Life

when everything has changed
Life, REMOTE YEAR

Finding your way back when everything has changed

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It’s been over month since my last blog (thank you to those who have asked if you’re still on my list – it’s nice to know I’ve been missed and you enjoy reading my blogs!) So, it’s time to dust myself off and share where I’m at.   First, let me say a huge, heart-felt thank you. The outpouring of love from my last post was unbelievable!   It was hard to share how I was feeling but I realized so many people are dealing with similar challenges. Being honest about what’s going on for us and supporting each other is even more important now, as I realize how many people are silently struggling.   Overall, life is good. I have good days, I have bad days but the good days are lasting longer and longer.   On the bad days, I drive to the cemetery and have a big cry (no one questions a crying person there).   One afternoon, I sat there with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and realized that I had stopped taking care of me. All of the habits and routines I created to make sure I was at my best had fallen to the wayside, forgotten.   Why do we stop doing the things that make us feel better when we so desperately need to feel better?   So, I’ve gone back to the basics of extreme self-care and here’s what’s worked for me:   Talk about it.   I’ve reached out to my fellow Remote Year travellers and realized I’m not alone.   Sharing our stories, remembering our adventures, wondering about our next steps, reminded me that we’re in this together. We understand each other and are here to lift and support in every way.   I’ve also talked with family and friends – deep conversations over wine, around a campfire, with a mug of tea, strolling along the water.   The questions I’m asking are similar to what they’re asking – is this it?   Is this what I want to do with my one, wild and crazy life? And if not, what steps can I take today to move closer to what I really want?   Shift perspective.   When I returned to my job, I felt claustrophobic. My office has four walls and door but no windows or natural light.   The feeling of being trapped caused my heart to race and I realized that I had spent every single day outside for the past year. Of course I’d feel anxious staying indoors for eight hours each day!   Although I hoped working from home would help ease the transition, my company wasn’t supportive and I continued to fall into a depression at the office.   I realized I was isolating myself and that only made things worse so I decided to find something good about working in an office. And the answer was right there – the people.   I reached out to my colleagues and made a conscious effort to strike up conversations, linger in the lunch room and get involved. Slowly, the days began to feel more bearable.   Gratitude.   For the past five years, I’ve faithful maintained a gratitude practice. It was something I learned at a retreat in Bali and it changed my life. (Thanks Carmen – www.carmenmarshallretreats.com)   Every morning, before I open my eyes and dive into the day, I take a few moments to lie there and plan out my day.   I visualize all the details – people I will meet, things I will say, how I want to feel, where I will enjoy lunch, even how smoothly traffic will flow. Then I say “thank you” as my feet touch the ground and my day begins.   Every night before I fall asleep, I review the day and rewrite anything that didn’t go how I wanted it to (our mind can’t tell the difference between “reality” and “imagination” so why not fall asleep remembering things how you wanted them to be?!)   Then I hold up my hands and count down ten things I’m grateful for that day.   Sometimes I don’t get to ten before I fall asleep and other nights I list 20 things. Either way, I fall asleep in a state of gratitude.   Keep it fresh.   After the thrill of exploring a new city or country every month, coming home can feel a little boring. But I’ve been trying to find new ways to appreciate my town.   I drive a different route every time I go somewhere, checking out new neighborhoods and businesses along the way.   I keep a beach blanket in the car and stop in random parks to enjoy the view, read a book or just soak up some sunshine.   And I’m learning to be open to new opportunities, no matter how strange they seem at first.   (I’ve started dating but that’s a completely different blog topic – “10 true first date stories that will make you appreciate your significant other”!)   I’m going to new events, talking to strangers and spending time outside. All of these things keep my mind fresh and help me from slipping back into routine.   The key is to keep your brain guessing about what’s happening next!   What’s next?   I’ve listed my condo for sale and I’m so excited for the next phase!   I love my condo, it’s beautiful and was exactly what I was looking for before I left on Remote Year. But now I’m back and I’ve changed – it simply doesn’t fit me anymore.   Selling my home allows me to pay off debts, establish a nest egg, and be flexible to embrace opportunities as they arise.   I see myself house-sitting a lovely home on the lake over the fall/winter and then who knows what the spring will bring.   As I’ve always believed, life is a daring adventure or nothing at all!    

