Cate Brubaker, Author at The Life Nomadic

Bugs, Sweat, and Tears: What No One Tells You About Overlanding

September 7, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

As I write this we are just over a month into what promises to be at least a two-year overland journey from the United States to Ushuaia, Argentina.

Yes. Just one month in and I’m already writing this post.

I know many people who have done this type of trip and some of them have done it several times. It’s life changing, the say. It’s magical, they say. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced, they say.

Deep down in my currently dehydrated heart I want to believe this. I want to know that, at the end of this journey, I’ll feel the same way. I crave that gut feeling that they’re right but my gut feeling these days is more about “Oh fuck, is there a toilet?” However, as a newbie overlander and a sometimes (most of the time) complainer, these are a few of the things I wasn’t exactly (at all) prepared for.

There Will be Bugs

Okay, look. I get it. Bugs are a thing. As I’m writing this something unidentifiable is crawling across my screen and its evil kin is buzzing my ear. I’m no stranger to bugs. I lived in Hawaii and New Orleans where the cockroaches play airplane at night and give zero fucks about you, eating your food, or parking themselves in your hair. I stepped in a fire ant bed twelve years ago and still have the scars to prove it.

What makes this different? I can’t really get away from them and repellent only goes so far. At night it’s not so bad as Moby is pretty well screened up but she’s a hot little number in the daytime so I sit outside and why do flies like me so much? And why does repellent never seems to faze flies? Or ants? And did you know that bees really, really like beer and if even one of them gets a taste they’ll inform their brethren and soon you’ll have a swarm on your hands?

It’s true.

Climate Change

Again, I hate to be such a baby but I’m really bad at dealing with climate extremes, and what seems extreme to me would probably be a blip on the weather radar to you. When it’s hot I drip sweat and feel faint for a few days until I acclimate. When it’s cold I shiver and shake and nothing short of a scalding shower can warm me up.

I’ve been very hot and very cold on this trip of less than a month. Las Vegas was so hot that Moby’s little a/c couldn’t keep up and we only stayed one night. Also, did you know that the west coast of Baja California is cold? In August? Hell, I took a university meteorology course and I couldn’t even figure that one out until I’m bundled in flannel in front of a fire, teeth chattering on a beach in Mexico in August.

I’ve met a lot of people over the last month and many of them stare at my salt and sweat smeared face and say, “Wow. You’re red,” as they flick a single bead of sweat from their upper lip. I don’t know if they’re superhuman or what, but when they comment on the 37-degree heat like they’re commenting on the most mundane of things I want to slap their sweat-free head.

Who’s got a red face now?

Bad Things Happen to Your Body

I’ve become all too aware of my body over the last few weeks, namely how it’s betraying me. You know, those pesky needs to urinate, defecate, eat, drink. One might think, “Hey! You’re just sitting in a truck driving around all day then camping at night. Just like home, right?”

Wrong.

I’ve found myself drinking way too little water because I don’t want to have to find a place to pee to the point that I’ve actually had brown urine one morning. Brown. Any doc worth his salt would have me on an IV immediately. After a night of picking through a kilo of local crab in a spicy paprika sauce, I found myself, exactly 24 hours later, stricken with diarrhea and scrambling across a rocky beach in the middle of nowhere to build a toilet from said rocks because my quivering thighs wouldn’t hold me up anymore.

Cue more dehydration. Did you know water intake is crucial? You’re going to sweat a lot.

And speaking of sweat, this one’s for the ladies. Try and perfect your from-the-back bra fastening skills. You might think that sweat-slick skin is the perfect surface upon which to slide your fastened bra around to the front but you’d be wrong.

Or just abandon all your pricey Victoria’s Secret lingerie altogether. You may as well throw all of your expensive makeup in that hallowed grave too because MAC foundation and sweat do not mix.

At all.

You’re Going to Stink, Badly

Weather plays a big part in any type of travel but something as far-reaching as overlanding means you’re covering several different seasons in some of the hottest and most humid places on Earth. Showers aren’t always available and baby wipes and deodorant can only do so much. You’re going to stink, your partner is going to stink, your clothes are going to stink, your hair is going to stink, and your shoes, if you wear them, will absolutely reek. And the combo of bug spray and rancid sweat is horrific.

DIY laundry solutions are always an option but let’s face it; dish soap and a bucket are poor substitutes for Tide with Downy and a proper washing machine. And a swim in the ocean does not constitute a bath, even if you take some Dr. Bronner’s in there with you.

You’re Going to Fight, Often

Most people undertake this kind of overlanding trip with a partner, usually someone you’re in a relationship with. That makes sense. It’s a lot of work and having a partner to share the duties with is a big deal. But no matter how strong the relationship chances are you won’t always be on the same page, or more likely even reading the same book.

You’ll fight about how one of you (me) is complaining too much. You’ll fight because one of you (me) really wants a toilet. You’ll fight about spending the night at a luxe yet pricey campground versus a free yet barren beach. You’ll fight because you’ve listened to the same 171 songs over and over for days. You’ll fight because your starter went out in a blast furnace somewhere near Barstow and you don’t even have any drugs that will kick in to ease the pain.

