It’s an absolutely stunning morning. A week before Christmas. The sun has risen above the mountains, drying out any hint of dampness left behind by the night’s rain. A slight breeze kisses my cheek, inviting me to awaken to the promise of this day. The soulful cry of the toucans drifts through the cool air, igniting joy in my heart and bringing a smile to my face. The day’s activities have already begun.
It’s been three months since we moved to Costa Rica. Every day brings something new – some good, some not so good – but everything offers a chance to learn. We are slowly settling in, and time slips away so easily here. Some days I sit quietly on the back patio, simply taking it all in. Other days are a flurry of activity – from Tai Chi and volunteering, to ferias and multiple shopping stops to gather what’s needed to prepare wonderful meals. And of course, there are beach days. It’s amazing how much time there is once you’ve stopped. Stopped working. Stopped traveling. Stopped worrying.
We move through phases of bliss and phases of WTF are we doing here?!
This is a country of mixed messages. There are moments of total chill – when everything flows effortlessly, without a hitch. And then there are the moments marked by a lack of urgency or commitment to show up on time…if at all. The Tico people are wonderful; there is simply no rush. You can plan your entire day and watch as not one thing unfolds as expected. By day’s end, you may realize you’ve waited and waited, yet nothing has gotten done. It’s frustrating – mostly when we compare life here to life in the States. Every choice carries consequences, both good and bad. This choice was ours.
Then there are the funnies. It’s a bright, sunny day and the power blinks on and off several times within a couple of hours. It’s pouring rain – the power blinks again. This week there’s a leak in this water main line or that one, so sorry, the water will be off for a few hours – not for lack of water, mind you, there’s plenty of that. Huge green Iguanas choose our back deck for make-out sessions, then cool off in the pool afterward. Tiny spiders float endlessly from thing to thing, leaving us to walk through their strands face-first. Each morning I dust every piece of outdoor furniture, trying to stay ahead of yesterday’s web trails. Geckos poop all over everything leaving little mouse poos with white dots looking like an explanation point – guess they are making a statement. And of course, there’s the ongoing adventure of asking and answering in Spanish.
This Thanksgiving, we embrace gratitude for the calm we’ve built and compassion for those missing loved ones. Together, we honor the enduring bonds that transcend distance.
This year, Thanksgiving feels different.
It feels heavier… and somehow, more sacred.
Because while Chris and I wake up each morning surrounded by peace — free from the grinding stress that once sat on our shoulders — we know that so many others are carrying a very different weight right now.
A weight made of fear, of sudden goodbyes, of families torn apart by harsh policies and heartless raids. There are empty chairs at tables today not because of distance or choice, but because loved ones were taken, uprooted, scattered. Entire families are living with a quiet ache that never seems to lift.
Yet in the middle of all that heartbreak… there is still gratitude.
Chris and I are deeply, humbly thankful for the life we’ve been able to build here in Costa Rica — for the calm, the safety, the space to breathe again. And we’re just as grateful for the people who keep our hearts stitched together across countries: the friends who have become family here, and the loved ones in the States whose connection remains a steady, grounding presence.
We’re thankful for every message, every visit, every shared laugh across borders — reminders that love doesn’t weaken with distance; it grows stronger, more intentional, more cherished.
So today we’re holding two truths side by side: Gratitude for the peace we have… and compassion for those spending this holiday with pieces missing.
To everyone feeling that empty space at the table, that tug of worry, that longing for someone who should be here — you are not invisible. You are carried in the hearts of many.
May the days ahead bring comfort where there has been fear, hope where there has been loss, and reunions where there have been far too many separations.
My love and heartfelt wishes for a reflective holiday season.
I’m sitting here on my patio watching the rain come down—again. We’ve had a ton of rain since Hurricane Melissa first appeared as a blip in the Caribbean. It must be true that October is the rainiest month in Costa Rica. We’ve had over twenty inches of rain this week, and more is falling.
And let me tell you—it knows how to rain here. It’s never just a “passing shower.” Back in Utah, we’d call these “gully washers.” For example, our pool’s water level usually sits about six inches below the lip, but last night, after just two hours of rain, it reached the overflow drain. For the next four hours, the drain couldn’t keep up, so I had to pull the cover off to let the water escape before it spilled over. Our pool is about eighteen feet long and twelve feet wide. I’m no mathematician, but that’s a lot of water.
Why did I mention Melissa?