Kelowna
Life, REMOTE YEAR

What they don’t tell you about coming home

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I’ve traveled lots, usually in six-week time frames, and it was always hard to get back in the swing of things – to set an alarm, to commute to the office, to reconcile what you’ve seen with where you live.   So I imagined it would be the same after coming home from a year of travel, perhaps a little bumpy at first but things would smooth out.   But they haven’t.   I’ve struggled with whether or not I should share what I’m going through because I don’t want people to think it’s something they said or didn’t say, they did or didn’t do, and I don’t want to appear ungrateful for the amazing life I live.   However, I’ve spent a year being vulnerable and writing about how I feel, and I don’t want to stop simply because I’m home and it’s hard.   Coming home after an extended time away is much harder than I expected. There’s the excitement of seeing family and friends, the joy of discovering the changes in your hometown, the bliss of snuggling into your own bed.   But there is also the loneliness of being separated from the people I just spent a year traveling with. There’s the isolation of having no one understand what you’ve been through, no one who relates to the range of emotions rolling under the surface.   I feel sad and yet I don’t know how to express it or even if should express it. I worry that people will think I’m ungrateful for the experience and I should be happy to be home.   And I am happy to see my family and friends but there’s also this huge hole – a space that was filled with 45 people that shared every day with me. A freedom of living life on our terms. An excitement of chasing whatever dreams caught our eye.   We held each other through the loss of family members, pets and careers; we nursed each other’s broken hearts, broken bones and upset stomachs; we celebrated new loves, new jobs and overcoming fears; we stayed up all night talking about what happens next, what scares us, what makes us feel alive.   We also did the mundane tasks of normal life – we shopped for groceries, we took out the garbage, we paid our bills.   It wasn’t a vacation, we were simply living our life in another city.   Only my closest friends, who have known me for years, can see that something has changed, that I’m not the same, that I’m struggling with being home.   I feel like I’m living in two worlds, straddling the dimensions and not sure where I belong.   I don’t fit back into my old life – I’ve been stretched, expanded, tested and grown. It’s simply not possible to come back and carry on as if nothing has changed – when truly everything has changed.   The hard part is that all that change is on the inside and you have to look closely to see it.   One friend said my eyes have changed, the color, the depth. Yes, they have – because of what I’ve seen this year.   Another friend said she feels like she has part of her back that she didn’t really know had been missing.   This is so beautiful.   Yes, I am loved. I am so loved and blessed.   Which is why I struggle with this transition.   Why am I not more excited to be home? Why can’t I find my footing? Why do I drive down familiar streets feeling completely detached? Why do I want to cry but have no idea why?   People ask me how it was or what my favourite part was or if I’m glad to be home – and I don’t know how to answer. A quick response or even a few minutes can’t begin to explain everything I’ve seen and learned, nor the unsettled state my emotions are in.   I usually gloss over most of it – say it was great, such a good year, not without its challenges but I’m glad to be home – and I move on.   But my stomach is in my throat. I feel sweaty and anxious, like I’m not being honest.   Home should be comfortable and welcoming and familiar – but all the sudden it’s not, because I’m so very different.   Yes, I’m grateful. I’m so eternally grateful for the experience and the people and the life lessons.   But I no longer identify with the person who used to wear the clothes I left behind in my closet. (In fact, I sometimes put on my “travel” clothes just to feel like myself.) The food I used to eat on a daily basis no longer appeals to me. The things I used to love no longer light me up.   And it makes me sad, and I want to express that, but I don’t know how.   I’ve always followed my heart, not my head and this sometimes makes me experience a wide range of emotions. And when my emotions are this charged, it’s usually best to simply sit with them – to just allow myself to feel everything and not hide from whatever comes up.   So, here I sit in this grief and this sadness and understand that it exists because I played full out. Because I made the choice to leap – and I went. Because I pushed the boundaries and chased a dream not everyone could see.   And people say that I’m brave and I want to tell them I’m not brave, I’m not extraordinary.   There were so many times I was scared – about being a freelancer, about getting hurt, about fitting in, about the next step.   I cried, I stressed, I worried, I screamed, I laid awake at night.   I didn’t feel brave. I only knew that

