If you walk the bike path in Northampton past Smith College, you eventually cross a wooden bridge over section of river down by the old Felt factory. Every morning, my husband and I take the dogs there, and then I shimmy under the wooden railing, scale the hillside to 50 ft below and call for my husband to release the dogs. They barrel down the hill, dive into the water and proceed to frolic in the naturally enclosed area, safe for them to be off lead. Every morning we complete this ritual, surprised that no one else has found this spot.

Until someone stopped us and said, “You know, you’re not supposed to go down there.” Ah, that’s right, that’s why no one else takes their dogs for a swim. I remember this guy now, the good citizen who feels compelled to tell the world what they’re not-supposed-to, one of those that make up only a small portion of the population, but seem to ruin everyone’s fun. Was there a reason? Nope, just not-supposed-to, and by the sound of it, this man was quite bothered by our apparent rule breaking.

My husband and I have had our touches with absurd rule following before. Once, we spent a day floating in Seattle’s Puget Sound on a $40 inflatable raft, a definite not-supposed-to, but insisted on buying $30 life jackets, that we didn’t just have in the boat, but wore for the entire time. Looking back, it seems absurd, us floating in the Sound with our two little paddles, easily picked up by a current if we were unlucky, but being very good boy scouts with out life jackets on and buckled. Why did we feel compelled to be both reckless and overly cautious? There’s no way to know.

We are not above following silly made up rules, especially those that offer the illusion of safety, but after traveling for a while, I can’t help but feel much more laisez-faire about what we should be doing (or not).

Perhaps it’s the months spent trying to decipher travel options in foreign countries, or seeing markets with unrefrigerated meats or watching 6 year olds throw firecrackers at each other– you stop believing what you’re told, you start believing that most things are fine and you realize that even unsafe things rarely end in tragedy.

I call it the “probably everything will be okay, because most of the time stuff works out” theory of the universe.

Some people just call it, “common sense”.

So when this young man, blustery and indignant, tells me my dogs are big old rule breakers, I have to try not to laugh. Really, is this country like this, I wonder? Has it really gotten to the point, where the hall monitors are in charge? Or is it just a few, making sure that dogs are only in dog parks and people in people parks. A compulsion for order expressed in a fetish for land use categorization.

Or does being away from home make me forget the social contract? Did I care? Not really. In the end, my dogs had the most lovely swim this morning. Ah, it’s good to be back home.

Introducing  Work Wirelessly: The Job Board for the Digital Nomad

I’ve added this new job search page to Almost Fearless in the hopes it will help all my fellow digital nomads find online jobs and assignments from the big job sites.  The search lists all job postings from:

• Monster.com
• Hotjobs.com
• Craiglist.org (317 cities)
• ProBlogger.net
• Dice.com

I’ve brought all of these sites together and then filtered them to include only jobs labeled, categorized or described as Telecommuting, Work from Home or 100% remote.

One search, all sites.

So go, check it out.  It’s not perfect!  Craigslist’s users seem to think telecommute is a type of cell phone with the way they over use it, but hopefully despite the occasional faulty entry, it’s still useful.

I definitely want your feedback, as I’m sure there will be tweaks in the weeks to come and a V 2.0 this fall.

Happy searching…

Though I knew that poverty certainly didn’t buy happiness, I wasn’t convinced that money did either.

He talks about the process as he went through as he left NYC to live a simple life in Japan. But scrolling through the comments, I kept seeing the same things I had heard when I started telling people I wanted to travel (albeit not in such numbers). “Must be nice,” or “Not everyone can afford to just pick up and leave,” or my favorite, “I have a huge house and lots of things and I am so happy (so clearly you are wrong)”.

It’s no comfort to know that even a beautifully written piece by one of the most respected travel writers in the world still catches the author some flack. Was he being smug? Is describing your life the same as advocating for others to change? Is the idea of simplicity somehow an affront to people who can’t afford to be wasteful?

The next day, the NY Times editors posted a response, Simplicity at a Price, which quoted a handful of the hundreds of comments his piece gained in the first 24 hours online. The comments they chose were mostly balanced, but below, the comments section roared to life again.