Part of learning to live in a new country is learning its weather. We don’t have regular TV here, so most of our information and alerts come through WhatsApp. I saw a question recently posed to a local meteorologist: “If the hurricane is in the Caribbean, why is the Pacific coast getting high tide surges and flooding—while it’s sunny on the Caribbean side?”
Here’s where it gets a little nerdy. A hurricane is a living, breathing, seething wonder of nature. It pulls energy from all around it—even thousands of miles away. Just off the Pacific coast of Central America sits the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ), which holds an immense amount of humidity—a marine layer of warm, moist air. The hurricane literally pulls that ITCZ over the nearby countries, where it becomes supercharged by local weather patterns. The result? Torrential rain that can last all day.
During a “normal” rain, you can feel the humidity rising. The air gets heavy and oppressive. It’s no wonder everything here grows so fast, so big, and so green.
This week, we’ve also begun a new path toward better health—a change in diet, shifting old habits, and replacing them with more holistic practices. We’ve started giving back to our small community by volunteering and joining in the local energy and vibe. We’ve taken up Tai Chi, sound healing, and slow forms of yoga and breathing.
Today, I attended a “Morning Melt: Cacao and Devotional Singing Ceremony” at a local shop here in Uvita. There’s always some class or workshop on wellness, spirituality, or healing happening here. It’s about getting well—not just treating symptoms.
We eat fresh produce from the farmers market, grass-fed meats, and organic everything. We know where our food comes from—nothing is trucked in from far away. If it’s in season, we get it fresh. It all adds up to our main reason for moving here.
Here, in Costa Rica, we just might become young and spry again.
Well, we’ve made it down into Baja California Sur, Mexico. The journey down took the best part of a week. There are numerous military check points along the way, mostly just curious federales except coming into San Ignacio, those guys are jerks.
The driving was a bit hairy after we connected with the main highway Route 1. The road is plenty wide enough for our van and a semi…as long as everyone stays in their own lanes. The last trip up and over the mountains and into Santa Rosalía was the last of the dangerous stretches of windy mountain passes for a while. We were told there’s an accident almost everyday.
Our push to get to Mulege and Bahia Concepcion paid off in spades until Chris came down with the same cold I was battling and we opted to get a hotel room in Posada Concepcion to get some rest and take some long hot showers to try and get on top of our sickness. After a day I pushed on to the beach to set up camp, Chris stayed behind for one more day.
View from the hotel room
A nice camp spot was saved for me by Frank and Linda, right on the beach only 20’ from the high tide line. The beach is made up of broken shells that have been pulverized into course sand. There are starfish, pelicans, seagulls and turns, dolphins playing in the bay and dozens of paddle boards and kayaks skimming the water as far as one can see. The gentle lapping of the water along the beach lulls me into a trancelike state until the seagulls cry snaps me back.
Our camp
Every morning, several beach dwellers take out kayaks and fish. Upon returning, they clean and fillet the fish they caught. This daily ritual has attracted 5 large brown pelicans and 2 seagulls. The fisherman feeds the pelicans and the seagulls scream at them, sometimes pestering them enough they get a small morsel. Lazy birds.
Everyday a gentle breeze picks up in the early afternoon, turning the glassy waters of the bay, into small wave trains that lap at the shore and make for some fun paddle boarding. There’s little trails leading up into the hills that surround the beach, a larger area with a dozen or more palapas, outhouses with smelly pit toilets, we use our own and take the cassette once every 3 days and dump it in one.
Colorful Bay of Concepcion Bay of Glassy waterSun sparkles
On any sunny day, the bay turns aqua green with deep blues and turquoise. Dancing in the water are sun sparkles, glitter from the sun. If you squint your eyes those sparkles become sun drops splashing into the bay. I squint and watch these little jewels of light as they dance on the top of the water. Another day another sand dollar.
It’s been 2 months since we left the most peaceful, kind and giving part of the world.
We left Utah on June 1, 2020, as the world fell apart with COVID-19. We took off in our 2015 Ford Transit Van which we had spent the previous year preparing and building out the inside to serve as our home on the road. We chose the van life primarily for Gandaulf, since he was getting a bit too old to travel abroad via airplanes. It also was the safest way we could see the western US, with thousands of people dying everyday from this horrible disease.