remote year balboa
Life, REMOTE YEAR

Lessons learned from traveling for a year

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Now that I’m home, everyone asks me one of two questions: where was your favourite place or what did you learn?   It’s too hard to pick just one city but my favourite place to be is always on the water so anywhere near water wins my heart.   As for what I learned, here are a few random thoughts: (Note: the idea for this blog and many of the tips came from Anastasia Chapman, our fearless program leader – thanks Momma Stasia!  xo)   There’s nothing like a four-hour ferry ride to make new friends Figure out the currency conversion before checking into a spa for the weekend Always pack snacks   Make friends with someone who has access to the airport lounge  Castle walls are slippery in the rain Keep an extra deodorant stick in your backpack   A nap is always a good idea Check the level of the tide before you go cliff jumping Always hang on in the back of an open-air Jeep – you never know when you might fly over a sand dune   When eating street food, choose the stall with the longest queue Renting a beach umbrella is a smart idea The best way to catch an early flight is to stay up all night   Flushing toilet paper is an overlooked luxury If stray dogs can figure out the metro system, so can you Back up all your photos   Treasure the friends who offer a hand, wait for you and walk slowly up the mountain You can never get rid of sand in a backpack Pretending to take a photo is a great way to check out guys   Don’t run a half marathon when you aren’t in shape Eat outside every chance you get Google Maps is one of the best inventions ever   A glass of port beneath a castle, in a Jeep, with friends always tastes better It’s okay to sleep in a sandy bed, it means you had a great day Catch a sunrise or sunset every day – it’s always worth it   Starting a campfire requires newspaper and a lighter Find the balance between enjoying the moment and capturing the moment Stray dogs may bite you   All you need is a jar of peanut butter The best secrets are found down narrow, cobblestone streets If the place is called “Hot Mess”, it’s likely you’ll be one too   Food poisoning is a surprise cleanse you didn’t know you needed It’s cold at the top of mountains Uber is amazing – use it, love it   Always keep a few coins and tissue in your pocket (you never know when you need a bathroom) The best way to see a city is by bike Buy tickets in advance for something you really want to see   Workspaces provide free tea Make sure your train ticket seat faces forward Don’t be afraid of getting lost – that’s usually when you find the best places   Learn to take two-minute showers in Europe Midnight bike rides through the city make you feel alive Always pack a swimsuit   A smile will take you a long way in any language Say yes often!        

meditation in mexico
Life, REMOTE YEAR

Change is constant, especially on Remote Year

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As we left Bogota behind and headed to Mexico City, I was excited. Yes, it meant the final month of this year-long adventure, but it also meant I got to see friends from home!   I’ve been meditating with a group of ladies for almost five years and we have an annual ocean retreat. This year we chose Ixtapa – a quick 45-minute flight from Mexico City – which meant I was off to see my friends at the beach!   I only had time to unpack my suitcase, repack it and head back to the airport. I left the 12 degree chill of CDMX and landed at Zihuantanejo airport and 28 degree heat – yippee!   As I walked into the resort I heard my name and turned to see my friend Edleen approaching. We hugged and laughed and my heart felt calm to be connected with a dear friend again.   I settled into our ocean-view room and quickly changed into my flip-flops and bathing suit and headed down to the pool.   We ran into the other girls and started the reunion. There were several ladies I knew and some I hadn’t met yet. As the introductions began, I knew it was going to be a good week.   After 11 months of traveling and figuring out currencies and finding grocery stores and remembering where I lived, it was wonderful to unplug and not worry about a thing.   My toughest decision was beach or pool, strawberry or lime, ice cream or cake (who am I kidding – the answer is always ice cream!)   Our relaxing week included daily meditations, book study, breakfasts and dinners together, afternoon naps, and beach walks. It also included poolside silliness, sassy photo shoots, temporary tattoos and dancing on stage.   There were midnight swims and all-night conversations, laughter and tears, reflection and dreaming. Exactly what I needed.   One of the highlights was a tour to the turtle conservatory!   We arrived at a beautiful beach location and were warmly welcomed with a drink as they explained their operation. The eggs are placed in a nest, buried in the sand, and identified with a sign that shows the dates they’re ready. It looked like a giant garden, with sticks identifying each section.   In groups of three, we were shown into the nest area, given a bucket and instructions to scoop up four turtles each. They were adorable!   So tiny and sleepy and vulnerable. I brushed the sand back as I uncovered each one and gently coaxed them into my gloved hand.   Once we each had four, we set the bucket aside and went to dinner while the baby turtles woke up.   As the sun began to set, we gathered our buckets – now with very active little turtles – and headed down the beach. They had drawn lines in the sand to indicate a “no walking” zone so we didn’t step on any turtles.   Squatting down and saying some last words of encouragement to my babies, we leaned our buckets over on the count of three and released the turtles.   Oh, what a sight as 140 baby turtles took over the beach!   Like all babies, they had individual personalities. Some turtles took off with great speed towards the water, others slowly made their way along, others took off sideways and some even tried to climb back into the bucket!   We cheered as they reached the water, we laughed as some got turned around and then found their way.   And then, there was only one little turtle left and he was struggling.   He just couldn’t seem to make it to the water. He took a few steps forward and stopped. A wave would come and we’d cheer, but then it left him behind. Time and again the waves came close but not quite enough.   After 25 minutes, the staff put on gloves, scooped him up and put him back in his bucket. “He won’t survive if he goes in the water now,” they said. “He’s exhausted. We’ll tuck him in and try again tomorrow.”   Oh, my heart went out to the little turtle. What an adventure!   I walked away feeling I had just witnessed a valuable life lesson – you don’t have to be the fastest, you don’t have to be first, you just have to try. And it’s okay if you fail – dust yourself off, rest and try again tomorrow.   Back at the resort, we laid under an umbrella and Edleen filled me in on all the changes in Kelowna – condos going up, buildings destroyed by fire, restaurants that opened or closed, neighborhood expansions.   There were so many changes I wondered how I’ll recognize my city when I get home! I joked and said I’ll need a guided tour (which she gladly offered to provide).   Sometime when we stay in one place, we don’t realize that things are changing. But when you step away for a year, you realize that change is constant – whether we see it or not. Others see it.   And it made me wonder – have I changed this year?   Physically I don’t think I’ve changed – my hair is a little longer but still baby-duck fluffy, I haven’t gained or lost any significant weight, I haven’t got any tattoos or piercings.   Emotionally I don’t think I’ve changed – I still cry at movies, my heart melts when I see a baby, I long to love and be loved, and I practice kindness everywhere I go.   But mentally I’ve changed – if I’m honest, I know it to be true.   I’ve discovered a new way to live; I’ve seen proof that it’s possible to live the life you dream of; I know that people around the world are living a very different lifestyle than most North Americans.   I know what it’s