And one of you (me) will almost always cry.

You’ll Have to Learn New Words and Their Actual Meanings

Jerry can, boondocking, voltage, inverter, greywater, gross vehicle weight. What are these words and why should I care? Also, at the risk sounding less than feminist, aren’t these guy words?

Well, it turns out that if you’re part of an overlanding duo, regardless of your gender, you need to know these words and more, what they mean, and how they now fit into your brand new lifestyle and lexicon. I’ll leave the fun of exploring these words to you, but these words also involve a lot of work so I don’t know exactly how much fun that will be.

You’ll Wonder What the Fuck You’ve Gotten Yourself Into

I feel like an utter and complete asshole for saying this but I’ve questioned this decision more than a few times in a month. Why this? Why a trip that requires so much work and decision making and complications? Are we really ready for this? Who, in their right mind, does something like this when we could have just moved to Thailand or someplace in Europe for the same cost and half the hassle?

I’m a worrier and an over-thinker so I know my feelings are probably more extreme than most, but for fuck’s sake. Can I really do this? Two years? In a camper the size of the smallest kitchen in any of the huge houses we’ve lived in? Without killing each other? I also tend to be pessimistic (surprise!) so that only makes it worse.

I’m working on that.

You’ll Wonder Why You Didn’t Do it Sooner

So after every horrible thing I’ve said to this point I still think this was the best decision we ever made and I think we should have done it years ago when it first came up. I’ve found myself with a very deep level of respect for Will and the things he knows how to do. He is a problem solver of the best kind and has the skills to back that up.

He’s also been pretty patient with me and he’s not the most patient of people.

Some of the less attractive aspects of my personality have come roaring to the surface. I’m whiny, I’m lazy, I’m a creature of habit and comfort. None of these are conducive to this or any healthy lifestyle. I need to shed those habits and embrace more joy and spontaneity and learn how to be a truly active participant in my relationship and this journey. These are all good things to know.

And the pods of dolphins seen from deserted beaches and the skies so dark that the Milky Way slides across the night with a brilliance I’ve never seen before in my life help ease the pain.

Those things help a lot.

Captain Jacktastic

August 31, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

Coming up on twenty years ago I met a man.

This isn’t going where you think it’s going.

It was a sultry summer night in Utah at a house party under a tree. I had a slight crush on the guy throwing the party but it was this other man who has made a lasting impression on my life and is one of the finest examples of humanity I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.

His name is Clay.

We became fast friends. We took road trips with my daughter, who was then three, to interesting places like Fossil Butte State Park in Wyoming. We went to parties together. We went to dinner together. We laughed together and we were quiet together. It’s then when you know that you have someone special.

Clay was married at the time but his wife, a lovely woman, worked out of state. Over the course of our time in Utah Clay and his wife separated. It was an amicable separation but a separation does not come without wounds. I recall accompanying him to their shared storage unit so he could begin the property portion of that separation. It’s always fun to look at the things other people choose to keep around but I knew that day was hard for him.

It wasn’t long before I reconnected with an old friend which would turn into a 7 year relationship. Clay also met someone. He met her online in the early days of internet dating. She lived in Alabama and a had a young daughter. My new boyfriend and I made the decision to move to New Orleans. Clay and his new girlfriend would move to Eureka, California. I went with him on the day he bought an old Jeep, the car he would use to move his new family to their new home.

Less than a year later I received the birth announcement in the mail. Clay and his girlfriend had a beautiful baby boy. His name is Jackson James Carver and he shares my daughter’s birthday. I looked at that photo, a delightfully squishy baby all dark hair and bright blue eyes, and I was so happy. I knew Clay would make an amazing father.

In the early 2000’s I wasn’t using email regularly but I’d write letters to Clay and sometimes we’d talk on the phone. Things weren’t going well. Little baby Jack had a disease called tuberous sclerosis, which can cause a multitude of severe symptoms, the worst of which is the development of large but benign tumors in the brain.

The seizures started when Jack was just a baby. Life flight trips to hospitals in San Francisco became routine. Little Jack had brain surgery to remove as many of the tumors as they could, the ones that were causing cranial pressure and affecting other portions of his brain. Then it slowly became clear that Jack had autism as well.

Clay and I kept in touch as I moved my family from New Orleans to Hawaii. He had returned to university to study special education all while managing his son’s life-threatening condition. And his relationship was falling apart.

I never met Jack’s mother but she and Clay separated when Jack was about five years old.

But Clay wasn’t alone. One night Clay went to his car to find a note under the windshield wiper. A woman had spied his Mystery Science Theater 3000 bumper sticker and couldn’t resist.

Enter Tina.

When we began planning our trip we knew that we had finite time in the United States and that was hard. There are so many people that I’d love to see, people who live in amazing parts of the country. But since we had to head west and eventually south I knew Eureka had to be on the list. I hadn’t seen Clay in far too long and I wanted to meet Jack.