It was hard at first to adjust to a small living space, but in actuality it was to be mainly for escaping weather and sleeping. Cooking, showering and all other “living” were done outside. Chris, Gandaulf, and I communing with Mother Nature at the most intimate of levels. Soon we became one with the ebb and flow of the days, enjoying hikes, bike rides, kayaking, campfires, sitting in silence, and living carefree. We spent the year touring Utah, Wyoming, Idaho, Arizona, Southern California, Montana and headed into Baja, Mexico for February through April of 2021.
Now, life on the road is not all fun and games. There’s a lot of lifting, bending, crawling on the ground, maintenance and things we always took for granted such as, finding potable water for our tanks. At times, we’d get a hotel room just to stand under an unlimited amount of hot water. We never planned too far ahead, usually two weeks out was good, but we always had direction. We had the freedom to follow brown signs to some new location we’d never been. There were breakdowns and even a dead mouse somewhere in the van that caused a week and a half of serious woes while in Canada.
Gotta find the mouse
In August of 2021, the border to Canada opened. We spent the previous summer in the Montana back country, hoping the border would open to no avail. This time we were ready and packed up and headed for Canada but this trip ended sooner than planned due to illness in the family. We made it as far as Jasper, AB and turned around to be with family during this time. In January of 2022, while preparing for another winter in Baja, Mexico, we lost both our little sister and Dad within a day of each other. We hung out in Salt Lake to help with the arrangements and to make sure that everyone was back on their feet. In March, 2022, we headed back out towards New Mexico and Arizona, then up to Idaho for the fall. October 2022 through January 2023, we headed down the west coast Highway 1, slowly making our way towards Baja, Mexico to spend another glorious winter.
January 30, 2023, as we were preparing to cross into Baja, Mexico, the call came that stopped us in our tracks. Forced to return to Salt Lake City, Utah, we packed up the van, mid-winter, and headed 700 miles north into the grips of the cold. We spent time at our girlfriend’s AirBnB until we found a new owner for the one ball and chain left in our life, our commercial property. After 3 months of winter, we watched the Spring bloom and the snow melt away. On March 21, 2023, the first day of Spring, we lost our 13 year old corgi, Gandaulf to dementia and pain. It was more than either of us could bear. On one hand we were free now to travel outside of the US, but what fun would it be without our little sidekick? What’s true is that life was still moving on with or without us, so we sold the van, the side by side ATV and trailer, gave away Gandaulf’s toys and food, and bought a one way ticket to Europe May 11, 2023.
Austria
Our travels the next 7 months took us to Ireland, Scotland, Portugal including 2 Azore islands, Germany, Austria, Spain, Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia, and Cyprus. We flew back to Salt Lake City for two weeks to resupply and move our clothes over to backpacks which was much more suited for the SE Asia countries and islands we planned to visit next.
IrelandST Miguel, AzoresNorthern CyprusMadeira, Portugal
Europe was an amazing eye opener. First off, everything, it seemed, was uphill. Streets were built to provide one car safe passage and turn outs for passing. There was an exorbitant amount of indiscriminate cigarette smoking…EVERYWHERE! The European people seemed cold and in their own worlds. The inn keepers were friendly enough, but it was their job, not always genuine. The ancient cities and architecture were incredibly beautiful. The history fascinated us. The US is so young in comparison. Kings, queens, armies, witches, sorcerers, jesters, common people and their animals, all strolled around the walled cities commonly found in most countries we visited. In my mind’s eye, I could picture the period costumes on the droves of people mingling in squares, sipping tea and coffee in sidewalk cafes. There is still so much to see and I am sure we will return soon to cover a few more countries there.
MontenegroJohn O’Groats, ScotlandEdinburgh
On November 18, 2023, we left for an undetermined amount of time in SE Asia. We had a tour for 45 days that was to cover Thailand, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. Again, as in Europe, we were taken back by the history and ancient cities and buildings. The culture was mind blowing! Everywhere you looked, were statues of the Buddha, Vishnu, dragons, snakes, and other spiritual and mythical creatures bearing strong androgynous characteristics. Some half animal half human. The people were genuinely kind in nature, respectful and giving. Their lives were simple and they seemed content. They took care of family, strays, and less fortunate souls. Their religion was not just saved for the weekend, but visible in every aspect of daily life. Kindness abounded.
After our tour, we chose to spend two more months in Thailand, island hopping. We hit Koh Lanta, Koh Phi Phi, Koh Ngai, Koh Kradan, Koh Talabeng, Koh Muk, and Koh Lipe. Each island had its own unique charm with one common denominator…the native islanders. All in all our time in Thailand will always be remembered.