new year success
Life, REMOTE YEAR

How to top the most amazing year of your life

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We welcomed in the new year in a new city – Bogota. While everyone rushed out to parties and clubs to celebrate, I decided to honour a tradition I started several years ago.   I like to find a quiet space and spend time reflecting on the past year, celebrating my successes and learning from my failures. Then I dream about the new year and take time to feel what it would be like to live my ideal life. What am I doing, who am I with, where do I spend my time.   I journal and write it all down – everything I’m feeling, everything I’m longing for, everything I love. Then I close off the old year with gratitude and welcome the new year from a place of excitement.   2017 was obviously a big year for me. I lived in ten different countries, made 50+ new friends, tried new experiences and pushed myself so far out of my comfort zone I can’t even see the lines anymore!   So now everyone asks how I’m going to top that in 2018.   Truth is, my idea of topping it is probably very different than most expect.   Yes, there are so many more cities and countries I want to visit, things to try and adventures to have. But success for me in 2018 doesn’t involve any of those things.   Success looks like celebrating my nephew’s seventh birthday with him, going to his baseball games and watching him in the school play. It means cheering on my niece as she learns to ride a bike, laughing as we splash in the pool and baking cookies together.   It means watching the sunset with my sister, as we talk late into the night. It means having a weekly dinner date with my baby brother and welcoming his first child into the world. It means planning adventures with my mom and reassuring my dad we’ll be fine.   Success is reconnecting with dear friends, seeing how their children have grown, listening to their stories of happiness, sadness and joy from the past year, sharing my journey and embracing it all.   Success is continuing to follow my passions, it’s doing something every day that I love, it’s dreaming big and knowing that I can achieve it. It’s telling my story and inspiring others. It’s believing that anything is possible.   It’s month 11 of this crazy year-long adventure and I thought I’d have mixed emotions about the end quickly approaching.   I know I’m going to miss the friendships I’ve built, I know it will feel strange to walk away after spending 24 hours a day together for one year. I know I’m going to miss the adventure and excitement of exploring new cities. I’ll miss the freedom of choosing how to spend my time every day.   I’ll miss the community we’ve created. But I know we’ll always be there for each other, that I can travel to nearly any city or country and have a friend waiting for me. And I’ll know they’ll come to visit me too.   The end of Remote Year isn’t the end of the adventure, it’s just shifting.   My next adventure is returning home and seeing family and friends, living in the home I bought just before leaving, exploring the changes in my hometown, rediscovering favourite restaurants and hiking trails and beaches.   I’m excited about this next phase! There are people to meet, experiences to be had and plenty of love and laughter to go around.   Will I get restless? Maybe. Will I want to plan another trip? Probably. Will I experience the full range of emotions? Definitely.   But isn’t that what life’s about? Letting ourselves feel everything, trying on new experiences, finding what we love and pursuing more of it.   At least that’s how I choose to live my life – go all in, play full out and love every minute of it!  