And I very much wanted to meet Tina.

When we arrived in Eureka after a full day of switchback turns and passing lanes from Lassen National Forest there was Clay. Big, solid, and smiling from ear to ear, just how I remembered him.

And there was Jack, now 14, in a wheelchair due to a recent fracture of his leg. The medications that he has to take cause osteoporosis. I smiled at Jack and, per Clay’s instructions, said, “Hi Jack! I’m Cate.”

“Hi, Cate.”

Will introduced himself as well, and Jack replied in kind.

Clay, always the consummate host, offered us wine and food and I looked around their lovely, cozy home with a sweeping view of the Pacific and Jack’s “spinning garden”. Pinwheels big and small, plastic and metal, were firmly planted in the corner of the yard.

Jack likes spinning.

Tina wasn’t home when we arrived but I was anxiously waiting. She and I had been friends on Facebook for some time, and I knew her to be as fierce with a sewing machine as she was with her heart. I expected a rare breed of tormenta.

Then, there she was. All hair and smiles and hugs and she grabbed my face and said, “Look how beautiful you are!” Then her attention went to Jack.

It’s not often that you can see love as a physical thing. In most cases love is intangible, a feeling, a knowledge, but when I watched Tina greet Jack my first and only thought was, “This is what love looks like. Love is Tina Carver.”

Tina and her daughter, who was on vacation while we were there so we didn’t get to meet her, swept into the lives of Clay and Jack and made what could have been a pitiable situation a thriving one. She dove heart first into Jack’s condition, learning the ins and outs of a mysterious disease like tuberous sclerosis, and started a blog called Captain Jacktastic to muse, share information, and let all of us know more about the disease and about her boy.

We spent five days with Clay, Tina, and Jack and it was glorious. We visited the redwoods and ate sushi. Tina made a makeup bag and a pair of pajama pants for me. I learned that Jack asks for things by saying “Yes, chips!” or whatever the thing is. Jack also decided that Will’s name is “Wow”.

“Hi Wow.”

It was adorable.

One morning while Tina was working Clay, Jack, Will, and I took a boat ride around the bay near Eureka. It’s one of Jack’s favorite things to do. It was a weekday and there weren’t too many people waiting for the boat, but Jack stands out. He was excited and impatient and didn’t hesitate to vocalize this. The few families that were waiting were polite in that way that we’ve been trained to be polite in the presence of a special needs child which, in many cases, is with furtive glances and turned backs. Since Jack was in his wheelchair we got to board first and were seated at the back of the boat.

A few of these families had teen children, likely Jack’s same age of 14. Of course, they weren’t rude but there were stares. As I sat there, taking some photos of Jack and Clay, I saw these kids looking. All I felt was pride.

They don’t know Jack.

On the early morning that we left we whispered a goodbye through the window to Tina, her sleepy face so beautiful and so lovely. We got on the highway and headed south and I turned to Will and asked what he thought of my friend’s family.

He just shook his head.

“That’s not a family. That’s a clan, a tribe. Few people will ever have what they have.”

He’s right.

Author’s Note: While I am against censorship in all forms I have received some comments on this post that I have chosen not to make public. I understand there are two sides to every story and I know only one. I have retracted a portion of this story to reflect this. However, this post, which celebrates love in the best possible way, is not the place for negative conversations. All comments are reviewed by admin before approval. Any further questions can be emailed directly to me at cate@thelifenomadic.com. Thank you.

Well, Shit!

August 24, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

Tomorrow marks three weeks on the road. Those weeks have mostly been filled with shopping, picking up packages, and fast food.

But by the title of this post you may think it’s all about the terrible. Like limping across Nevada on 7 spark plugs, or replacing a radiator in Fresno, or changing a starter in Barstow.

Nope. This post is about shit.

Hey, I get it. Pooping isn’t something that we really want to talk about. However, when ou live in a camper it becomes something that you not only talk about but obsess over.

“When’s the next OXXO?”

“Could I really bring myself to poop on the side of the road?”

I mean, come on, public pooping is hard. I’ve always enjoyed that moment in my house when my body says, “it’s time to poop!”

And I go to my well-appointed bathroom and sit down on a toilet. Maybe I’ll glance at my phone or read the shampoo bottle. Regardless, my whole life has consisted of poop freedom.

Then we hit the road.

According to Will we had a choice of toilet or generator for Moby and he chose the generator. I can’t argue with that; electricity is nice. But what about the pooping?

While we were in the United States it bad. I’d resort to truck stops and Wal-Marts. I shivered and shook as I tried to poop. Oh jeez, what if there are farts involved? What if the person in the stall next to me can hear the plops? What about the smell? What if it’s such a big poop that I have to flush twice?

Then we got to Mexico.

Our first stop had a nice bathroom and few campers. I pooped freely and it was delightful. However, when we left there and headed for our first wild camping stop I panicked.

Fuck.

I should have pooped before we left.

So we arrive at a beautiful, wild place on the coast with nothing around save a guy fishing and a hostel on the hill above us.

And I really need to take a shit.