Our next stop took us to Singapore and this small countries’ towering highrises, well thought out freeways and the intelligent use of green spaces. It’s a modern metropolis at the tip end of a peninsula. It was a beautiful but very busy country that seems, from flying in, to be just a piece of land with millions of towering buildings. It has every modern technology incorporated into the infrastructure. It was quite a cool place to spend a few days. We also spent a few days in Langkawi, a small island in Indonesia, then took the leap into Malaysia and Bali, Indonesia.
Bali ended our SE Asia tour. We spent a month touring with our personal driver, Dek Udi. We had a really hard time with the humidity and heat so it was imperative to be around water. We met some of the most interesting and kind people who genuinely took an interest in us and our journey. Soon it was time to leave this incredible island and make our way back to the states for our next big adventure.
It’s been a month since we flew from Singapore back to Salt Lake City, UT, our home state, and it seems like we are finally getting a routine back into our lives. We pet/house sit for a week or so, then spend time in the van, then another pet/house sit, then back into the van and back into the desert for some silence. I am afraid this is as routine as it will get. It seems that Chris and I both have restless souls that prefer to wander than to settle down. Traveling allows us to meet and get to know new people on a personal level, one where they are engaged and not simply exchanging niceties.
The last two days have been a bit overcast and rainy. This made for a fun few days in the desert. It is this life giving rain that brings the deserts into bloom and, at the same time, turns the roads into a slick slurry of mud and sticky clay. After a night of downpours, we decided it wise to retreat from the back country and find some provisions and refill the water tank. The ride out was a nail biter but the 4X4 helped out. The slick mud and clay sticking to every inch of the van.
In a harsh environment, such as the desert, any rain that makes it to the ground is a godsend. Before the storm set in, the sky was full of brilliant white towering clouds with grey bottoms, being heavy laden with water. Below these beautiful floating vapor wonders, hang wispy sheets of rain that dissipate hundreds of feet from the ground, never a drop reaching the earth, this is called virga.
This strange but beautiful event occurs when the air is too hot and dry for the rain to hit the ground, it also can create dangerous down burst winds. These winds often show themselves as dust devils, columns of dust, sand and dirt that swirl hundreds of feet into the air like an invisible tornado starting from the ground up. It’s an amazing sight to witness and unforgiving if one is caught near one of these devils. They will hit a car and try to push it off the road, fill a tent and sleeping bag full of sand and send trash and debris flying hundreds of feet into the air, as if they were ballerinas preparing for a dervish dance.
Small flash flood in a desert wash
Traveling, as we do, is not for everyone. Some people like the comforts of four walls, TV, and a routine that rarely changes. Traveling is hard, takes a lot of planning and when traveling in a van, some heavy lifting. It can take you way out of your comfort zone or help you find a new one. It is, however for us, rewarding and fulfilling. The people you meet can be precious gemstones, or an obstacle, your choice. We may think we live in the best country in the world, but unless you travel…how would you know?
There’s so much running around in my brain. First, I’d like to say that 4 months in SE Asia has been a good amount of time. Countries visited include, Cambodia, Laos, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam. There are so many more countries and places to explore, but as with Europe, it will have to wait.
Each country has had its charm, sorted history, beauty, beaches, lakes, and natural formations such as the Karsk Mountains. We’ve visited memorials depicting the horrors of wars, incredible temples and places of deep cultural significance, bumpy roads, tiny streets, crazy traffic, billions of motorbikes, stairs and stairs, and more stairs. The one thing that reigns true in every country, be it a wide open space country, huge city with skyscrapers, or farmlands, are the kindness of the people. I know this has been said over and over again, but believe me, it cannot be said enough. In all of our years of traveling and doing humanitarian work, it is the people with the least, that are willing to give the most.
I can honestly say that Chris and I try our best to be informed about the culture and beliefs of the people in whatever country we visit. It goes a long way believe me. Whether it be a few phrases in the local language, a simple bow, a conversation about the religion or mythology of the people, you can see their eyes brighten and a smile comes across their face that says more than words could ever convey. To be courteous and ask permission to take a photo shows a great deal of respect at times.