Why is it that when someone has the courage to try a different way of living, there are always people lining up to tear it down? I think it’s several reasons:

1. The word “happy” is a strong trigger. Is it the self-help books or a need for constant self-improvement that causes us to latch onto the word “happy” like pitbulls? Have we been conditioned to believe that happiness is a single path that can be reproduced for the millions? Perhaps instead of trying to figure out why his path wouldn’t work for us, we could consider what our personal “Japan” would be. It’s not about his sparse home in the countryside or lack of internet access. It’s about what works for him, and his commitment to those values.

2. America is #1. Which America is that? In the cities? In a red state? In the countryside? On the beach? Even within our own country, there are countless opportunities for living very different lifestyles. We don’t get offended when someone says they prefer Seattle over Boston, it’s just a personal preference. There’s no difference when you move abroad, the flight’s just longer (usually).

3. “It would be nice to travel, but…” I’m sure Pico Iyer made plenty of personal sacrifices to attain his ideal lifestyle. Someone didn’t hand him a court summons one day that read, “Please report to Japan. Here are your documents and the funds you’ll need. Someone will be waiting for you and your new life when you arrive in Toyko.” So when people say they’d like to travel, but don’t actually make any plans or changes to make that happen, I know they fall under the “I like to think about traveling one day” group. I lived in that group for a long time. You can graduate, if you want. But in the meantime, let’s not pretend that travel is something that is handed to a few lucky people and you’re just waiting for your envelope.

4. I have responsibilities! While I don’t know Pico Iyer, I suspect he has some too. We all do. Yet, there are families that travel with their young kids, folks who sell their house or scrimp and save to pay off debt. Deciding to live overseas or travel isn’t a switch you flip, but rather a long path beginning with much smaller decisions. Do I want to travel? How long is enough? Where would I go? First comes the dream, then the untangling the responsibilities.

5. Absolutely everything is out of my control. Yes it is. You just gave it away.

So the next time someone gives you a hard time or snidely remarks, “must be nice…” just think of Pico Iyer, shake it off and say, “Yes, it is. I’m so happy.”

“Once the travel bug bites, there is no known antidote, and I know that I shall be happily infected until the end of my life.”
~Michael Palin (English comedian and prolific travel documentary producer)

If you’re like most travelers, when you find yourself back home, you’re itching for the vagabond life. Whether it’s scouring Netflix for obscure Mongolian documentaries, or indulging in whatever ethnic cuisine you can find (Indian food, anyone?), your odd behaviors may cause others to feel a little, well, weirded out.

My advice? Avoid the expensive cheese fetish and stop eating Moroccan stew with your hands. Kick back, relax, and snuggle up to a foreign film. From Japan to India, these titles are classic, guaranteed to interest even the most philistine of companions.

Don’t forget the popcorn.

Amélie
Language: French
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet
Year: 2001

Synopsis: Amélie, a young waitress in central Paris, devotes her life to helping a cast of quirky personalities around her.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because it’s artsy, it’s beautiful, because it epitomizes how wonderfully unique the French film industry can be. Because anyone who took French in high school has already seen it.

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sECzJY07oK4

The Motorcycle Diaries / Diarios de Motocicleta
Language: Spanish
Director:Walter Salles
Year: 2004

Synopsis: The story of Ernesto Che Guevara as he takes an unforgettable motorcycle ride across Latin America.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because it’s a true story. Because of the Latin American scenery. Because of the poetic narration.

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7u0U3dbVMHk

Ong Bak
Language: Thai
Director: Prachya Pinkaew
Year: 2003

Synopsis: Young Ting, a Thai villager, heads to Bangkok in search of his village’s missing buddha statue. Along the way, he gets mixed up with a gang. Of course…it’s a martial arts movie.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because the first tree-climbing scene is breathtaking. Because Bangkok cinematorgraphy is wild. Because Muay Thai is kickass.

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtNmH1KuJaA

Billy Elliot
Language: English
Director: Stephen Daldry
Year: 2000

Synopsis: It’s 1984 in a northern England mining town, and against the wishes of brother and father, who are both on a miner’s strike, Billy stumbles out of the boxing ring and onto a ballet floor

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because of the British dialect. Because it’s hilarious. Because guys can dance ballet too!

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoiVEyCosEE

La Haine
Language: French
Director: Mathieu Kassovitz
Year: 1995

Synopsis: Over a 24-hour span, a Jew, an Arab, and a black boxer chance upon a stolen gun and romp around the French suburbs.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because you’ll learn about life in the banlieu (ghetto). Because it’s raw and real and intense. Because the dialog covers just about every French slang word there is.

