERIENCE: My friend Amy had told me for years that I should join her for a trip to check out the southern AZ wine country. In April we spent a lovely, lazy three days wandering around Bisbee, Tombstone and Senoita, AZ. We drank wine, explored a haunted hotel, watched Wild West gunfight reenactments, and wandered down winding country roads. All the while, I marveled that it took leaving the country for me to realize I could apply the same “side trip” approach to living in Phoenix.

7. Leave time for spontaneity / Say no.

Remote Year is a year of minimal commitments, which means it’s a lot easier to say yes to the impromptu adventures like a spontaneous day trip or a last-minute volunteer outing. At home it’s amazing how your calendar can get sucked up by social obligations and professional commitments that aren’t directly related to your job. Monthly board meetings, baby showers, fundraisers, Mother’s Day brunches, networking happy hours, your friends’ birthday happy hours, your friends’ kids’ birthday parties. None of these things are inherently bad. In fact, they’re often fun and rewarding. But cultivating the skill of saying no every once in a while helps you avoid getting overloaded, which can lead to burnout. It also leaves free time on your calendar to set out on spur-of-the-moment adventures.

MY EXPERIENCE: I used to serve on three different boards or committees, each of which had monthly or quarterly meetings. I stepped down from those organizations when I left for Remote Year, and when I came back, I let each organization know that I would attend events, but not serve on the boards. Maybe someday I’ll return to a leadership position, but for right now, it’s nice to have that time open on my calendar.

8. Integrate your travel habits into your home life.

Have you ever noticed that the words “habit” and “inhabit” share the same root? Wherever you make a home, you are bound to develop routines based on your surroundings. Many people choose to go on an adventure like Remote Year to break from old habits. Extended time abroad can help you initiate new routines. When consciously applied to life back in your hometown, these new routines can either keep you from falling back into destructive old habits, or can enrich your home life.

TIPS: Walk or bike more places instead of driving. Shop for exotic foods in the grocery store or farmers market. Do you have a local Latin pop radio station? Blast it in your car everywhere you go, or turn to the world stations on Spotify. Take a different route each time you head home so you can explore a new neighborhood. Go for a run along a new path each time. Drive across town to work from a different coffee shop. Check out unique foreign restaurants. Don’t accumulate unnecessary stuff. Maintain a minimalist lifestyle.

—

When your eyes are opened to all that the world has to offer, sometimes the little sliver that is “home” can feel mundane. But it’s not always the place that needs to change. One thing to keep in mind is that while the city may have stayed the same, your perspective is different now, so you can experience your home in a new and different way. That is powerful! And exciting. And it opens up way more horizons for you to explore.

Cheers to having new eyes!

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

As I’ve been reconnecting with friends and family around the country, I’ve found that the same questions keep popping up about my 12 months of traveling with Remote Year. I find myself kinda glazing over and starting to give the same rote answers, which is never a good way to engage in conversation. So, here I’ve put together a bit of an FAQ about my year, as well as a few tips for how you can ask me questions that are guaranteed to not get a stock answer.

What was your favorite place?

This is such a popular question that I’ve dedicated an entire post to it. It’s also where I shared a basic summary of the entire year. If you haven’t been paying attention, you can read the Cliffs Notes there. (Warning: even the highlights are a little long.)

So, how was it?

How do I pack a year of living in 12 different foreign cities, visiting 22 countries across four continents, trying to communicate in 8 different languages (plus several variations of Spanish), getting to know 75+ dynamic, diverse people, all while maintaining a new freelance business across multiple timezones into an answer to that question? Whenever someone asks that question, I’m tempted to shrug my shoulders and reply, “It was alright.”

How exactly does Remote Year work?

This blog post gives a good run-down about the program.

How’d work go?

Mostly pretty well. I started my freelance business five months before setting out on Remote Year, so I was still figuring a lot out. (Confession: I still feel like I’m figuring out how to run a business. The design stuff is easy; the business stuff is tricky.) I started RY with a contract gig that I knew was going to end after a few months, but it was a helpful way to get started. I was lucky enough to have a severance from my previous employer (I was one of many “casualties” of a merger/acquisition, an experience that — while painful at the time — I will always be thankful for because it gave me the freedom to look for opportunities like Remote Year) and a healthy savings, and I was able to keep enough work coming in to stay afloat.

In truth, this year my focus was on figuring whether freelancing would be a sustainable career and whether I liked it. I wanted to maintain enough clients to figure out the basics of running my business and keep my bank account from running dry, but I also wanted to keep my commitments low enough to have time to explore. I worked probably a quarter of the pace I used to keep at the agency. I took almost any kind of design work that came my way, even when I wasn’t super familiar with what was being asked of me. I learned new skills, like how to create an animated GIF or design a DVD disc and cover wrap. Almost all of my work came to me via word of mouth or an introduction via a mutual connection. I got a couple of small projects from a contact I made through our coworking space in Prague, but other than that, all my clients were back in the U.S. Some months, I spent more time on volunteer work than paid work.

Did you get along with everyone in your group?

When I set out, I expected the group would be a bunch of millennials and lots of Real World/Road Rules-type drama. I started the year hoping there would be one or two level-headed people in my cohort that I would connect with, while simultaneously putting up a few walls to keep most people at a distance. Turns out that was basically the same M.O. of most everyone in our group. After a few weeks, I started to let my guard down. Some of the people I didn’t take the time to know at the beginning ended up becoming my closest friends and confidants. Sure, there were some ups and downs, a tiff here and there, and there were some people I became closer to than others. But overall, I’d say that our group, named Ikigai, has a strong, supportive and embracing bond. And I use “has” instead of “had” because we still are in daily communication via WhatsApp, and hold weekly video chats to say hi and catch up on each others’ lives. During my travels around the U.S. I’ve been able to meet up with several RY friends (including a night out in San Francisco with Sami, Jen and Miranda last night). Not a week goes by without an Ikigai reunion happening somewhere around the globe.

What was dating like while traveling the world? Did anyone hook up?

Looking for gossip, eh? Well, it probably wasn’t any different than you might expect when you throw 70+ brilliant, dynamic, adventurous, and might I include good-looking strangers together in exciting locations around the world. Sure, there were hook-ups and break-ups. Make-outs and flame-outs. And lots of crushes (of both the requited and unrequited variety). But honestly, there were very few blow-ups because we were all grown-ups. (Pats self on back for the cute word play.) Any drama that did go down usually washed away in a few days, and the people involved didn’t drag the rest of the group with it.