horseback riding in Argentina
Life, REMOTE YEAR

Exploring new ways to live

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Spending one month in twelve cities is a great way to try on different lifestyles. You get a better sense if you’re a city person or a small town person, if you like to be on the water or surrounded by nature, if you value space or amenities.   Wrapping up my time in Argentina, I had the chance to observe two different lifestyles – one in the wide open foothills of the Sierra Mountains and the other tucked away along a river with 4×4 access only.   We had a track event that involved a two hour bus ride and a full day of horseback riding so it was the perfect fit to explore outside the city and spend time with horses.   When we arrived at the ranch, the horses were already saddled up outside. It was the skinniest bunch of horses I’d ever seen!   The gauchos matched us up and I trusted I’d have the perfect horse for me but when he led over a tall white horse, I hesitated.   I’ve never trusted white horses and find them high-spirited. But I hopped on and had a little chat with my horse. I talked about the great day we were going to have together and how excited I was to see his home.   We started off as a group but slowly found myself at the back of the pack.   As we walked by a farm, a dog ran out and staring barking furiously at us. My horse stopped. He was frozen (this was not good – a trail horse afraid of a dog?)   The other horses continued on and my horse got nervous. He threw his head and whinnied but refused to move.   I calmly told him it was okay and urged him along – but no luck. A few minutes later, a couple horses came up behind us and we joined them (maybe my horse just didn’t want to be alone?)   As we continued along, my horse veered into the bushes, causing me to duck under branches, and scratch my arm on the prickles.   Then we passed through a gate and he moved over at the last second, pinning my leg against the fence post!   Hmmm…what’s going on? I was getting the feeling he didn’t want to hang out with me.   Eventually we caught up to the rest of the group and got back in line…until some of the other horses decided they wanted to gallop.   I held my horse back, preferring to walk, but he had other ideas.   He started throwing his head and bucking, determined to get me off his back and go for a run!   I managed to stay on, as the gaucho came galloping over to help me. Still my horse wouldn’t calm down and continued to jump and twist.   Then I saw him eye up the fence and knew we were in trouble. If he decided to jump, one of us was going to get seriously hurt.   I had tried to bond with this horse, I had talked nicely but we just weren’t meant to be.   I jumped off and decided I would rather walk than continue to ride this crazy horse.   The gaucho explained it was a long way to go so I would have to ride something. Thankfully my friend Brandon offered to switch horses.   I gladly handed over the reins and mounted his quiet horse.   The rest of the ride was smooth as my new horse calmly walked along, carefully choosing his footing as we went through streams and down rocky trails.   More than once I glanced around and saw Brandon off the trail and trying to get the crazy white horse back in line.   After a 2.5 hours ride, we stopped for lunch and then had the option to ride back in the blazing sun or take the van.   2.5 hours was enough for me.   Half the group stayed to nap under the trees and the other half got back on the horses for the return ride.   I noticed the gaucho hopped on the crazy white horse, determined to keep him in line on the way home.   Even though I didn’t ride all day and I had to switch horses, I still enjoyed seeing the lifestyle of an Argentinian gaucho. They are brave and hardy – charging down hills and over rocks without a second thought. The wide-open space and fresh air appealed to me, but I know I need to be near water to feel happiest.   The next day, we headed two hours in a different direction to visit an eco-village called Umepay.   It was a gravel/dirt road so bumpy even our driver was concerned about where we were going. We stopped every oncoming vehicle and asked if we were on the right road.   As we approached several gates, I jumped out to open and close the gate behind our van (something any kid raised on a farm instinctively knows to do), and eventually we pulled into a quiet oasis.   We were warmly greeted by two women and a cute little boy named Tandoori.   We followed them to benches around a campfire pit, under the shade of a tree and listened to the story of how they created Umepay.   A group of 11 friends were fed up with housing costs and the rat race of working just to pay the bills.   They decided to sell everything, pool their money and buy a piece of land. They agreed to only develop 30 per cent of the land, leaving the remaining 70 per cent to nature.   Slowly they built homes and eventually a community hall for workshops and retreats. They shared sustainable values and worked together to create a lifestyle they loved.   It’s a peaceful place with hammocks, a meditation labyrinth, and daily yoga classes on the