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yk77VrkxL88

Pan’s Labyrinth / El laberinto del fauno
Language: Spanish
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Year: 2006

Synopsis: During the Spanish Civil War, bookish and imaginative Ophelia is sent with her mom to live with their new stepfather, a ruthless captain in the Spanish Army. Fantasy and reality blend together as Ophelia is sent on a quest to prove that she’s a princess.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because the historical setting is very well done. Because the faun’s croaking is creepy. Because it’s simply a beautiful film.

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqYiSlkvRuw

Beat the Drum
Language: English/Zulu
Director: David Hickson
Year: 2003

Synopsis: A mysterious illness strikes a KwaZulu Natal village, and newly orphaned Musa sets out for Johannesberg looking for his uncle.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because you see a glimpse of both rural and urban Africa. Because of the Johannesberg city shots. Because it has a happy ending.

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyVyDIZy5WI

Spirited Away / Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi
Language: Japanese
Director: Hayao Miyazaki
Year: 2001

Synopsis: Chihiro and her parents stumble upon an abandoned theme park, but by the time young Haku warns Chihiro to leave before nightfall, it’s too late.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because if you’ve never seen an anime movie, this is a perfect first. Because it’s like a darker, more fantastical Disney movie. Because all of Miyazaki’s films are epic.

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6az9wGfeSgM

Rang De Basanti
Language: Hindi
Director: Rakesh Omprakash Mehra
Year: 2006

Synopsis: A young UK graduate is shooting a documentary about Indian freedom fighters and enlists the help of 5 New Delhi graduates after her original crew doesn’t show up. As they become more involved in the film, the graduates become more and more like the freedom fighters themselves as materialism and self-centeredness give way to spirit and revolution.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because the graduates’ lives represent the youth of today so well. Because the songs are superb. Because it’s Bollywood baby!

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AK28V4FjqMc&

City of God / Cidade de Deus
Language: Portuguese
Director: Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund
Year: 2002

Synopsis: In the dangerous slums of Rio de Janeiro, drug abuse and violent crime are common place. Two boys take two different paths, one struggling to free himself from the slum’s grasps as a professional photographer.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because it’s based on a true story. Because the story is incredibly written. Because the directors are geniuses (Yep, that good).

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioUE_5wpg_E

L’Auberge Espagnole
Language: French
Director: Cédric Klapisch
Year: 2002

Synopsis: Xavier, a straight-laced French student, moves to Barcelona to learn Spanish. His roommates are a melting pot of both cultures and personalities, and through their adventures, Xavier learns about life.

Why It’s Worth Watching: Because of the international dialog and cultural nuances. Because it’s introspective. Because it’s my favorite foreign film…

Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCs6AzLeNQI

About Alan:

Alan Perlman travels the world as a cost-of-living surveyor and writes about travel, lifestyle design, and entrepreneurship on his personal blog, The 9 to 5 Alternative. You can also follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/alanperlman.

Granada, Nicaragua is so cute, you could put it in your pocket. If the cobblestone streets, Spanish colonial style-housing and creeping blossoms peaking from behind courtyard walls weren’t enough, take their cab drivers. There was the kindly older man who followed us in his cab to make sure we followed his directions to the hostel correctly, even looping around the block to avoid the one-way street and catch up with us again. As we approached, he honked his horn and pointed emphatically at the building. Or consider the young man with the big belt buckle that drove us to our ferry to Isla Ometepe, who insisted on parking his car and helping us carry our bags all the way to the ferry, a good city block away. Or even the guy that chatted with us during dinner and then complimented my Spanish as being, “very good”. To a Spanish student, there are no sweeter words.

So adorable, accessible and friendly was Granada, that my husband and I quickly began hatching some long term plans. Over scrambled eggs in the town square, while live music played and families walked in the shade, we sipped our coffees and calculated how much a modest home would cost.

But our ruminations only lasted as long as breakfast. We were heading north, planning on landing in Guatemala eventually to return to the language school I visited last December.

At the time, I was working on several projects. The National Travel Writing Month, both facilitating the group and also participating in the challenge. I put together an application packet for a guidebook. I wrote a 20 page short story for a six week writing workshop. I applied for an editor position at a large website. I workshopped my writing and wrote critiques for dozens of other writers. I scoured the hostel lending library and read a new book every other day.