Our group started with two couples — one married, one dating — plus a handful long-distance relationships. All the couples that started the program together are still together (yay love!). A few of the long-distances relationships fizzled, while some stayed strong. Within Ikigai, we had several couples form, most of which are still thriving (cue the “yay love!” cheer again). A few local relationships also formed, thanks to the magic of Tinder, mutual friends or just having the cajones to chat up a stranger. Two couples from our Ikigai community are now engaged (all together now: “yay love!”).

But what about you, Erica? Did you bring back a Latin lover?

Nope. Not enough room in my carry-on, my friends. ;)

Did you feel safe?

For the most part, yes. I experienced some petty theft during the year (my phone was snatched from my purse at a bar in Bogota, Colombia; and my camera gear, a portable speaker, high-quality winter accessories and a couple of make-up items were stolen out of my apartment in Cordoba, Argentina), but I never felt physically in danger.

The closest time I came to that feeling was walking home by myself on a fairly busy street after dark in Rabat, Morocco. A sketchy man started following me and saying what I assumed were taunts to me in both French and Arabic. After putting up with him for a block, I waited until two kind-looking middle-aged men were within earshot and an arm’s length, and I whirled on the man, pointed at the two gentlemen and said, “Arrêt! Ils te voient!” (In English: “Stop! They see you!”) I then walked swiftly away as the two guys confronted the sketchy dude. I didn’t look back until I was a block past my destination, then I went around the corner and doubled-back. The only other dangerous moment I remember hearing about from within our group was when my friend Nathan was robbed of his phone and wallet at knife-point when he was alone in a Moroccan medina late at night. Lesson learned: always walk with someone else at night in Morocco, no matter if you’re male or female.

What do people abroad think about America/Trump?

I’ll refrain from getting too political here, but suffice it to say that based on my conversations with locals around the world, most people seemed confused about what is going on in America right now. In the days following the November election (we were in Split, Croatia), a few people in our group met locals who bought them consolation drinks immediately after learning they were Americans. As you might imagine, Remote Year tends to attract middle-class, educated progressive-leaning Americans, which means that as I traveled the world, my close social circle tended to be a bit of a bubble with similar globalist political and social views. At the time, the election results caught many of us by surprise, but as I expanded my world view, I started to realize that nationalism is not isolated to the U.S. but is a trend crossing the globe. We’ve seen it in Brexit, the Catalan independence movement in Barcelona, the French election, Rodrigo Duterte’s leadership in the Philippines and Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s leadership of Turkey, and more. So, while my American friends were messaging me, “Oh man, you should be glad you’re away from the U.S. during all this craziness,” I should have been responding, “Oh man, you should see the craziness going on out here.” It really does fascinate me that as our ability to connect, communicate and trade across borders and cultures becomes easier, quicker and more ingrained in what we do every day, people across the world are feeling an emotional pull to circle the wagons.

What did you miss most while you were away?

If I were a good daughter or friend, I’d say I missed my family and friends. But the truth is what I missed the most was my house. I love that place. While the accommodations RY put us up in throughout the year were sufficient — sometimes even more than sufficient (thank you Split and Bogota!), I missed the familiar comfort of the kitchen I renovated, the meaningful art on my walls and my very own bed.

What are your fellow Ikigai Remotes doing now?

I’d estimates that a little more a third are still traveling, a little more than a third have either returned home or moved to a new home, and a little less than a third are in limbo, either trying to figure out where to go/what to do next, or taking their sweet time to get there, like me. Some people have returned to the office they were working from before Remote Year, some have started new jobs, and others are looking for their next career move. Remote Year offers a sort of alumni program to anyone who “graduates” from a full RY year, so several friends from my group have been going that route. It’s called Citizenship, and my friend Lauren explains it better than I could in this post on her blog.

What’s next?

Now that I’ve returned to the U.S., I’m planning to keep my travels a little more low-key. I’m wrapping up two months of road-tripping between Wisconsin and California (including a dozen days in Phoenix), and I move back into the house I own in PHX on Monday. I found that to my surprise, I actually like freelancing, and I’m excited about some new clients and new projects on the horizon. I’m ready to take some time to focus more on work than I did during the past 15 months, but I’m building in time to do some domestic travel as well. During my road trips, I found that I loved the freedom and flexibility of throwing a tent and a sleeping bag in the backseat of my car and making last-minute camping plans. I’m eyeing a few weekend getaways that are a car’s drive from Phoenix (I see you, Antelope Canyon, Arches National Park, Palm Springs and Senoita, AZ), and I’m trying to figure out a good time to visit my sister and her wife sometime next year after they move to Virginia.

What’s your next foreign destination?

There are a few places I’ve been wanting to visit for more than a year or two: Seoul, South Korea to visit my friends Elise and Matt; all over Japan to marvel at cherry blossom season; Nicaragua to check out the bed and breakfast that my friends Angela and Heath opened; Cuba to see it before it changes; New Zealand to road trip around the islands in a camper van. Then there are all the places I was so close to earlier this year but didn’t get to explore (Bosnia, Montenegro, Serbia, Cinque Terre, Ecuador) or the places I visited and really want to return to (Croatia, Mexico City, Colombia, Spain, France). The problem with the travel bug is that there is no cure. Honestly, before I set out for a foreign adventure, I first have to build up the travel budget again. For now, I’ll be content with my domestic road trips, though you can bet that I’ll eventually break and start planning to hop a boarder somewhere.

My friend/niece/dog-sitter’s boyfriend’s cousin is interested in Remote Year. Can you talk to them?

Sure, but first, encourage them to check out the RY website in detail, read some blogs (these are good ones to start with), and actually apply. It’s a rolling acceptance and is honestly a no-stress application/interview process. They’re mostly looking for people who A) understand the concept of Remote Year (if they’ve read the blogs I linked to above and still don’t understand that Remote Year doesn’t provide jobs, then they’re probably not the right participant for RY), B) can afford the program fees, and C) would be a good cultural fit (curious, open, flexible and plays well with others). I think that the best time to consult with a current or past RY participant is once someone has been accepted but before handing over the downpayment. Then, I’m happy to chat about specific advice.

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So, there you have it, the FAQ from my year of traveling with Remote Year. If you’ve read all the way through, we can jump straight into deeper conversation, like what I missed in your life while I was away. Or, if you still want to ask questions about my travels, here are five tips for questions I don’t often get asked. It’s much more fun to share stories and insights when questions are specific and unique to your interests.