So, ecological practices be damned, I scaled down the cliff toward the sea and dropped a deuce.

Not pleasant.

I buried it as best I could and scrambled my way back up, hungry for the wet wipes in the truck.

In short, I can see this trip, in many ways, as finding places to shit. While I definitely don’t want to define it as such it will be a thing.

So yeah. Shit.

Goodbye San Cristobal, For Now

July 19, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

Catedral_San_Cristobal_de_las_Casas — Catedral San Cristobal de las Casas

I went out this afternoon. I turned the corner and followed the familiar route past the hospital and the family that sells the most beautiful plants and flowers. I sidestepped my way through traffic and made it to the pedestrian street.

It was here that I paused for a moment.

Spending a year in San Cristobal was a privilege. That fact is not lost on me. Learning more about Mexico as a whole through the perspective of this beautiful, little slice of it has changed me. A lot has changed in the year that I’ve been here, both within Chiapas and myself. That’s really all I can ask from any experience.

So as I went out today I did so without my camera. I thought about taking one last photo of the cathedral, finally taking a snap of Sun Dog, the dun-colored mongrel who always manages to find the sunny parts of Guadalupe Street and avoid the feet of the passing tourists, or the little patio at La Lupe, where I’ve eaten way too many tacos al pastor.

Wait. Scratch that. You can never eat too many tacos al pastor.

So I walked. I looked at the tourists who had likely just dropped their bags at the hostel and planted their feet on Guadalupe Street, wondering which church to head for first. I smiled. I remember how that felt. San Cristobal grabs you in an embrace that says, “Look at me. I’m beautiful, but look too long and you’ll never be able to look away.”

That’s what happened to us.

But in some deep recess of my often confused soul, I knew that our time here was a waiting one. A small break of sorts. And while I don’t necessarily believe in callings in the way that others do, I think we were called here, then told to wait.

And wait we did. We waited and the thing we wanted came to us.

So I bought my taxi ticket for my journey to the airport tomorrow. I walked a bit more and passed the shoeshine boys and selfie-stick Pablo. I passed the small group of protestors who are slowly rebuilding their camp in front of the cathedral, the one that was dismantled for the Pope’s visit back in February. Everything was how it’s always been here in San Cristobal, for the most part.

And that’s when I got a little misty.

We’ve changed so much here, yet here has changed very little.

So as I put the final touches on my packing I can only hope that something, anything, changes here in Chiapas, so when we come back through this area we aren’t forced to skip it because things are still the same.

Because when I leave for the airport tomorrow it will just be getting light, but I know I still won’t be able to look away.

What’s Going on in Chiapas?

July 7, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

All photos for this post were graciously offered by Alerta Chiapas and are used with permission. Visit their website or follow them on Facebook and Twitter for up to date information.

Yesterday I boarded a plane from Salt Lake City and prepared to head home to San Cristobal de Las Casas, Mexico and I was worried. It had nothing to do with my incredible fear of flying and everything to do with the fact that I wasn’t entirely sure that I’d actually be able to make it home from the airport in Tuxtla Guttierez to San Cristobal.

You see, over the last month or so things in Chiapas and the neighboring state of Oaxaca have taken an interesting turn.

The teachers in Mexico are up in arms. Depending on who you talk to they have every right to do so or they’re royally fucking things up and are putting innocent people in harm’s way. Roadblocks are the name of the game these days and life for many people in Oaxaca and Chiapas has changed dramatically. Major highways are shut down and while the protestors are generally letting personal vehicles through, commercial vehicles are sitting idle for days while their cargo languishes, unable to get to the stores and markets in the region.

Wal-Mart is even contemplating closing all of its Oaxaca stores because they simply can’t get their products to the store shelves.

Things in Oaxaca turned violent a few weeks ago as protesters and federal police clashed over the blockades. The presence of the federal police in both Oaxaca and Chiapas is astounding in its numbers, but as the federal government takes their time and mulls how to properly address the situation the roadblocks remain and travel is severely restricted.

So why are the teachers so incensed? Again, that depends on who you talk to. To keep this as succinct as possible, the federal government wants very badly to implement measures to reform the nationwide education system. This includes assessment tests of the teachers to ensure they’re qualified for the subjects they teach. The educators are protesting this fact which appears to most outsiders to be ludicrous. Why wouldn’t they want to prove their qualifications?

Again, it depends on who you ask, but some sources claim that the teacher’s union is as corrupt as other aspects of the rest of Mexico, and since many teaching positions are bought or inherited through the union some of these teachers may lack a college degree or proper training, therefore they can’t pass the tests. Others claim that the government in placing unfair expectations on the teachers and is unwilling to assess the situation on a case by case basis.

While the bulk of the roadblocks and clashes are taking place in Oaxaca, Chiapas is following suit. Tuxtla is bearing the brunt of these roadblocks and the city is on virtual lockdown. Most major roads within the city are blocked by protesters around the clock and while the federal police are there, it seems they’re not yet ready to forcibly remove the blockades and begin mass arrests.