So when I tell you the next city in our travels, Leon, Nicaragua was beautiful and worth seeing, understand that my observations were merely intellectual. I don’t have any stories about meeting kind strangers or tasting fantastic new foods. I became extremely focused in those two weeks, absorbed in finishing my projects. We went out to dinners, but afterward, I’d hole up with my laptop, the glow of the monitor illuminating my face, as my husband slept beside me.

That week we found cheap airline tickets (about the same price as busing it) from Managua to Guatemala. We rented an apartment and enrolled in language school. This was my old stomping grounds, Quetzaltenango. One of my favorite things about travel is getting to share a place with someone else, who’s never seen it before. I was pleased that my husband seemed to love it in Xela as much as I did. The air here was crisp, more like a rainy autumn that the dry heat of Nicaragua. Each day we’d walk to the open air market and pick out ingredients for our dinner. I had submitted all of my projects, so with some relief, I took comfort in the daily routine. Language classes in the morning. Cooking a lunch of tortillas, black beans, queso fresco and home made salsa picante in the afternoon. In the evening we’d marvel at the apartment’s 180 views of the city, as the hushed cityscape was dotted with the lights of thousands of homes, flickering on the mountain side.

We had planned on heading to El Salvador, then Honduras next, but at the last moment, decided to head back home instead. My husband would take the comedy sketch writing class in NYC that he had been considering (as an animator, he has many projects of his own). I would start again and commit to finishing the book proposal that had been sitting on my hard drive. I had a new project. It felt good.

We flew into the US about two weeks ago and rented an apartment in Northampton, MA with our dogs. $600/mo studio was more than we wanted to spend, but the short term lease and location were too good to pass up. If you need to spend the summer somewhere, Western MA is a fantastic place to go. The weather is perfect, there’s hiking and ponds to swim in, the college students are gone, but the fabulous restaurants are still open.

And today, I’m sitting in my studio, writing at my desk, without internet. I just updated this site’s design over the weekend and I hope it holds. It’s too nice in here, in my little space, even if I am offline. There are floor to ceiling windows beside me and I can see the hills of the pioneer valley. My dogs are sleeping on the bed, exhausted from this morning’s run. Last week, I bought a cheap world map and tacked it to the wall above my desk, and I’ve learned that Antarctica has it’s own flag. And Kazakhstan is really big. I think this will be a very good summer.

We know this, because the attorney, recognizing the danger he was in by representing the family of a man and daughter also allegedly murdered by the president, had made a video. Rosenberg sits in front of the camera and begins, just three days before his death, “If you are watching this message, it is because I was assassinated by President Alvaro Colom.”

Meanwhile, as the international media lightly reported on the deaths, Guatemalan bloggers and twitterers were alight. If you wanted to see the video, it was easier to find on YouTube than CNN. If you wanted to find out how the Guatemalans felt (furious, in a word) then it was easier to twitter search the attorney’s name than read the bare bones accounting by AP.

The video:

Then a vocal Guatemalan posted some things on Twitter that the government didn’t like: urging people to remove funds from the bank associated with the scandal. The man was sent to prison. A groundswell of grassroots and more importantly online support helped him get released (including raising his bail and an online petition). Moments after leaving the prison, he twittered again.

That’s an incredibly powerful tool. Who knew that the fad micro-blogging platform known as Twitter, with it’s 140 character per post restrictions would become the platform for citizen journalism around the world.

(This picture is by Faramarz, who has more pics of the Iranian Election Protests on Flickr).

Last night, after the Iranian elections and the protests that followed, all foreign journalists embedded in the country were forbidden to cover the events on the street. If you wanted to find out what was happening in Iran, again the international media had their hands tied. But Twitter became the de facto reporting source. The hash tag (a way of tagging posts for a certain topic) #Iranelection became the most popular tag on Twitter. People from around the world started opening their computers as Proxy IPs, allowing Iranian bloggers (who are otherwise blocked from the site) to bypass the firewall and continue to post live reporting.

In fact, Twitter had a scheduled downtime last night, that they had to reschedule, because they are so important in reporting the events in Iran.

If Twitter went down for a few hours it would have an impact on live reporting. Think about that.