One thing we struggle a bit with is tipping. On our tours with GAdventures, we learned how tipping can be a good and bad thing. Being “westerners”, privileged as some would call us, it is important to understand the concept of tipping. For example, in Cambodia and Vietnam, the average monthly salary is equal to about $400 USD. The people live comfortably and are happy. Introduce tourism; they may be employed at a hotel, restaurant or attraction catering to tourists from all over the world. IF these tourists tip, which is about 30% do vs 70% that don’t, the appropriate tip may seem ridiculously small to us, but to them, it could mean more than we can imagine. Sometimes it amounts to nothing but the fact that you have recognized them and appreciate their service. That you see them! The point being, tip appropriately…not like you would at home. It can disrupt their lives in ways we can’t understand.
Next thing we make a point to do is ask the locals about themselves and their family. We engage with the tour guides, drivers and hotel staff. They aren’t robots, not yet anyway. They live to have the jobs they do. They feel very lucky to have them and will always serve you with that genuine smile I am always talking about. Even when you can see them visibly melting in the heat and humidity, just as you are, they persevere, continuing to do the best they can to serve you. For example; we watched a woman in Thailand that was probably 7-8 months pregnant. She was there for lunch at 11am and was still there when we went back for dinner at 8pm and was still there when we left at 9:30. The restaurant was still open for another 1.5 hours. She was seating customers and clearing tables. She never stopped. There was no AC, just an open air restaurant. Another woman, a bit overweight by Thai standards, was also there that same time. It was an exceptionally hot day and the night was stifling with not a hint of breeze. She stood at her station with sweat running down her face, using a menu to cool herself. She greeted us with a smile and welcomed us back by name. It’s often hard to put aside the privileged part of us that can’t believe the working conditions.
All this writing made me hot, so I just used my pool. Now the pool attendant is helping us to get more shade on our cushy sun bed. 🥵🤣 Like i was saying…
We are currently in Uluwatu, Bali, our last stop in Bali. It’s 84 degrees or 31 celsius and 80% humidity. I’m watching 4 guys on a glass roof over the eating area at the restaurant, removing what amounts to a completely shattered piece of 3/4” tempered glass…with no gloves! No safety gear, just grit and perseverance. Wow! 🥵😳 I need to go use the pool again just from watching them…
We hope that you’ve enjoyed our journey. Feel free to reach out to us for recommendations or with any questions about where we’ve been. Thanks for following our travels! The Girls
We’ve moved from the jungle of Ubud back to the beach of Sanur…the humidity is back at a manageable level with the sea breezes, and the temp has dropped 2 degrees Celsius which is huge. Moving days are often the hardest days, even with a short drive (1-2 hours) and a late check out. For me, I forget to hydrate like I should, since I am in the AC, so last night I was not much fun to be around at dinner. The headache, excessive sweating, lack of appetite, lethargy and irritability are real. Poor Chris.
Pumpkin Ravioli with roasted almonds in almond oil Grilled fish in a curry aioli sauce
I wanted to talk today, about our time in Ubud, a crazy hub and sprawling city jammed with tourists on foot, motorbikes zigging and zagging in and out of vehicle traffic and congested intersections without traffic circles or stop lights. If we were in America, there would be numerous deaths and accidents, but here, there is an understanding that is learned at an early age. In the states, the person with the ugliest car wins as they throw caution to the wind and barrel through, thinking only of themselves. Here, a small amount of Evil Knevivel stunt driving is involved, nerves of steel, kindness of a sage, concentration of a bird of prey and lots of guts. There is horn honking, which means…I’m coming ahead so don’t turn in front of me, turn signals to inform the head on traffic that you are coming over into their lane and a great deal of patience. One lane becomes two and a half. We would be dead, plain and simple, or frozen with fear, or perhaps never turn and continue straight forever. LOL
Next is the artists and shops that line the roads for sometimes a mile at a time. It’s like candy to the eye. There is no way to stop and visit in most cases, so you just gawk and dream about the intricate wood work and stone carvings, the time, skill and effort it takes to create such beauty. The incredibly colorful paintings that are on display in a little dark shops, you wonder how they make a sale…?
Next would have to be the temple carvings of beasts with human bodies and animal heads or visa-versa. The guardians of sacred spaces, mythological creatures that scare evil spirits or project a story from Hindu culture. Left to a foreigner’s imagination, emanations of bad nightmares.