Other roads throughout the state of Chiapas are blocked and these include the access points to some of the major tourist attractions in Chiapas, such as Agua Azul, Palenque, and Lagos Montebellos. Reports have surfaced of robberies of tourist busses at Agua Azul and the road in and out of Palenque has been plagued by robberies for months. This has resulted in a sharp decrease of tourists in the state and crushing revenue losses for the hospitality industry.

The highway between Tuxtla and San Cristobal has been left open during these troubled times but a few days ago a road block popped up. It was this that concerned me as I booked my ticket home. Alerta Chiapas reported that a detour was in place ensuring that traffic could pass despite the hassle. But how long would that detour remain?

Yesterday as my flight began its approach to Tuxtla and I gazed out the window at the lush green landscape that comes with the rainy season I wondered what I’d find on the ground. Would a taxi be able to get me home? I bought my ticket with no fuss and as I climbed into the taxi I asked the driver about blockades. He replied with “solo un bloqueo poco” and seemed unconcerned. However, as we exited the airport road for the highway I was relieved we were turning right, as the left lane was choked with cars, a small crowd of people, and makeshift roadblocks fashioned of old tires.

When we were nearly to San Cristobal we left the highway and began the detour around the roadblock. It added about thirty minutes to the trip but I made it home safe and sound despite the crowds of people marching in San Cristobal and the mile long line of cars behind them. Then as we passed Avenida Insurgentes, one of the major streets in the central part of San Cristobal, there was a tent city blocking the road. However, this tent city wasn’t erected by teachers; the health care workers are striking too.

Workers across the country are showing their solidarity with the teachers and expressing their dissatisfaction with the Mexican government as well. Health care workers marched in Mexico City to oppose reforms proposed by the government. It seems that just about everyone in Mexico has reached their breaking point and how the government will respond remains to be seen.

So what’s the takeaway from all this?

I’ll never claim to be an expert on politics in Mexico, or any place for that matter. What I’ve presented here is comprised of information from local and national news outlets and conversations I’ve had with local Chiapanecas. My own opinions color everything I write so some might disagree, but that’s okay. After all, I am a foreigner here and I’ll always defer to the Mexican people, as they know their country better than I do.

But I do see a situation the Mexican people are passionate about and a government that is scrambling to find a solution.

But I also don’t see that solution as one that will happen soon or one that will be acceptable to the many people involved.

And in that way, we are all these Mexican people, are we not?

Come Live in San Cristobal de las Casas

May 18, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

When we left Tulum last August our destination was Mexico City. We decided to make a bit of an adventure of it and break up the long bus trip with a few stops along the way. The first of those stops was San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas. As we were leaving Tulum and informed a friend of our plans he replied with this.

“You’re going to get to San Cristobal and never want to leave.”

He was right.

We got off the bus and never got back on. We found a perfect house and signed a year long lease. We bought furniture and contemplated applying for permanent residency in Mexico. We fell in love with this idyllic mountain town and never wanted to leave.

Then we decided it would be better if we bought a truck and embarked on a road trip to end all road trips: The Pan-American Highway.

Hell, at least things are never dull around Casa de Brubaker.

So now, as we count down to the end of our lease on August 11, I’m feeling a bit blue about leaving this house. You see, I’m convinced that we rented the best house in San Cristobal. It’s just minutes from the city center, it has plenty of space, a rooftop terrace with nearly 360-degree views, and it’s cheap. Damn cheap.

However, no matter how blue I may feel, this house will be rented by other people come August, and the wonderful owners have asked us if we could help them spread the word. They’re nice people, they bought our furniture from us, so how can I say no?

So here are some of the house specifics and some not so stellar pics. But frankly, no photos can do justice to this place and all of the things that come with it.

First Floor

The house has two entrances from the street. One entrance comes through a small patio and the other entrance is through the one car garage. The garage is inside the house and we have parked a car in it, but I think the space is better suited to a ping pong table.

The next stop is the living room, which features a three piece comfy couch set, a big ass TV, and coffee and side tables. The dining room is just off the living room. We never bought a dining table but there is a woodworking shop just across the street and they’d be happy to make one for you.

Just off the dining room is the main floor bedroom with full ensuite bath and an antique wardrobe. It’s dark, cozy, and quiet back there and is furnished with a double bed. I love it.

The kitchen is small and there isn’t much in the way of counter space, but we’ve made it work. The kitchen comes complete with place settings for four, cutlery, kitchen utensils, an espresso machine, blender, mixing bowls, and more. You could easily walk in with a bag of groceries and make a complete meal. And have a shot of tequila while you’re at it because we’re leaving shot glasses too.

Second Floor

The second floor features four rooms, three with full ensuite baths and another that has no window to the outside, so it could be either a bedroom or an office. We use it as the latter. There’s also a separate full bath in the hallway and a small terrace. The three bedrooms and the office feature built in wardrobes/closets and have plenty of storage. Two of the bedrooms are furnished, one with a king bed and the other with a double.