rhythm changing seasons
Life, REMOTE YEAR

Finding rhythm when everything around you changes

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I was born and raised in British Columbia, and other than a brief stint in Alberta, I’ve always lived in B.C. One of the things I love about the West Coast is experiencing all four seasons.   I know that after the heat of an Okanagan summer, we move into the cool crispness of fall. I know the snow will come but it won’t last long and we’ll shift into the early signs of spring.   I’ve experienced this cycle over and over and my body relaxes with the certainty of this knowledge.   Living in one province also means you start to know the rhythms of nature during each season.   I know when the garter snakes arrive on the Mission Creek Greenway (and don’t walk there then!); I know what time the sun blazes down on Paul’s Tomb and makes the trail too hot to hike; I know you can usually find blue sky on the mountains, even when it’s foggy in town.   We take these natural cycles for granted. You don’t even know they are happening – until they change and throw everything out of alignment!   I left Kelowna in March, the start of spring, so it felt normal for me to land in Croatia when they were starting spring as well. I flowed along throughout Europe as we moved from spring into summer and gladly embraced the heat of Spain in August.   After a month of 40 degree days, my body was ready for the gentle ease into fall. After all, this was the cycle I’ve experienced by whole life, this was all I knew.   But our itinerary was to leave Europe and head to South America in September.   South America – that’s warm, right?   Oh no – South America is just finishing winter and moving into spring in September!   The cold weather was a shock to my system. There was no easing into a cool autumn – we were thrown back in time to do spring all over again.   Back to wearing layers, as the weather changes every hour. Back to dark nights, as the sun sets earlier. Back to trees with no leaves.   Walking to the post office early one morning (to mail my monthly postcards, which is always an adventure in itself), I noticed kids heading to school and adults off to work.   I saw a woman wearing a black cardigan with her dress pants and I got emotional – I was suddenly back home, getting dressed for work and longing for winter to be over.   I remember the feeling well – you’re so ready for spring, you pack away coats and pull out dresses, willing spring to arrive.   There’s still a chill in the air but you refuse to wear a coat so the little cardigan gets worn every morning (often left at the office as the day warms up).   It’s funny – it’s like seeing that cardigan was a signal to my body that it was spring.   Things started to click into place and I let go of longing for fall and it’s changing leaves and pumpkin spice. I slowly started to embrace the idea of spring after summer, of buds appearing on trees, of flowers blooming.   Although I miss fall (my favourite season), and I know it will be strange to skip winter (I won’t miss driving in snow), it’s a fun, new experience to have two springs and two summers in one year.   I don’t know if there is a snake season (I hope not!), I don’t know when the sun gets too hot, I don’t know the signs of a coming storm.   But I do know I’m having an adventure and my brain and body are working overtime to adapt.   Everything is unexpected, everything is new, everything is unfamiliar.   And I find the best thing to do is let go, be curious and find your own rhythm as it unfolds.

uruguay
Life, REMOTE YEAR

Counting countries and letting go

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Several people I’m traveling with this year have a goal of visiting 30 countries before they turn 30. I was a late bloomer and didn’t start travelling until I was 30 so that goal wasn’t an option for me. But it got me thinking – how many countries have I visited since I turned 30?   As I reviewed the list – from Australia to Cambodia to Bali to Norway – I realized I was sitting at 29 countries.  So close to 30!   Where should I go next?   Looking at the map, I was only an hour ferry ride away from Uruguay. That’s it – Uruguay would be my 30th country!   It was Thursday and no one was free to join me so I hopped in an Uber and headed down to the ferry terminal alone.   What should have been a ten minute drive turned into 45 minutes as we hit rush hour traffic. I was getting nervous that I’d miss my ferry.   As I checked the time again, I realized I was worrying about nothing. If I missed the ferry, then it wasn’t meant to be!   I believe things happen for a reason and in that moment, I decided to focus on how I wanted my day to go instead of being anxious about things beyond my control.   I closed my eyes, took a couple deep breaths and thought about how I wanted to feel.   I wanted a relaxing day, to stroll along at a leisurely pace, to stop and enjoy anything that caught my attention, to meet kind and trust-worthy people, to be safe and healthy, and to appreciate the beauty of a new country.   With the shift in my perspective, we soon arrived at the ferry terminal and I walked inside to get my ticket.   There was no one in line.   As I went upstairs to go through customs, again, there was no one in line.   I smiled at how quickly my surroundings had changed from chaos to peace.   As I left the customs area, I saw two women waiting for their passports, chatting about their plans for Uruguay. They saw me and smiled – “you speak English, right?” “Yes,” I replied. We had a brief conversation and I wished them a pleasant trip.   I sat on the ferry, looking over the water and memories of so many other solo trips flooded my mind. I decided to stretch my legs, walked around the corner and heard a friendly “hello again!” It was the mother-daughter duo I had seen in the customs area!   They invited me to sit with them so I sat down and we swapped travel stories.   Karen and Elizabeth were from Washington, DC and had lived and traveled all over the world, spending time in Africa, Australia, France and Germany to name a few. I instantly liked them – their casual nature, their positive attitude and the fun dynamic between moms and daughters, especially when travelling.   Our conversation continued as we got off the ferry and it went unsaid that we would explore the city together.   We grabbed maps from the tourist office and headed out on foot. We laughed and joked and stopped for photos, admiring the ocean views, the tall palm trees and the brightly colored houses.   We had so much fun!   Karen wanted to peek in every shop, try things on and look for gifts. Elizabeth encouraged her mother to move along and I laughed as I say the same things to my mom.   We posed for photos, laughing at how I was going to show up in the family photos when they looked back years from now.   Deciding we should stop for lunch, we found a cute café, sat outside and ordered a bottle of wine – why not?!   I learned about their careers, their family life, their beloved dog who had just passed, their future plans. The time flew by and I felt like we’d been lifelong friends.   We walked the cobblestone streets, climbed the lighthouse, ate ice cream, strolled through the church and museum, took numerous photos, bought souvenirs and thoroughly enjoyed the quiet town of Colonia.   Walking back to the ferry docks, I smiled at the amazing day we had. It was what I had envisioned…and more!   We exchanged contact information, said goodbye and had a group hug. It had been a wonderful day and I believe they enjoyed my company as much as I had enjoyed theirs.   Not only did I reach 30 countries visited since I turned 30, but I made two amazing friends and I know our paths will cross again one day.   That’s the beauty of traveling, of setting your intentions, of being open to how the day unfolds – sometimes you get even more than you asked for!     P.S. This also happens to be my 30th blog post – how cool is that?! Thanks for your support! xo                            