Two months ago, Ashton Kutcher, the actor from That 70s Show, challenged CNN to a race to 1 million followers. He won. More people wanted to know what Ashton had to say than CNN. That’s the power of celebrity. Ashton claimed this was the changing of the guard, from old media to new media. At the time, I scoffed at this assertion, clearly Demi Moore’s husband is more popular than Larry King, especially with the younger generation that is more likely to use Twitter.

But Ashton was right. Not because he won, but because of Guatemala. Because of Iran. Because of the world population that can’t rely on traditional media to tell their stories.

Because last night and this morning, I checked Twitter before I checked CNN.

There is a phrase circulating the web right now: Cyber War. Boing Boing reports that the Iranian government is setting up fake twitter accounts to post fabricated accounts. Iran is searching for proxy IPs and blocking them as they are set up to try to stem the flood of on the street reporting. Fighting against this, people outside of Iran are setting their location as Tehran to prevent Iranian officials from finding and tracing real sources. Folks are setting up more and more proxy IPs. Videos and messages are being spread person to person virally, faster than could ever be stopped.  Right now, there’s a war over information and Twitter is winning.

The reality is, each one of these Iranian bloggers are putting themselves in personal danger. If you want to help, Boing Boing offers these suggestions (full text here):

1. Do NOT publicise proxy IP’s over twitter, and especially not using the #iranelection hashtag.
2. Hashtags, the only two legitimate hashtags being used by bloggers in Iran are #iranelection and #gr88, other hashtag ideas run the risk of diluting the conversation.
3. Keep you bull$hit filter up! Security forces are now setting up twitter accounts to spread disinformation by posing as Iranian protesters.
4. Help cover the bloggers: change your twitter settings so that your location is TEHRAN and your time zone is GMT +3.30.
5. Don’t blow their cover! If you discover a genuine source, please don’t publicise their name or location on a website.

Also:

• The Huffington Post has collected Iran Updates: Live-Blogging the Uprising.
• The Facebook Group: I Support the Iranian Election Freedom Movement
• Twitter’s impact on reporting events in Iran
• Twitter proves it’s worth during Iran protests.
• My Twitter account: Almost Fearless

Today, we are all Iranian.

If I close my eyes and focus, I can nearly picture it– me in heels and a suit, rolling a suitcase behind me, laptop bag over one shoulder, trying to hail a cab and text on my blackberry at the same time. It’s strange, but the most visceral memory of those years is the physical sensation I carried with me: the uneasy stomach, anxiety tightening my chest, tired and heavy shoulders and worse– the excruciating boredom. The rest has faded, except short clips I can’t associate to any one moment, but more like a montage of my former life. There’s me, sitting on a conference call and catching myself fading away, cut to me trying not to fidget or stand up and throw something during 3 hour long staff meetings, cut to me sitting in my silent office and dreading all the stuff-I-don’t-want-to-do.

And that was it. The thing I remember most is that feeling of unease. Not the perks or business travel or the projects or the swell vacations. Just the feeling of wanting to crawl out of my skin, but forcing myself to bear it, because, well, that’s what you do. And eventually it gets better, right?

Yes. It does. If you blow it all up.

So I did. A year ago, I quit my job, and decided I was a writer, which by the way, is super easy to say but quite difficult to actually do, and caught the first plane to Madrid. I traveled, learned Spanish, learned how to surf, took salsa lessons, learned how to make typical Guatemalan food from scratch, and slept in late.

I wrote enough words on this blog that if it was book form it would be longer than most bestsellers.

Whatever it was that wore me down only a year ago, call it malaise, boredom, or depression– it’s gone. It’s been gone for awhile now, but at this one-year anniversary, looking back, I suddenly remembered– hey, I didn’t always feel so… light.

Back then, I had always wondered what it would be like in a year from now. I understand now, why anything I read at the time failed to construct that feeling for me. It’s hard to describe. It’s not a lack of ambition, I still have high standards for myself, but I’m letting it unfold naturally instead of forcing it. It’s not a lack of work, I write and read nearly constantly. But there is a balance– I’m not replaying the day’s work for the rest of the evening over a martini while I sulk. It’s not even the travel, although it fits me so well, I love the change and challenge of it, but if I had the same attitude, I could be happy anywhere. It’s a way of seeing things. Travel makes you easily charmed, whether it’s seeing how English words are translated or the way kids act or the way food is prepared, you get used to being surprised or curiously delighted. You appreciate things, especially the details.