1. Ask me about a specific photo, a Facebook post or blog entry that caught your attention during the year. There’s likely a fun back story to it.
2. If there was a country or city I visited that piqued your interest or that you plan to visit, ask me for travel tips. I can share everything from tips about neighborhoods to stay in, sites to check out, and the best local coffee shop to chill at or work from.
3. If there’s a step in your daily or weekly routine that you just can’t imagine changing, ask me how I handled that step while navigating different cultures, time zones and languages. You’d be surprised what I learned about things like taking out the trash, riding in an Uber, ordering coffee or buying tampons in different countries. (Seriously, ladies, we could have a long international girl talk conversation.)
4. Ask me about how I experienced one of your favorite hobbies or interests across different cultures. Food, dancing, music, hiking, movies, bowling, you name it, I probably experienced it.
5. If you’ve been to one of the places I traveled to, let’s swap stories about favorite local delicacies and discoveries.

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

It’s impossible to remember everything packed into the past year, but I found a couple of ways to document the experience of 12 months of travel and adventures with my Remote Year Ikigai crew. One little passion project was the yearbook that some friends and I created as a gift to our group. A digital version can be seen on the Blurb website. (Half of the book’s design and cover art credit goes to my partner in crime Lauren Bernal.) I couldn’t stop there, though, and compiled some of the essentials into an infographic:

I also used the One Second Everyday app to compile a video with super-quick clips from the year:

And to round things out, I curated a Spotify playlist of the songs that permeated the year:

I’ll leave you with an excerpt from the conclusion of the yearbook:

Ikibye

What a year, Ikigai. We grew, we changed, we worked, we played, we adventured, we loved so hard. Through it all, we learned more about ourselves, and as we learned about ourselves, we also grew closer together as a tribe and a family. Think back to orientation after our first Friday night out at K Urban Beach; recall how we fought through our hangovers to introduce ourselves to 70+ strangers. Could any of us have predicted how close we would eventually become? Who can forget the Lisbon airport strike on our first travel day and the rush of triumph as Claire came running toward our gate? And if surviving the travel day from hell wasn’t bonding enough, talking about our bowel movements in Morocco sure brought us closer.

Shared challenges made us appreciate even more the beauty of Bulgaria (not to mention the ability to drink the water!) and the quiet ease of life in sleepy Split. Whether freezing time on our chartered flight to the Czech Republic or avoiding freezing our toes thanks to the mulled wine in the Prague Christmas markets, Ikitime was always cool (possibly because we were constantly in fall/winter?). Future New Years Eve celebrations will never live up to scarfing down 12 grapes at the stroke of midnight in Valencia. Marking time can be bittersweet, as when we celebrated our 6-month mark and realized that the end of our Remote Year was now closer than the start.

Shifting continents to Latin America seemed to also shift our perspective and bring us even closer. Bonds of friendship already forged strengthened as we simultaneously widened our social circles and got to know each other on a deeper level through Wisdom Wednesday conversations. Together, we gorged on #allthetacos in CDMX and #alltheaguardiente in Bogota. Together, we floated, flew and fell (ok, rappelled) all over Medellin before wrapping up our time there with an epic finca farewell in the countryside. The adventures of Colombia set the pace for our month in Peru, where it seemed like our entire tribe was constantly coming and going. After Lima, Cordoba was a welcome respite where we could pause and gather our thoughts (and emotions) before descending upon Aspen in Buenos Aires to wrap up our amazing year together.

From mountaintops to rooftops, nothing will ever top the year we spent together, Ikigai. May the memories contained in this book and the friendships that extend beyond these pages continue to enrich our lives and compel each of us to continue to reach for our ikigai with confidence, knowing we have already found our Ikigai.

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

What was your favorite place?

I’ve been back from Remote Year for almost two months now, and this is by far the most popular question, which means it’s also the question I’m most bored of answering. #SorryNotSorry. You know, though, I get it. People who ask this question understand that the year packed a lot of experiences, and they figure that I’ll be most excited to talk about my most favorite place. The challenge is that answering this question is like responding to, “Who’s your favorite kid?”

It’s impossible to pick one favorite. When I try, I find myself giving one of two answers: Either naming a place I know will surprise them (usually Bulgaria, because who seriously says that Bulgaria is their favorite place?), or saying whatever country I’m feeling the most feelings for at that moment, which is usually a place that is either making news at the time, or somewhere I’ve had a random personal event that reminds me of a memory there. (I’ve been thinking a lot of Mexico City and Barcelona lately.)

Each city I called home for a month had it’s pros and cons, and my experience of the city itself was always framed by a host of variables: the quality of my accommodations, my relationship with my flatmates (if I had any), new friends I made (within the group or locals), the weather, how work was going (impacting both how I spent my time and how my budget was holding up), our coworking space, the kinds of side trips I took, where I had just come from, the local cuisine, etc.

Here’s a brief run-down of each city I called home for the year. As you can see by the length of this post, once I start talking about a place, I can go on and on, because it’s not just about the place, it’s also about the experiences I had with the people who made up my Remote Year Ikigai family, my Ikifam. FYI, most of the links below will open up a new tab on your browser and show you Google Image results of the places and things discussed in case you want more info or inspiration for your own travel dreams.

Lisbon, Portugal

AUGUST 2016. Lisbon felt like a typical European city with a lot of culture and history to offer. Although I enjoyed it, I never felt like I really connected with the place. That’s fine, though, because I was focusing on connecting with my fellow Remotes. Our group of 74 were divided up across two different student dorms (university class was not in session). We each had our own room and en suite bathrooms, and shared common cooking areas. This setup was perfect for getting to know each other and bond over a lot of potluck meals (which was good, because I wasn’t in love with Portuguese cuisine…except the exquisite custard tart called pastel de nata). The coworking space, Beta-i, was my least favorite of the year because it lacked character. I went on two side trips: Porto with 40+ other Ikigais (loved it, but learned I need to balance my big-group outings with some me-time) and Peniche (where I thought I’d try surfing but chickened out and ended up mostly just learning new drinking games with my new friends. Ask me about Zero to 99…or maybe don’t…).