Life, REMOTE YEAR

Half way through Remote Year – what’s next?

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When I first joined Remote Year, the idea of spending one month in 12 cities around the world with 50 other professionals seemed daunting and exciting. Stepping out of your life – leaving friends and family, your home, and for me, my job – seemed like a huge leap of faith. And I love taking leaps of faith, especially ones that involve travel!   Month one flew by as we got to know each other and adjusted to our new lifestyle of working and living remotely. Months two and three were a blur, as we explored new countries and booked side trips. Month four was a reality check for many of us, and a chance to rest and recharge. Month five was a busy work month for me and then month six was here and it suddenly hit us that it was our last month in Europe!   I feel like I just started this journey but in fact, we’ve wrapped up month six with means I’m closer to the end than the beginning.   I’m feeling a sense of urgency. I had so many goals for this year away and I’m not on track to complete most of them – some I haven’t even started!   Perhaps it was too ambitious to launch a communications consulting company, develop a brand, build a website, write a weekly blog, research road safety issues around the world, be open to new cultures and new ways of thinking about life and work, be curious and adventurous, meditate daily, do regular yoga, learn a new language, …..   Okay, writing out this long list makes me realize how unrealistic it was!   The only goal that really matters to me now is being present for every moment of this adventure.   There have been high, happy moments (exploring the city walls of Dubrovnik, seeing the sunrise from a mountain in Bulgaria); there have been lows (wondering where the next client or pay cheque would come from); there’s uncertainty and doubt (Do I belong here? Can I really do this?); and kindness from unexpected places (invites to dinner, an arm offered walking down stairs, a hug on a tough day).   My emotions have ranged from one extreme to another. And I think that’s how we know we are alive. We are experiencing life – every single moment of it.   It’s not all happy and fun and games, (although I’m sure it looks that way to people back home!) but it’s real and it’s raw. We are learning things about ourselves and others that might be surprising.   People think I’m always happy, (which is mostly true) but those closest to me know when I haven’t had a good night’s sleep, when I need a snack, or when I simply need to sit down for a break.   It’s these insights we develop as we spend time with people we care about that makes life richer, fuller.   I’ve always been independent and have been single for awhile now so I’m not used to anyone taking care of me. It still feels strange but I’m learning to let go, to allow others into my private life, to ask for help or a hug or some chocolate.   The great thing about traveling with 50 new friends is that there’s always someone up when you’re down, caring when you’re homesick, listening when you need to talk, ready for an adventure or happy to stay in pjs to watch a movie.   And now the big question that’s started to creep into conversations is – what’s next? What do we do after Remote Year ends?   Will people return to their former lives/homes/jobs and carry on, remembering RY as that year they went traveling? Will people continue the digital nomad lifestyle, and keep traveling? Will people go back to the cities they fell in love with and start a new life?   For me, I don’t know.   Of course, I miss my family and friends and I can’t wait to go home and see everyone.   And yes, I miss my home and King-size bed with one solid mattress where I don’t fall in between, with sheets that fit, lots of pillows and a fluffy duvet.   But I’ve also come to love the freedom of waking up without an alarm clock, of choosing how to spend my days, of exploring new places filled with history.   I don’t know what life will look like in March 2018 but I do know this:   ~ There is more than one way to live a happy, successful, passionate life ~ Dreams, all dreams, are worth pursuing ~ Say “yes” to fun – whatever that means to YOU   We have six months left on this adventure and I intend to: experience every moment, continue to develop new friendships, be open and curious about ways to live a happy life, soak up nature and see the beauty all around me, wake up each morning grateful for a new day, and spread kindness and compassion everywhere I go.     I’m in South America for the next six months and would love to hear your tips, suggestions or questions!      