It’s not happiness, exactly. No, it’s closer to being relaxed, open, allowing things to happen. Spending 12 hours on a crowded bus is still uncomfortable, but you bear it better. You’re not grinning like a madman, but you do laugh more. When the bank won’t change your currency and you’re nearly broke, you shrug and figure out a way around it. You get used to not having control, you learn to live with that. You can’t speak the language, you have no idea where anything is, you don’t know the correct custom, you don’t know the proper price, so you let it go.

And then, the habit, becomes routine.

So now a year later, a few questions answered:

Will you keep traveling? Yes. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever live full time in the US again. Although I do admit, I am catching thoughts of semi-permanent housing creeping in. Perhaps a modest home in southern Spain for the winter? A spring cabin in Central America, an hours drive from the beach so we can surf during the day and retreat to the mountain side and watch the monkeys from our verdana while they climb the mango trees? Summering in our Croatian apartment? Christmas in a Thailand bungalow? Could we be quad-coastal? Three months in 4 different homes? How fast could we save for the tiniest of places in each location?

Where will you go next? Well, so far I’ve covered some of Europe and most of Central America. I’d love a big change of pace, so I’m eyeing up Asia and Africa in the next year.

Where you able to make a living? Yes. But not in the ways I thought. It ended up being a very eclectic mix of work: some writing assignments for magazines/other sites, this blog, photography commissions, freelance writing for commercial clients and so on. There was no one stream of income, as I had anticipated. Somewhat naively, I assumed I’d be making more of my living from writing travel articles for the glossy travel pubs. But in the last year, the industry has changed, and even in my short time in it, I’ve noticed a huge difference. Editors that used to respond to me, have disappeared. Publications are closing. The only thing that has increased is the number of “travel writing” workshops, which promise a fast buck writing and traveling the world. I’m optimistic that the hard work I put in now, will pay off later when the industry invariably rebounds (right around the time when the economy rebounds and advertisers are looking to place ads again) but in the meantime, I am diversified.

What would you do differently? Nothing. Oh there are little things, like stay longer in this place or avoid doing that, but I wouldn’t have known that until, I did it the wrong way. Things have worked out incredibly smoothly, although one thing I’d caution against: microwaving a cup of water to boiling (but not boiling for 2 minutes) in a country with unsafe drinking water is probably a bad idea. It was the only time I got truly sick. Like, oh my god, I am going to die, kind of sick. Thankfully, this same country has great pharmacies with over the counter cures for almost anything.

How’s the internet? I’d love to write a book on this, because there is an art to finding good internet almost anywhere, and you’d surprised how a tiny cafe in Guatemala can have a scorching fast internet speed (almost 3X faster than my connection at home) and yet find nothing in a certain US airport. The bottom line: I was able to get internet everywhere I went, with only very minor exceptions. So if you’re looking to work overseas and travel, getting online may be an occasional hassle, but never impossible.

Are you still going to blog? Yes. Although, I’ve spent some time thinking about this, because, as with all things, this blog grew organically. It started basically enough: I’m going to quit my job and travel the world. Then I told you about it. But as it has grown, I haven’t taken a look at where I want to be now. Is this just about my travels? What’s the most useful information for other people? Where’s the most value? So this summer, I’m making it a goal to start looking at those things and the feedback from everyone to see if there are any shifts I need to make.

Any advice for someone thinking about doing the same thing? The biggest illusion in life is that you have control and that by staying your current course you are preventing bad things from happening to you. The second biggest illusion is that money, career-status, community-status, following the rules and having stuff is the defacto route to happiness. But without personal experience, I know these things don’t ring true– yet. My best advice is to keep looking for the answer, and slowly over time, it will reveal itself to you. And then you’ll feel it, and you’ll know what to do.

A year of travels down, many more left to go…

It’s been on my must see list ever since.

We booked a room in Granada, our first stop in Nicaragua, but before getting too comfortable, we took the shuttle south to San Jorge, where we could catch the ferry to the island.  It was standing room only, and everyone was pressed against the rails as we disembarked.  We managed a spot on the second floor, a fact we would soon find out that makes no difference.