WOULD I GO BACK? Yeah, probably. While I don’t feel a need to return to Lisbon, I glimpsed other areas of Portugal that I’d love to check out someday. Now that RY has built their own coworking space, WIP Lisboa, which I hear is awesome, and which I could access as a Remote Year Citizen (aka: alum, someone who has completed an entire Remote Year program), I’d be down to give the city a second chance to win my heart. For now, we’re good acquaintances.

Rabat, Morocco

SEPTEMBER 2016 Confession: Before RY, I had never heard of Rabat, which turns out is the capital of Morocco. Insert embarrassed-face emoji. Rabat was a challenge, which I was so ready for. I think part of the reason I didn’t connect with Lisbon was because it felt like just about any other old world European city I’d visited before, and I wanted something different. Rabat delivered. Just walking down the street was a cultural experience, and in less than a week, our group proved how close we had become when discussing our bowel movements because a normal part of conversation. The apartment I shared with Janet was sufficient, though wifi wasn’t very strong or reliable. Our coworking space, 7AY (pronounced “hay” because of the way it’s written in Arabic) was amazing, though internet could be spotty there, too, and the Moroccan government’s restriction of VOIP calls required jumping through extra hoops just to be able to make work calls. It was also far away from everything, including food, which meant simply trying to figure out dinner took planning and coordination with other Remotes. The locals we got to know there were amazingly friendly. During the month, I went on a desert safari, riding a camel through the Sahara. I visited Marrakech, Fes and Casablanca. I got lost in multiple medinas (marketplaces), sometimes even on purpose while wandering and looking at the beautiful handicrafts. I fell in love with inanimate objects like doors and tiles and serving dishes. While most of my fellow Remotes complained about having to eat tagine all the time, I actually really liked the Moroccan cuisine, though by week 5, I was really ready for some fresh vegetables that wouldn’t wreck havoc on my digestive system.

WOULD I GO BACK? While I enjoyed my time in Morocco immensely, I feel satisfied by what I did and saw there and don’t feel compelled to return. That being said, completely fell for the Moorish style of art and architecture and I would most definitely travel to other similar destinations across north Africa and southern Europe.

Sofia, Bulgaria

OCTOBER 2016 After the challenges of Morocco, Sofia felt like a vacation. Suddenly, basic daily routines like walking to work, drinking water and going to the bathroom were simple again. That month I lived with Gina and Mike in an apartment that coming from Morocco at firs looked like Western luxury, but once the rose-colored glasses came off, was obviously a post-Soviet attempt at a modern renovation (just about anything we touched fell apart). Our coworking space, SOHO, was a little small, but very comfortable and friendly. A couple of fabulous coffee shops were a two-minute walk in either direction and became regular haunts. Sofia was the first city where I got into a routine and became a “regular” at a local establishment. Everything was so cheap that we joked that you could get anything you needed for $3 or less. I believe that Sofia is was Prague was about 15 years ago. No one in our group had ever been to Bulgaria, and for most of us, the country wasn’t anywhere on our travel wish list. I’m pretty sure every one of us are now enthusiastic advocates for Bulgarian travel. YOU SHOULD GO. In addition to soaking up Sofia, I took two epic side trips: The first to Istanbul, which had been at the top of my bucket list and had once been a Remote Year city, but in the wake of bombings I was a little nervous about going. Spending a weekend there with two of my best guy friends, Ben and Sami, was hands-down one of the best decisions I made all year. The space between the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia immediately became one of my most favorite spots in the entire world (it’s the lead photo of this post). The second epic side trip was to celebrate Halloween in “Dracula’s Castle” in Transylvania (a region of Romania, which we discovered was lovely in fall). I also went on a daytrip-turned-overnight trip to hike the Seven Rila Lakes with Ben, Sami and Jenna, which was my first lesson in planned sponteneity.

WOULD I GO BACK? Most definitely. And you should go, too.

Split, Croatia

NOVEMBER 2016 Croatia had also been high on my bucket list for a couple of years, so I was really excited to spend a month in Split. My apartment was an amazing newly constructed vacation rental property with a peek-a-boo view of the beach from the porch and modern luxuries like heated floors in the bathroom. My roommate, Shruti, was traveling for most of the month, so it felt like I got it mostly to myself. Our coworking space, Work in Progress (aka WIP), was also newly constructed, completely designed and operated by Remote Year. It was across the street from the beach, and while the fall air was too chilly to be conducive for swimming, the early evening sunsets over the water provided the perfect break during the work day (many of us were keeping US business hours, so sunset in Split would’ve been late morning in the States). My side trips for the month included a one-night excursion to Dubrovnik with about 30 Remotes (where I randomly ran into my friends Audra and Tracie from Phoenix), a 5-day road trip to Zagreb, Lake Bled (Slovenia), and Trieste, Italy with my besties Ben and Betsy and an overnight visit to the deserted (in winter) Brač island with Lucy and Hilary. Audra and Tracie visited Split for an afternoon, and I got to show them around the old town. Our Ikifam celebrated Thanksgiving with the biggest potluck dinner I’ve ever attended.

WOULD I GO BACK? Yup, but next time I’ll go in the spring or summer when I can rent a yacht and go island-hopping. I would also spend time in places I didn’t get to visit, like Sarajevo, Montenegro, Belgrade, and Ljubljana.

Prague, Czech Republic

DECEMBER 2016 Prague was the first destination on our itinerary that I’d been to before. That meant I didn’t feel the need to try to see and do everything, which made me feel a little less rushed. Being there at Christmastime definitely made it a different experience than when I’d backpacked there in August 2007. I lived in a modern student housing apartment with Janese, Jenna and Lucy. There were two other apartments with eight more Remotes. It was a fun setup. Our coworking space, K10, was a former Danish embassy, which was really cool. Weather was the coldest we had all year, which meant I spent my side trip budget on tall boots, leggings, sweaters, a coat and gloves. I did manage to get to Berlin with Kim, Lauren and Lucy, though (loved it, definitely want to go back), stopped in Dresden for the day (and ran into nearly a dozen other Remotes…because that’s what happens when everyone wants to visit the same places), and Becca and I rented a Smart Car for a day trip to do a hike in the confusingly named Bohemian Switzerland National Park (in the Czech Republic, not Switzerland), and then hopped across the German border to check out the Bastei Bridge. It was miserably cold, and our phones kept dying, but the scenery was breath-taking. In Prague, we kept warm by drinking lots of mulled wine in the Christmas markets. You guys, America needs Christmas markets. I celebrated Christmas by buying a traditional Christmas carp from a street vendor and cooking Christmas Eve dinner with Jenna and Mark, and attending Christmas Day mass with the two of them. Later on Christmas Day, we celebrated as an Ikifam at an estate where we had a white elephant gift exchange, played music, movies and games and indulged in lots of tasty food and drinks. I had my first Michelin star dinner and was wowed by the craft cocktail bars all over the city. Food in general seemed to be more varied and dynamic than when I was there 9 years prior.