Life, REMOTE YEAR

New perspective in Turkey

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We decided to take a side trip to Istanbul. For some, it was a chance to visit a country that might not always be open to tourists. For me, I was curious about a culture where women are viewed so differently from men.   Arriving in Istanbul, we immediately felt the difference. Uniformed officers with machine guns guarded the entrances and exits of the airport. Crowds of people waited to greet family, friends and visitors.   Walking through the airport, I got my first glimpse of women in full hijabs. Groups of women with only eyes peering out at the world as they gathered children and hurried on their way. Men handled the luggage and women handled the children – maybe things weren’t so different here?   We arrived at our hotel and immediately headed out to explore the Grand Bazaar. I was conscious of what I wore, packing flowy linen pants and shirts that covered my shoulders. Thinking about what to wear is not something I normally do, especially traveling on Remote Year where my decision is based on what’s clean.   As we walked along in our group, one guy naturally led the way and the other guy brought up the rear, keeping us girls in the middle. It wasn’t something we discussed but something that just happened.   The Grand Bazaar is a sensory overload. People and noises and smells; lamps and t-shirts stacked up and hanging from the ceiling; jewelry and art for sale along a maze of windy, narrow aisles.   But what grabbed me first were the colors – I was instantly drawn to a deep turquoise and knew I had to bring something home. (And so began my negotiating with a vendor who invited me to first sit, take a cup of hot apple tea and talk. A fun but lengthy process that left my friends tapping their toes…)   We booked a private walking tour the following day and our guide led us through the Hagia Sophia, Hippodrome of Constantinople, Spice Market, Basilica Cistern and Blue Mosque. He explained their history and welcomed questions we had on any topic.   Sitting on the floor in the Blue Mosque, surrounded by locals for Friday prayers, I had a million questions about being a woman in Turkey. Why must they be covered? Why are they not allowed to pray together with men? Are they allowed to work? Do they have a choice in who to marry? Is the culture changing?   I felt a sense of calm in the mosque. Even though hundreds of people flowed around me, I felt a connection to the women who had come before me, to the women who will come after me. I felt hopeful and optimistic for their future. I felt like prayers made here were heard. I felt honored to be allowed to glimpse into this foreign world.   Continuing with our tradition of trying local activities, we booked a hamam at the oldest Turkish bath house in Istanbul. (For those shocked at our bath house experience in Bulgaria, you’ll be happy to know we were provided with a plaid triangle bikini top and shorts.)   We were directed into the steam room, or hararet, and instructed to lie on the hot marble slab for 40 minutes. Lying together on the huge stone, we got the giggles as sweat rolled into our eyes, time slowly ticked by and we wondered if we’d be able to last in the heat.   I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself it was simply mind over matter – it wasn’t really so hot.   As I gazed at the domed ceiling and imagined who had laid exactly where I was laying and what their life looked like, the small round windows in the roof started to blur. In fact, all the edges of what I looked at were fuzzy. I’m not sure if it was the heat or a deep meditation but it felt surreal.   Once I started seeing blue dots, I thought perhaps it was a bit too hot for me. As I sat up (suggest doing this more slowly than I did, giving myself a head rush and almost falling over), our hamam guides entered and took four people to begin the next phase.   Ackk! – Adrienne and I were left behind to continue to sit in the heat!   We quietly snuck out to the waiting room and stuck our heads under the tap to cool off but got busted and were sternly told to go back in and wait.   Finally it was our turn and we were thoroughly scrubbed from head to toe, followed by a heavenly massage with soap bubbles. (Seriously, I don’t know how they made the bubbles but it felt like being snuggled into a cloud!) We were rinsed off and wrapped up in towels and sent out to join our friends. Our skin was soft and glowed for days.   That night we sat on the rooftop terrace of our hotel, under the light of a full moon and talked about our journey so far – and how blessed we are to be on this adventure.   We had another full day exploring the city, taking the ferry to the Asia side of Istanbul, strolling through main streets, shopping, eating and looking for rooftop locations to take in the views.   Our final day started early with an invitation to join a new friend on the Hiawatha, a US Embassy boat given to Turkey in 1932. We excitedly climbed on board the historic vessel and cruised the waters of the Bosphorus towards Princes Island.   Being on the water is my happy place (not raging, white water but calm lakes, rivers and seas). The feeling of fresh air blowing over your body relaxes me and I find it impossible to think about anything other than the pure joy of being alive in the moment.   As

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