The ferry just goes.  The waves are choppy and the ferry cuts through them losing no speed.  The boat dips, crests a wave, then crashes down again and no one takes their foot off the gas.  Within in moments, the ferry plowed through a large wave and the spray reach the top levels.  We’re soaked.  The folks on the floor below us are scrambling for covered.  They look like they just got back from a water park.

As travelers we have everything we own with us.  It would take days for my books to dry out.  Thankfully we packed our laptops in such a way they couldn’t get wet.  They were the only things.

We booked a place on the smaller of the two volcanoes, just an hour car ride away, which is misleading because the rough roads kept our speed to 5-10 mph the entire trip.  It’s quiet here at 7 pm.  Just the sound of us shuffling along the dirt road and the din of cicadas surround us.  Thankfully the hotel offers a dinner buffet, nothing else is open.  We’re here.  In the middle of Lake Nicaragua in the most untouched location I’ve been in for a long time.  It’s so peaceful you can feel it, like it has it’s own sensation.  It’s not uncommon to be caught in a reverie here.  To stop talking and slip away and let yourself examine the quiet.

In fact, if I could honeymoon again, this is where I’d do it.  Our rooms even look ready for the event, with crisp white sheets, a gossamer mosquito net draped tastefully, and our towels folded into swans with fresh picked flowers.  On our second floor bungalow, you can see the lake and enjoy the breeze on our personal hammock.  All of this for $28/night.  Blissed.

We stayed for four days.  We took long walks.  Ran into horses and chickens that roam the island.  Counted geckos from the hammock.  Looked for those sharks in the water off the end of a pier.  Kayaked.  Hiked.  Ate sandwiches with fresh made bread.

It felt like we did so much, but we missed a lot too… like climbing to the hot springs at the top of the volcano, or diving off the waterfalls or horseback riding or camping… much to still see if we return.

On the last day we explored Monkey Island.  Not on foot, no, we were warned that the monkeys don’t take kindly to visitors– instead gliding along the edge of the island, on our kayak, taking pictures.  Someone brings fresh fruit and rough grains to feed the monkeys. We spied a family of three, the baby monkey the most curious about us, jumping from limb to limb to get a little closer. Maybe too close. This was the highlight of the trip, sitting in that kayak, watching the monkeys. Until the mom-monkey charged at us. And I thought for sure I was going to be monkey-dinner. I was taking video at the time, but what you miss right after I drop the camera is the monkey jumping to the last branch about an arms length from me and barring it’s sharp little teeth at me, while I wave my kayak paddle in the air because, well, I thought the monkey might jump on my head. Yes, true story. But there’s video! Ha! Enjoy.

I spent two weeks in Tamarindo. It was my last stop in Costa Rica, before I headed north to Nicaragua. The hostel was perfect. La Botella de Leche has it all: offbeat décor (think cows everywhere), open air seating, a full kitchen, and an owner who you want to get to know (a women from Argentina, who would have lunch with you, or let you borrow a surf board). I was stretching my time here. I loved seeing Costa Rica and I had come to a conclusion: it would never be like this again.

You travel to expand your world. Instead you shrink it. Relative distances get smaller. Countries that were a vague concept are now clearly defined. You know the major bus routes. You know what to expect in certain cities. You have climbed the hill and know what is on the other side.

Before my travels in Central America, my mental image was so different. It feels smaller now. It’s safer than many major US cities. It has it’s wonderful parts and it’s ugly sides too. But the feeling consuming me in the last few weeks in Costa Rica was pre-emptive nostalgia. It would never be as exciting to be in Puerto Viejo, as the first time, when I saw the massive waves and churning sea. I would probably never spend time in San Jose again. Or Jaco. I won’t be able to surf for the first time in Mal Pais or meet the same people.

If I do return, it will always be a comparison. Fresh, New, Exciting– I’ve used those things up.

On a larger scale, I worry about these things. It probably seems weird, for someone who has traveled to 16 countries in the last year, to be concerned that she will run out. But the truth is, one day I will. The world is finite. And for me, it’s getting smaller all the time.

So I’ve started hoarding places. One of my first dream locations, the most exotic place I could think of in those days, is Thailand. I’m saving it. India. Easter Island. The Galapagos. Morocco. I will go, but not yet. I burned through Paris, Rome, Barcelona, Belize, Panama. As much as I want to see everything, I’m slowly becoming aware that the excitement of the unknown is as large a part of my impetuous to travel as actually being there.