WOULD I GO BACK? For sure. I don’t feel a need to plan a trip just to go to Prague, but I’d definitely tack on some extra days if I’m in the region.

Valencia, Spain

JANUARY 2017 I left Prague a couple days early to meet my dear friend Kendra in Madrid. After a couple says in the capital, we joined the rest of my RY crew in Valencia in time for New Years Eve. I had an apartment to myself that month, because in addition to Kendra, my high school pal Cecilia visited. The apartment, though livable, was weird and flawed. The shower flooded the hallway unless you held the shower head by hand. The washing machine’s spin function was broken. Any time I tried to use the stove and keep the fridge running, the power would go out. (I learned to simply unplug the fridge before turning on a burner.) I didn’t love it. Valencia itself was fine, but I really loved exploring Spain. In addition to Madrid, I visited Barcelona (for the second time), Seville (where I reveled in Moorish art and architecture again), the Rioja wine region, San Sebastian, and a brief day trip to Biarritz, France (because why not hop a border when it’s only a 50-min drive away. I loved the tapas and the wine and gave paella a shot (it’s ok, but I’ll take multiple little tapas over a bowl of rice with chicken, snails and rabbit). We had two coworking spaces that month, and they were fine. Neither fabulous or horrible. Each was forgettable enough that I can’t remember their names right now. Whoops. It’s totally my fault, because I only went 5 times the entire month.

WOULD I GO BACK? I really want to go back to Spain in general, but feel like I saw enough of Valencia. I’d definitely spend more time on both the northern and southern coasts of Spain. Northern Spain for the food, southern Spain for the Moorish architecture. Both for the beaches.

Mexico City, Mexico

FEBRUARY 2017 I left Spain a couple days early to spend a week back in Phoenix. By the time I made it to Mexico City, I could tell that it was going to be a good month, based on how enthusiastic my fellow Remotes were. Weather in Mexico was warmer without being scorching. The city was bustling and full of life and craziness, but in a fun, quirky way, rather than an overwhelming way as I’d been afraid it might be. Food was fantastic. Having spent more than a decade in Phoenix, I knew I liked Phoenix Mexican food (in Kansas, I’d only really known Tex-Mex), but Mexican Mexican food was even better…and cheaper. I lived with Betsy, Jenna and Hilary in an apartment on the friendly and green Avenida Amsterdam, where I went running most mornings. I found Ciudad de Mexico (CDMX) in general to be greener than I’d expected, which made me happy. Our coworking space, Publico, was modern and comfortable. We started a weekly series of talks called Wisdom Wednesday, during which 2 members of our group would give a talk about something they were interested in. This was when our group really seemed to gel because we got to know each other’s passions. Talks ranged from how to be better at small talk to what it’s like to work at a nudist camp (where mastering small talk is probably pretty helpful). I took a festive side trip to Mazatlan for Carnaval with a dozen friends, some of whom I was already close with, others whom I got to know even better. Becca, Jacob and I took a day trip to see the monarch butterflies in migration, and I took another day trip with a group to the Teotihuacan pyramids.

WOULD I GO BACK? Tomorrow. Since CDMX is a short, cheap flight from PHX, I expect I’ll back there over and over again. I can see myself going to work from there for several weeks at a time, and perhaps I could even convince some friends to meet me there for a long holiday weekend (hint hint, friends.)

Bogota, Colombia

MARCH 2017 Bogota felt a little like what I expected Mexico City to feel like. Mostly gray, big, dirty, a little dangerous (many of us had our phones stolen out of pockets or purses that month). But it was also friendly and super fun. The nightlife was fabulous, and the neighborhoods where we lived (Zona Rosa and Parque 93) were safe and comfortable. It rained constantly, which made it hard to get out to explore the city, but when I did, I liked it. We had two sister coworking spaces, Work and Go Zona T and Work and Go Calle 95. They were both very comfortable, and since I lived about halfway between them, I enjoyed being able to vary my work location daily. Speaking of where I lived, my apartment was second only to Split. It was modern, spacious enough for both me and Lauren to feel comfortable, and our kitchen was very well-appointed. Lauren and I did a lot of cooking that month. Colombian food was tasty, but I missed my Mexican tacos and chilaquiles. The only side trip I took that month was back to the Bay Area for my grandmother’s memorial service. Other than that, I mostly stayed put and tried to stay dry. I spent a weekend at a major music festival called Estero Picnic, which kinda felt like a side trip of its own.

WOULD I GO BACK? Nah. Nothing against Bogota, but I feel like I’ve checked that box.

Medellin, Colombia

APRIL 2017 The City of Eternal Spring was green, modern and welcoming. I lived with Anu; our apartment was nice enough, but what made it better than sufficient was the view looking out over the city. I had wall-to-wall windows for a third of my room and loved waking up to the natural light and that view. We lived in the Poblado neighborhood, which was really comfortable, modern and trendy, and started to feel a little touristy after a while, though I didn’t mind so much. We had two coworking spaces again, one was another Work and Go; the other was Atom House. I liked Atom House ok, didn’t like the Medellin WAG much, but LOVED all the coffee shops around town. I celebrated my birthday in Cartagena with more than a dozen fellow Remotes, then continued on to Santa Marta and Tayrona National Park with Becca and Jenna, then back again to Santa Marta. I visited a small coffee plantation on a rainy day trip outing, which made me really want to do a longer trip to the coffee region someday. I did two adventure day trips to different parts of Guatape. There was so much to do in and around Medellin.

WOULD I GO BACK? Most definitely. I would spend a couple days in Medellin, and then explore the countryside even more.