Third Floor

This is what sealed the deal for me. The third floor is a huge rooftop terrace which also features a stand-alone studio apartment with a full bath, countertop, kitchen-style sink, and gas hookups for a small oven/stove. We use this space when we host parties on the roof, and there’s nothing quite like a party on the roof in this house.

This house is available after August 11 and will be available for viewing toward the end of July. We won’t disclose the address until that time for privacy reasons. If you’re interested in spending some time in this beautiful part of southern Mexico please contact Sra. Eva, the owner, at evytrejo@gmail.com for more information.

The rent will be 12,500 Mexican pesos per month on a 12 month lease. The rent will be 13,000 Mexican pesos per month on a six month lease, and nothing less than six months will be considered. All utilities are the responsibility of the renter. No pets are allowed.

If you have any questions about San Cristobal feel free to ask in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer. But really, this little city has magic in abundance and a year or so spent here will not be wasted.

A Chiapas Road Trip

May 12, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

San Cristobal is a desirable place from the viewpoint of an expat. It has exceptional weather, a very low cost of living, gorgeous scenery, and it’s a 60-minute taxi ride from an airport and flights that will have you in Mexico City in about an hour.

However, unlike other cities in Mexico like San Miguel de Allende, Puerto Vallarta, and Playa del Carmen there is a distinct lack of an expat presence. That’s not to say there aren’t expats here as there most certainly are, but there is no real, cohesive expat community.

On one hand that’s a good thing. There is no us versus them mentality among the locals (as much as some might argue against that, I’ve seen it as a very real thing) but there is also no Facebook page where I can ask about things like hairstylists that can do blonde highlights or who is the best English speaking dentist and get immediate answers.

During our ten months here I can count the friends we’ve made on one hand. Two of these people were introduced to me via a mutual Facebook friend. Tom and Maya were living in Campeche and wanted to explore an area that wasn’t so damn hot. They arrived with the hope of purchasing property, and at that time Will and I were seriously considering becoming permanent residents of Mexico.

My how times have changed.

We bought a truck and will leave in August and Tom and Maya are leaving for Asia at the end of the month. This past weekend we all piled into a rented Jeep Patriot and took off for a weekend road trip through Chiapas, and these are the shenanigans we got up to.

Embarrassing Disclaimer: Will and I have been here for nine months and have explored very little of the state of Chiapas.

Cascadas el Chiflón

Located near the city of Comitan and about 70 kilometers from San Cristobal are the stunning waterfalls called Cascadas el Chiflon. Chiapas is teeming with waterfalls but most visitors flock to Agua Azul, as it’s closer to one of the other Chiapan hotspots, Palenque.

As we left San Cristobal behind I was delighted to be reminded of what I already know; we live in an alpine forest. Towering pines crowded toward the edge of the road, the traffic was light, and if it hadn’t been for the topes (Spanish for “Slow down or I’ll fuck your car up”) we would have made it to our hotel in an hour.

Regardless, when we did arrive it was to find a quaint little collection of souvenir booths, a row of modest yet comfortable rooms, a restaurant, and the sound of the rushing river in the background. As the light was beginning to fall we dropped our bags, took a short stroll along the river trail, hit the restaurant, then went to bed with the soothing sound of the river directly outside the window.

Unfortunately, I was so soothed that I slept until almost 9am and missed the morning hike to the top of the series of falls. Therefore, we mostly rely on Will’s photos for this portion of the series, because after breakfast we were back on the road.

Where we stayed: Cabanas at Cascadas el Chiflon. At 400 pesos per night, these rooms directly on the river can’t be beat.

Lagos Montebellos

Nudging the border with Guatemala this series of 59 lakes was the first designated national park in Chiapas and is now a UNESCO biosphere reserve. As we started the three-hour drive from Comitan we passed through grassy flatlands with almost nothing and no one in sight, until we spied the cemetery on the side of the road.

We stopped for a bit and trudged through the dusty grass to see the tiny cemetery, and many of the graves were simple concrete slabs with names and dates etched in with a stick. I imagined that the families of the deceased made a careful decision as to which member had the best stick handwriting.

The grassland turned to pine forest almost immediately, and when we left the highway to enter the national park the climate changed dramatically. The temperatures dropped and the view outside the car window was equal parts Oregon and Panama, as towering pines were battling with bromeliads and the swirling mist conquered everything.

The gray skies obscured the brilliant blues that these lakes are known for, but as we bumped along the gravel road to our hotel for the night, shivering in the shorts I thought we’d need, I was still enchanted. As I mentioned before, if I hadn’t known better I’d have thought we were in Oregon.

Our hotel, which was basically a series of cabins on the lakeshore, was hosting a large group and as the manager led us to our cabins it was hard not to think that they’d been built overnight. The earth was still torn up around them, the boards and slats were shiny and new, and newly-interred plants sagged listlessly in front. It was as if someone said, “Oh shit. We have four people with reservations and nowhere to put them. Quick! Build some cabins!”

The lake was beautiful and the area surrounding it was quiet with a number of small restaurants serving comida tipica. It was a lovely evening, but we had one more stop on our road trip and Sunday’s drive was the long one.