Is that why world travelers continue to find more and more obscure locations? Do they forever chase the thrill of seeing something for the first time? If you travel long term, perhaps you have had a similar feeling. You’re in a new city and two weeks in, you still like it, but you’re ready for the next thing. It’s time to go. Where does it end?

For most people, it ends when the trip does. One year later, a few pounds lighter and broke, they return home, slightly burned out from living in their backpack. They travel for the rest of their lives, but usually never for a year again. In two weeks a year, it’s almost impossible to see everything. But what if you don’t stop?

As they say, this is a ‘quality problem‘. I am aware.

In Tamarindo, I tried to make mental snapshops. The guy on the beach who talked to me for an hour while my husband surfed. He was from Nicaragua, but wanted to live in Texas. The way the rice and beans taste slightly seasoned here. The dusty road and iguanas that peek out from the brush. The fat limes that drop on the hostel roof with a loud thud. Talking to a kid from Holland, who did impressions of American actors. The snowboarder from Montreal who wanted Quebec to form their own country. Making homemade guacamole for everyone in the hostel. Little things, yes. But it’s the best I can do. Appreciate now, travel as slow as I can bear, and while it won’t last, and it’ll never be the same, I still have right now.

Here’s how it works.  You travel Central America for a few months, grow weary of street vendor come-ons and a hostel bunk bed for one, then in a fit of desperation you send off the email.  Come here, now.  And he does.

Who knew all I had to do was ask?

It took some finagling.  He had been helping his dad with with the house in Vermont.  They didn’t sell it.  But they did find a family to rent it.  The dogs?  Well, in order to travel on short notice, and to have the flexibility we needed, they are staying with the in-laws until July.  And my husband?  After far too long apart, he has finally joined me in Costa Rica.

Just like ordering a husband online, except less expensive and he doesn’t need a green card.  Oh and we’ve already been married for five years.  How sweet is that?

So I’ve gotten to share some of my favorite parts of Costa Rica and he’s gotten to work on his surfing.

Besides the obvious benefits of having my spouse with me (like how awesome it is, verses say, not), there are some things I’d either forgotten or didn’t know.

It’s much cheaper to travel as two, if you calculate the per person cost.  For the same price as two dorm beds, we get a private room.  When you grocery shop for two, the prices for staples (like oil, salt, pepper, spices etc) get split too.  Even when we take a shuttle, the price is lower (in some cases) than if I traveled alone.

Traveling with someone is completely different than traveling alone.  And that’s not always a good thing.  When it’s just me, I have many more adventures (read: get myself into trouble).  I also tend to meet more people.  I don’t know if we put out the “we’re a couple leave us alone” vibe, but it’s been a lot less social.  We still meet people, but if anyone is afraid traveling alone is lonely, I actually find it to be about 10X more social.

I tend to want to travel even slower. I have no idea why this is, but I’m more likely to stay in a place with my husband than if I traveled alone.  Perhaps it’s because it’s less boring.  If nothing’s happening, I’m perfectly content sitting on the beach and reading a book for a few days, if I have good company.  Which, I now do.

I speak Spanish less. This is due to two things.  First, my husband doesn’t speak it very well, so when someone comes and chats us up in Spanish, he’s left clueless for the next hour.  I try to translate as we go, but it doesn’t always work well.  The other thing is that I want him to learn!  So if we’re speaking Spanish to get directions or a reservation, I’ll sit back and let him work it out.  I could jump in and handle it, but he’ll never learn that way.

I eat more. I had forgotten this!  Three meals a day.  Right.  Not coffee, snack, fruit, something from a street vendor.  Those aren’t meals, after all.  When you’re traveling solo, what’s the point of making a big meal?  And now that he’s back, all I do is cook!  Who’s making guacamole from scratch in the kitchen?  Me.  Who is cooking enough pasta to choke a horse?  Me.  Who’s made a traditional Tico breakfast, including fried plaintains?  Sorry, my man’s gotta eat!

I remember why I do all this. I love traveling, but I really love sharing it with someone.  I’d been trying to describe my life here, but as soon as he came, he was amazed.  He loves it.  I’m like, yeah, I know.

It’s been a good week.