Lima, Peru

MAY 2017 This was my third time to Lima. I thought about opting out for the month and going somewhere I hadn’t been before, but I’m so glad I stayed with the group. I ended up exploring new parts of Lima I’d never checked out, and I enjoyed it more than I’d expected to. I loved the food, and reconnecting with an acquaintance, Antonio, who grew up in Lima and had since moved back. I lived with Ben, Betsy and Marko in a building with about a dozen other Remotes. I always enjoyed being close to the group. I spent most mornings either running stairs with friends training for Machu Picchu, or running along the Malecon, the park that runs along the coastal cliffs of Lima. I cooked at home a lot, too, partially because I was trying to be healthy, but mostly because I was trying to save money so I could eat the most expensive meal of my life at Maido, the eighth best restaurant in the world. All those PB&Js were worth it. I loved our coworking space, Comunal, a lot. It ranked up there with the Split coworking space as one of my favorites. My mom came for a visit, and we took a trip to Arequipa and Colca Canyon to see the condors fly, which was more magnificent than I expected. Mom went on to Machu Picchu, and I headed to La Paz.

WOULD I GO BACK? I feel like I’ve been so many times now that I would rather explore someplace new, but if that someplace new is in Peru, I would definitely plan to spend more time in Lima than I may have planned before.

Bolivia Break

Between Lima and Cordoba, a group of 35 of us met up in La Paz, Bolivia, and spent 5 days traveling around the country, including the highlight of visiting the Uyuni Salt Flats. Bolivia was amazing and tough. Sometimes we felt like we were back in Morocco, but roughing it even more. Most of us spent three days in the exact same clothes. But the nature we witnessed was amazing, and doing it together was so much fun.

WOULD I GO BACK? I’d never say never, but I don’t think I’ll return.

Cordoba, Argentina

JUNE 2017 After several intense months of non-stop adventuring in Medellin, Lima/all over Peru, and Bolivia, Cordoba gave us a chance to slow down and rest. People commented over and over again that it was hard to get out of bed in the morning. We slept a lot. I think our bodies were collectively feeling exhausted after 10 months of go-go-going. Cordoba itself didn’t have much going on, but we kinda liked that. It was a great month to chill. I didn’t do any side trips. I spent most of my time working and just hanging out. The food scene was a little lacking, but the craft beer scene was burgeoning. One neighborhood had several “galerias” which were kinda like small outdoor shopping malls/restaurants/bars. Our coworking space, La Maquinita (aka La Maq), was another one of my favorites, with lots of space, bright light and a cool view of a church and a fountain that gave a show every evening at 6pm. I lived with B, Gina and Lucy. Our apartment was quirky, but comfortable enough. The biggest letdown all year, though, happened when our apartment was broken into the afternoon before we left Cordoba and each of us had stuff stolen out of our room. I lost my DSLR camera and all the accessories, a portable speaker, a nice North Face stocking hat, a nice duffel bag, and some makeup items. Such a random selections. I get the electronics and bag to stash it all, but the hat and eyeliner? Sigh.

WOULD I GO BACK? Probably not. I enjoyed it, but I don’t feel the need to come back.

Buenos Aires, Argentina

JULY 2017 I spent about three days in Buenos Aires a few years ago during a 2-week trip around Argentina. This time, we stayed in a neighborhood I didn’t visit before, (Palermo Soho) so it felt like a completely different city. We all lived in an extended stay hotel where we each had our own private studio with bedroom, kitchenette and bathroom. The shared space was the lobby and the rooftop patio/gym. We had two coworking spaces. One, the BA version of La Maq, left a lot to be desired; the other, Area Tres, had very limited seating but was my preferred place to work from. That was good motivation to get up and out the door early so I could grab one of the available seats. Since it was our last month together, very few people planned any side trips. Instead, we spent a lot of time together. Our going away party was the weekend before we left, which meant the last week felt like one long goodbye. This time, the city didn’t really matter. We could’ve been anywhere, as long as we were together. BA offered a lot of fun distractions, though, and the food scene was better than Cordoba. Buenos Aires was the perfect place to make lasting memories with the tribe of people I had grown to love.

WOULD I GO BACK? Not unless something compelling drew me to Argentina again. Between the two months I spent in the country this year, and my previous travel, hitting Mendoza, Iguazu Falls and the Perito Moreno Glacier in Patagonia, I feel like I’ve spent sufficient time in Argentina. I’d rather check out Chile or Brazil in that neck of the woods instead. However, whenever I get around to visiting Antarctica (it’ll happen eventually!), I’d be down for a stopover in BA.

— -

So, there it is. That’s why I can’t answer the question, “What was your favorite place?” There are places I loved because of the art, others I loved because of the food, others because of the nature and others because of what the city meant as part of my Ikigai story. Just because I’d go back to Mexico City tomorrow doesn’t mean that it was my favorite spot of the entire year. Just because life in Rabat was tough doesn’t mean I didn’t love it. Just because I didn’t connect with Lisbon doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t go back again.

When it comes down to it, I think that many people ask that question because they want to know which place I would recommend they visit. The answer is that each place has something amazing to offer. And the cool thing about travel is that now, each of those places has a little bit of me there, too.

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

I’m sitting on a rock overlooking Lake Mary, about 25 minutes outside of Flagstaff, Arizona. My laptop is balanced on my knees, and I’m a conflicted ball of emotions. Remote Year is over. It’s been over for 50 days actually. I’ve been back in the US for 44 of those days, bouncing from state to state, crashing with friends and family, and flexing my new camping muscles when I don’t have a couch to crash on. It’s been a wonderful extension of my Remote Year adventure, continuing to work while traveling. I’ve been able to spend some quality time with family at my sister’s wedding and again in Colorado. I’ve had coffee and drinks and late night catch-up sessions with a ton of friends I haven’t seen in ages, and even made a couple new friends along the way.

But tomorrow I head back to Phoenix. Back home. And I’m conflicted. Not about wanting to go back to Phoenix. The longer I was away from Phoenix, the more convicted I became that that city has become my adopted home. I can’t wait to settle back into my comfortable house (I’ve missed it so!), get back into a steady daily routine, plan happy hours and dinner parties with friends. I’m excited about not constantly living out of a suitcase, being able to cook regularly and returning to the coworking space I work from several days a week.

Unlike some people who set out on a radical adventure like Remote Year, I wasn’t running away from something. I wasn’t trying to flee a broken relationship, or get outta Dodge. I’d had a career change, which opened my eyes to new opportunities and allowed me to tap into something I dearly love: deep, extended travel. The “digital nomad” community of which I have become a part (for better or worse) often eschews the concept of having a home. Even worse: returning home (that implies that you’ve tried digital nomading and failed at it). There is a romanticized — almost elitist — attitude that working from your laptop in an amazing foreign city (bonus points if said foreign city has a beach) is “better” than working from a place you call home (negative points if said place includes an office building).