Where we stayed: Ecolodge & Villas Tzicao. For roughly 50 USD per night including breakfast, this was a fine place to enjoy the lake.

The Ruins at Tonina

To close the road trip circle our final stop was at the lesser known ruins of Tonina. Chiapas is packed with ruins but most visitors focus on Palenque. Tonina is special as it was just over five years ago that excavators realized the true scope of this ancient site when they unearthed what is said to be the largest pyramid in Mexico.

To get there we had to drive back to Comitan, then head northeast through gorgeous grasslands and more pine forests and straight through Zapatista country. The small towns that we did pass through still displayed billboards and painted walls emblazoned with the EZLN logo. Old resentments die hard here and if you want to know more I’ll recommend the book “Bordering on Chaos” to anyone who will listen.

When we got to the ruins we were pleased to find that the entrance was free and we pretty much had the place all to ourselves. There were no ropes, no guards, and climbing was encouraged. I retreated to the shade of the small cafe, but the pyramids were mesmerizing and the ancient ball court was remarkably intact. If you’re in the area and want an uncrowded and largely unspoiled ruin experience, I highly recommend Tonina.

After we piled back in the car we made the three or so hour drive back to San Cristobal without incident, which is fortunate as the locals tend to block the roads without notice and may or may not let cars, trucks, and busses though with a fee. This is happening more and more frequently here and as our time in Chiapas is winding down I wonder how the locals and the feds will resolve this as well as the many other issues that have plagued this state for over 20 years.

And it’s not a final goodbye for us. We’ll be passing back through Chiapas sometime early next year as we prepare to cross into Guatemala on our road trip to the end of the world. However, I still wonder if things will be different then, or if this almost forgotten state in Mexico will get the justice it deserves.

Couchsurfing: 7 Tips from a Host to Potential Guests

May 3, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

The reminders on my phone are going off right now. We’ve got a total of six people staying with us over the next week or so. I make a careful mental inventory of sheets and towels, bars of soap, and muse again with mild frustration about the lack of room in our less than spacious Mexican fridge.

No, we don’t run a hostel. We don’t rent out our rooms on Airbnb.

We invite strangers into our home, offer them a bedroom, clean sheets and towels, and private bathrooms. No money changes hands but experiences are exchanged freely.

And sometimes there’s amazing food and booze.

This is Couchsurfing.

Couchsurfing by Osvaldo Montero via Flickr Creative Commons

What is Couchsurfing?

Most of my friends and acquaintances in the travel community are intimately familiar with Couchsurfing, from both sides of the coin. Travelers from all over the world connect via the Couchsurfing website and either offer a space to crash or search for a host in the area they’re visiting. It’s really quite simple.

According to Couchsurfing’s website, their core mission is as follows, “We envision a world made better by travel and travel made richer by a connection. Couchsurfers share their lives with the people they encounter, fostering cultural exchange and mutual respect.”

We’ve met a number of people through Couchsurfing, many of whom we remain connected with today. It’s been incredible to follow along with the people we’ve become friends with and see them go on to do incredible things. We met Lainie Liberti through Couchsurfing, and she and her son Miro now run Project World School, which offers learning retreats for teens and young adults around the world. Then there’s Buba and Dixie, who we met in Peru. They now own a language school, LIOTA, in Merida, Mexico and give back to their community in some pretty amazing ways. Then there was the lovely and brilliant photographer from Paraguay who stayed with us in Panama. She and I drank wine and talked late into the night, and I knew then that we’d be friends for life.

We would never have crossed paths with these people had it not been for Couchsurfing.

Will and I host couchsurfers regularly and have done so for years. Also, as we tend to live in some pretty attractive places amongst travelers and backpackers we get a very high number of requests. Currently, I receive at least two messages per day. Of course, we can’t host everybody, nor do we want to, but there are a few reasons why I might choose one request over another, or reject someone automatically.

As an experienced and popular Couchsurfing host, here are some of my best tips for surfers to land the best possible Couchsurfing stay during your travels.

Attend Couchsurfing meetups in your area. If you’re new to Couchsurfing I highly recommend attending a local meetup. These events happen all over the world and are a great way to meet other surfers and learn more about the process.

Fill out your profile completely. This is your introduction to your potential hosts and they want to know as much about you as possible. Couchsurfing offers a very detailed profile template so be thorough and creative. I’ll immediately delete requests from people who don’t have a complete profile.

Verify your profile. In addition to your personal information, Couchsurfing offers ways to verify your profile. You can do this by entering your phone number, address, and, if you choose, make a one-time payment. I tend to choose people who have at least partially verified their account, but since we’ve never made the payment I don’t rule out guests who haven’t done so either.

Have references. References are something akin to the lifeblood of Couchsurfing and they help to create a safer experience for all parties. Even if you’re new to Couchsurfing you have the option to add personal references, and I strongly recommend doing so. After you’ve hosted or surfed or both, all parties involved will write their own references and thoughts about the stay. If a surfer has no references of any type I generally won’t accept the request.