Each home has a temple. The temples are the front yards, so to speak. They hold spirt or ancestor houses that often times, hold the ashes of the dead. Each day three offerings are made, morning, noon and night. Simple but powerful. Perhaps a little food, flowers and drink accompanied by a burning stick of incense placed on a small handmade plate made from palm leaves. Rice grains are often pressed to the forehead or temple of the family members as a prayer for peace and good health. Women and men, both in colorful saris are seen in open fields, making offerings to the Mother earth, soil, water and sky for a good harvest. Such a simple and uncomplicated way to show respect.
Of course, with such a small compact society comes the refuse. It is an ever present problem, and one that cannot be overlooked. I actually heard a guide blame it on tourists when a client asked him about it…to me, the solution begins with the community and seems such an easy one. In some countries, they have “tidy town awards”. These are incentives given to a community based on their beautification. This includes removal of debris and refuse. I have seen garbage trucks picking up garbage so maybe the infrastructure exists here. With deep rain gutters and a heavy rainy season, the problem just washes into the sea and up onto the beaches.
Lastly, monkeys…Ubud is home to the monkey forest and these cute, clever creatures are everywhere. Not nearly as aggressive as in other countries we’ve visited, such as Cambodia. One group did enter another’s territory while we were in The Monkey Forest, and as one male was escaping the other, it used Chris as a trampoline to bounce away further from the chasing male. It was startling and happened so fast, no one was hurt.
I’m sure I’ve missed something but it will have to wait for the next post. Hope you are enjoying the updates and insights.
Well…what can I say? It’s been about 4 days now that whatever had gripped my body, and made me so ill, has passed. It literally reduced me to tears at least once. Perhaps it was the dreaded COVID that slapped me upside my head almost a month ago to the day. Perhaps it was the gut bacterium that affects some poor souls traveling to this part of the world all the way down to Indonesia. The shear will power to eat a meal, even though you know the inevitable cause and effect of this necessary evil of human existence. The constant “thick head” feeling, like you’re gonna pass out in a puddle of sweat, or pop like an over ripe tomato. No matter, until we finally came out the other end of it, it’s just been an unmotivated, uncreative existence. Today the urge finally hit me. The words began to flow in my head to the point of needing to pick up the pen and paper, and share.
It’s hard to remember good things to write about, although I know there were plenty. Why does it have to be big? Perhaps just the joy of watching something as brilliant and humbling, as the sun melting into the ocean each night. Maybe it is the feeling of the warm ocean and fine sand beneath your feet as you walk down the beach admiring the brightly colored beach bars and restaurants. Or it could be one word and a hand gesture symbolizing a lotus flower, used as a greeting, for conveying respect, or just being kind and letting them know they see and hear you… “Kaaaaaa…” or Krub for men. One word that has so much meaning to us now. https://coconuts.co/bangkok/features/thinglish-professional-thais-still-use-ka-krub-speaking-english/
My eyes see the incredible blues and greens of the sea. My ears hear the crashing of the waves, the sounds of the longtail boats, the song of the birds shrill song, morning, noon, and night. The sound of the cicadas wishing the sun good morning and goodnight as it slips below the horizon, grabbing the blanket of night with all its stars. I can smell the sweetness of the salt hanging in the heavy air. My skin burns with the warmth of the equatorial sun and the salt spray turns to tiny diamonds on my skin. You can taste the sweat and salty air on your lips. These are all mesmerizing and just make you feel alive.
We’ve been to 6 islands now in Thailand and Vietnam. Koh Lanta, Koh Naig, Koh Kradon, Koh Muk, Con Dao, and now Koh Phi Phi. We’ve spent nearly 3 months here in SE Asia. When we set out 10 months ago, we had dreamed of spending the winter in SE Asia. We’ve covered but half of the world. I guess one doesn’t realize how big the world is. Some set out to go around the world in a year. I think I am finding that we’ve been a meer skipping stone across the surface of a big pond. This next year we may be skipping across the Americas, perhaps in a van again. Brush up on our Spanish that has taken a third row to learning customs and a few phrases in whatever country we’ve been in. Touch more countries in hopes of finding more places to want to hang our hat someday and use it as the “home base” of our nomadic lifestyle. Delve deeper into the culture and people. Honor them and be respectful. To make more likeminded friends, whom we may only meet on a ferry or bus ride, but immediately have a connection with. The internet and social media indeed has made the world a smaller place and opened our eyes to places we never even knew existed. Our minds are fluid, we can’t stay still for long, but I think we’ve realized that it is nice to have a base from which to venture out from and back to when we feel the need to ground.
Two Travelin' Chicas... 