There are many things that I learned during Remote Year. Maybe I’ll get around to writing a post about all the lessons. One of them is this:

I love to travel. And I love being home. And despite what those damn digital nomads try to tell you, these two loves don’t have to be in conflict.

Travel lights me up. I feel a thrill when setting out to explore a new place. I soak up the sights and the smells and I want to #eatallthethings. My creativity gets a boost when photographing a famous landmark, a beautiful vista or just a really cool door. (Thank you, Morocco.) I love trading stories with fellow travelers, getting tips for the best places to grab a good meal or get off the beaten path. I especially love to share stories about when things go awry and lead to either lessons learned or something new discovered. I will always need to travel.

Being home refreshes me. I find Phoenix to be small enough to have a sense of community, but large enough to offer variety and quirkiness. I love the strong bonds friendship that I have, and I’m thankful that my parents are nearby. I am proud of the home I have built. Over the years I have remodeled, updated, painted, decorated and in general put a lot of work into it. I have more dreams for it, too. With each completed project, it becomes more and more of an extension of me, and I love sharing it with family and friends. When I am home, I am at ease.

It’s not the being home part that has my emotions in a tumult right now. It’s the arrival process. That overwhelming moment of re-entry. It’s the dozens and dozens of conversations ahead of me. The same questions over and over again. (Warning: If you ask me what city was my favorite, I’m going to ask you to come up with a more creative question.) The contradiction of wanting to tell so many stories, but not wanting to come across as one of those elitist douchebag digital nomads. (But while we’re on the subject of digital douchebags, check out the satirical Instagram account my friends created to make fun of the elitist-est digital nomads out there.) The pressure to show that I’ve made something of myself this year, that I’ve brought something of the world back to offer Phoenix. That I know what’s next. The pressure to do this over and over again with all the important people in my life who all want to have coffee/lunch/happy hour with me as soon as I come back.

To be honest, I need to ease into my social life again. I’m not going to pack my schedule with coffee dates and social obligations. I want to go to yoga and work from coffeeshops. I don’t want to do all the talking. Tell me what I’ve missed. I want to meet the babies that were born and the new significant others that have entered the picture while I was away. I want quality time, not rushed time. I want routine. I want my friends and family to be patient with me when I say I’m not available to make a happy hour date until November. Because here’s the thing, I do know a little about what’s next: while my Remote Year may have ended, my Remote Lifestyle is just getting started, and this new routine will include a healthy mix of travel and time at home. And there’s nothing contradictory in that balance.

Next up: Road Trip 2.0 (LA to the Bay Area) during the first two weeks of October.

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

I was feeling pretty proud of my progress in picking up Spanish along the way as I travelled through Spain, Mexico, Colombia, Peru and Bolivia. It was slow going at first, but I felt like I was hitting my stride when I traveled to Arequipa, Peru with my mom. She’ll be the first to admit that foreign languages are not her forte, which meant that I had to be our interpreter during our three-day tour with a dozen Spanish speakers. I followed that trip with a couple days on my own in La Paz, Bolivia. No longer could I rely on my fellow Remote Year compadres as a crutch to communicate with locals, and I was starting to gain confidence in my ability to pick up rudimentary traveler’s Spanish.

Then I arrived in Argentina.

Spanish lisp aside, I hadn’t really picked up the differences in accents as we moved through Latin America. But Argentine Spanish is unlike any other. Last weekend, I met a Spaniard who had been here for three months, and he said that the biggest culture shock he was experiencing was that he couldn’t understand the people. They use vos instead of tu, and to throw another wrench into things, conjugations for vos are different than elsewhere. They drop “s” from words left and right (in my mind, the streets of Argentina are littered with “s’es” that have been carelessly tossed aside). They say “aca” instead of “aqui” for “here.” The letters “ll” and “y” are pronounced like “sh” or “j.” After five months of being asked “De dondé eras?” I was confused when asked “De dondé sos?” It doesn’t help that Argentinians speak somuchfasterthaneveryoneelse. And no matter how much I tried to speak my broken Spanish, they couldn’t understand me, either. This was a real conversation I had with the clerk at the convenience store two doors down from my apartment the first week when I was on the hunt for wholewheat bread:

Me: ¿Tienes pan?

Clerk: ¿eh?

Me: ¿Tienes pan?

Clerk: ¿Que?

Me: Uh… ¿tee-en-ess pahn?

Clerk: [Confused look]

Me: Pan? Pon? Pehn? [Sees white bread on the shelf behind the counter. Points at the bread.]

Clerk: Ah! Tang! [Points at the container of the orange powdered drink mix on the shelf above the loaf of Wonder Bread-like pan]

Me: Tang? No…pan! Bread! Pan, como eso [points at the bread again], pero differente. No blanca.

Clerk: Ahhhhh. Quierés pan! No, solo eso. [Says a bunch of stuff I don’t understand] De dondé sos? Francia?

During my first week in Argentina, three people asked if I was from France. I guess I speak Spanish with some kind of French accent? Feeling like I’d taken a step back in my progression, I decided to put a specific effort into studying Spanish by signing up for lessons at a language school around the corner from our workspace this month. Betsy, Michael, Janet and I met with Paola, our “profe” four hours each week.

I feel like I’ve made major strides: I can finally conjugate for subjects other than “yo.” I learned there’s a verb (merendar) that means “to have tea at 5pm.” I can describe essential actions of my daily routine. I now know that “feral cats” are “gatos callejos” (that phrase might come in handy when I return to my neighborhood in Phoenix). And of crucial cultural importance, I can now distinguish the difference in phrases when J Balvin sings: “A elle le gusta / A mi me gusta” (translation: “She likes it / I like it”) in Safari.

*pats self on back* / *palmada en la espalda*

Just for fun, I’ll leave you with this video, articulating several different Spanish accents. It wasn’t until I watched this video, that I could remember the subtle differences between the countries I’d visited so far. Enjoy!

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

If the third time’s the charm, then my third visit to Lima, Peru really charmed me. I had visited the city eight and six years ago, first for a wedding and then to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. Lima didn’t leave much of an impression on me back then. Don’t get me wrong, I had a fabulous time both visits, the food was great and the company I was in even better, but the city of Lima itself didn’t really grab me. With three-plus weeks to explore, though, this time I discovered new neighborhoods beyond the tourist hub that is Miraflores. Barranco is bohemian hip; San Isidro is upscale chic; Callao is gritty and artsy; and the Centro Historico had more charm to discover than I’d been led to believe on previous visits.

Some Highlights

• I spent my mornings either running along the Malecon or helping friends train for Machu Picchu treks by climbing the steep stairs up and down the cliffs to the beach.
• On my third night in the city, my local friend, Antionio (brother of the groom from the wedding I attended in 2009) introduced me to a few of his favorite spots to enjoy pisco sours, the iconic Peruvian beverage of choice.
• I surfed for the first time ever. I even stood up a few times (and fell off just as often).
• My mother visited(!) and we took a trip to Arequipa to see the condors soar over Colca Canyon.
• I witnessed a pair of skateboarding bulldogs…twice!
• Ate a LOT of really great food (see my earlier post about the most amazing meal ever at Maido)

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

Yesterday I arrived in La Paz, Bolivia, all by myself for a couple days of solo travel. For the first time ever, I spent more of the day speaking Spanish than speaking English. It was one of my proudest days on Remote Year. It was basic Spanish, but it was still Spanish.

My First Test: Get into the Country

Upon arriving in La Paz, my first test was making it through the visa application. Americans have to apply for a visa to visit Bolivia, and Bolivian visas can only be applied for in your home country, or upon arriving at the boarder. Information about what is required for a Bolivian visa isn’t clear online. There are even a few discrepancies between the U.S. travel.gov website and the Bolivian government’s website. Nearly 40 of my Remote Year Ikigai crew is La Paz-bound tomorrow, so we group-researched the shit out of the process. The list of what you need to apply for a Bolivian visa at the boarder may or may not include the following:

• A printed copy of your online visa application form
• A photocopy of your passport (with at least 6 months of validity)
• Record of your accommodations and/or itinerary
• A photocopy of your immunization records showing proof of the yellow fever vaccine (if you’ve recently visited someplace with yellow fever, like Colombia)
• Two copies of a recent passport-like photo
• An invitation letter from a current Bolivian resident
• Bank account statement
• $160USD in crisp, unmarked U.S. bills without any rips or tears

Each document needs to be printed and ready to hand over to the immigration officials. I had all of this in my hand when I walked up to the desk after waiting for an hour in line and saw the sign that said in big, bold letters, “All visa applicants must show proof of a return flight to your home country.” That’s when my palms started sweating. A flight back to the U.S.? I know that I’m planning to head back Stateside sometime in September, but I don’t know when, let alone from where yet. My immigration officer didn’t speak any English, so I tried my best to appear calm, collected and fluent en español. He glanced at my application, swiped my passport, took a photo, then stuck a visa in my passport. The next officer folded the corner of my ream of application paperwork, took another photo of me, riffled through my passport, then stamped it and proceeded to try to explain the terms of the visa to me all in Spanish. I understood the gist of what he was saying (the visa is good for 90 days a year for the next 10 years). I nodded, said, “Entiendo,” and was waved on to customs. Success!

My Second Test: Get Around the City

I have found that Bolivians speak less English than just about any other country I’ve visited so far this year, which means I had lots of opportunity to flex my growing Spanish skills. Throughout the day, I was able to do the following while speaking Spanish almost exclusively:

• Converse with my Uber driver during our hour-long drive from the airport to my hotel. It helped that he was originally from Bogota, Colombia, so most of my conversation revolved around me saying things like, “Me gusta mucho Colombia. Me gusta Medellin. Me gusta Cartagena. Me gusta Santa Marta. Me gusta Tayrona. Muy bonita! Me gusta Bogota. Mucho graffiti en la Candelaria. Muy bonita!”
• Check into my hotel
• Get directions to an ATM
• Get directions to a mobile phone store
• Navigate the process of buying and activating a SIM card for my phone (experiencing for the third time the convoluted process of buying a SIM card in Latin America, which this time included feeding paper money into an ATM-like machine outside the store…still confused about that step)
• Get directions to two pharmacies in the attempt to purchase Pepto Bismol. (The day before I’d heard a report on NPR that studies show that taking 2 tablets of Pepto 4x a day reduces the chance of traveler’s diarrhea by 60%.) Sadly, apparently Pepto Bismol doesn’t exist in Bolivia. But at least I learned that while speaking Spanish.
• Get directions to a cafe with food and wifi
• Order said food…twice

Nowhere in that list is anything life-changing or all that impressive, but the proportion of Spanish > English was a memorable one for me. /pats self on la espalda

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.

This weekend I saw a sign that said (in Spanish), “I want to be the lime in your ceviche.” Considering how much it resonated with me, I realized that Peruvian food might just be my love language.

So when I had the opportunity to join some friends for a dinner at Maido, the eighth best restaurant in the world (and the second best in Latin America), according to people who know these things, I jumped at the chance. And then proceeded to eat PB&J sandwiches for a week to make room in my budget for the $230/person meal with beverage pairings.

Many people are surprised to learn that there is a really strong Asian influence in Peru. You can barely walk a block in the Miraflores or Barranco neighborhoods without running into a “Chifa” (Peruvian Chinese fusion) or a “Nikkei” (Peruvian Japanese fusion) restaurant, and Maido had been on my radar for months. “Maido” means “welcome” in Japanese, and their 13-course Nikkei Experience is certainly a welcome experience. I borrowed a pair of high heels from my friend Becca (the first time I’ve worn heels on Remote Year) and joined Jen, Gina and Lauren to ooh and ahh over every morsel during our nearly 3-hour meal. Our dinner conversation wasn’t so much a discussion as it was a series of prolonged sighs punctuated by exclamations of delight.

Top 8 Exclamations Spoken at the 8th Best Restaurant in the World

• 8. My mouth is so happy right now.
• 7. You guys, it’s like 8th grade science class!
• 6. If it’s not dusted in gold, I’m not having it.
• 5. Wait, is this a bubble bath?
• 4. Did y’all eat the rock yet?
• 3. This is magical. It’s like we’re at Hogwarts and real food just will never be the same. Muggles just don’t know. It’s magic. It’s fucking magic.
• 2. Suddenly I’m not full, and I could do another 13 courses.
• 1. So, you all wanna come back again tomorrow?

To get even more context from the night, you should totally take Lauren’s quiz, Sex or Food? Which Was I Talking About? And now I will return to eating PB&J for 80% of my meals until my parents arrive for a visit next week.

Originally published at Unraveled Travels.