Send a proper email when making your request. When I receive requests I just love when guests have taken the time to write a proper email. If a request is simply a date and a few words indicating they’d like to stay with us I’m less likely to accept the request. Those that send an email introducing themselves and explaining why they’d like to stay with us have a much better chance of landing a few nights at our house.

Read the host’s profile thoroughly. Taking the time to read the host’s profile is imperative. Not only does this give you the chance to certain you’re a good fit for the surfing situation but you’ll get a better idea of who your hosts are. Will you be sleeping on the floor? What’s the bathroom situation like? Are your hosts strict vegans? It’s best to go into this with as much information as possible. I can usually tell when a guest has read our profile by their email request, and I always give preference to people who indicate that. Something like, “Oh, you lived in the United Arab Emirates? I went to Dubai last year!” in an email will always win out over another request that makes no reference to our profile.

Stay in touch. We all know that travel is by nature unpredictable, but if you’ve made an agreement to arrive on Thursday but something has come up to delay that, by all means send a message. It’s frustrating when we as hosts have planned for a specific arrival time and date, only to have someone not show up or bother to send a message.

Of course, once you’ve secured your stay and arrive to meet your host, politeness and common courtesy go a long way. Ask about the house rules, ask if you’ll have a key, and ask if you can help out with chores. While no money is supposed to change hands (some unscrupulous hosts do ask for a fee) it’s always nice to offer to cook a meal for your host or bring a bottle of wine. I especially love it when our guests offer to cook a meal that’s popular in their native country.

Travel can be expensive and no one knows that better than we do. By hosting couchsurfers we know that we’re not only going to meet incredible people, but we’re also helping fellow travelers save a bit of money on lodging, which in turn helps them get a little further down the road.

Have you used Couchsurfing? What has your experience been like? Let us know in the comments!

Staying Connected on the Road

April 29, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

One of the most pressing issues that we’ll have to deal with on this trip of an indefinite length is staying connected. And by connected I mean the all-important internet. It’s absolutely imperative that we have reliable and stable connectivity to the internet throughout this journey. Even parts of the United States that we’ll pass through have spotty coverage.

And it’s not so I can post photos to Facebook and Instagram; it’s because we have to work. This isn’t a vacation. It’s another, more difficult version of a remote lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean we can always be relaxing on an unspoiled beach. A good portion of this trip will find us in places where we’ll have access to reliable internet, but there will be times when we’ll have to get creative.

There have been many people who work remotely who have done this before. We know it can and has been done successfully and here are just a few of the ways we’ll maximize our wifi connectivity to make sure that we minimize any negative impacts on our work.

We’ve got a brand new, gas guzzling mouth to feed!

Mobile Data

As long as there is a sufficient 3 or 4G signal we can use our phones as mobile hotspots. We actually had to do this several times in Tulum, as the internet went out almost daily. Most of the US and Mexico has decent mobile coverage, and it can be better or worse depending on where we’ll be. However, since our journey through Mexico will be confined to the western and central parts of the country, including major cities, this will be a very viable option.

After Mexico? That remains to be seen.

Marine Wifi Extenders

Mostly used on boats, hence the name, marine wifi extenders are becoming more popular with people doing exactly what we’re planning to do. Basically, these antennae amplify distant wifi signals, making it easier to connect, especially in rural areas.

These are not inexpensive gadgets, and the price goes up with the antenna’s range and various options. Many claim to have a range of about 7 to 10 miles, but some claim a range as high as 25 miles. These claims are based on “ideal conditions” and I have yet to see “ideal conditions” defined in the context of this type of equipment. Also, those claims are targeted at the marine market sector. If you’re on a sailboat the line of sight to shore is generally unobstructed. Shore is where the wifi access point is. We won’t have that line of sight because of trees and mountains and buildings and such. How well do they work? I’ve reached out with questions to some fellow overlanders and those that replied mentioned specific brands and models and indicated positive results.

Which one will we choose? That remains to be seen. One of the chief complaints that people have is that they don’t work very well if a “big rig” pulls up next to you in the campground. Fortunately, we don’t anticipate encountering many big rigs. Motorhomes aren’t really a thing outside of the U.S. and Canada so at least that shouldn’t be a challenge or a detriment to our connectivity once we leave the U.S.

Co-Working Spaces

Rising in popularity around the world, co-working spaces are pretty simple. They have desks, wifi, sometimes snacks and coffee, and you pay a fee for a comfortable place to work. A quick internet search gave me results in virtually every area we’ll pass through in Mexico, and decent results for Guatemala, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama. El Salvador and Honduras don’t represent well, but we don’t plan to spend much time there anyway.

This will be especially handy as we visit the larger cities on our list.

Bars, restaurants, cafes and hostels often have free wifi for patrons and we have used these types of establishments to get connected in the past and will continue to do so in the future.

Campgrounds

Campgrounds with all the bells and whistles are popular in the United States, but they’re almost as popular and abundant in Mexico. Hot showers, kitchens, electricity, and wifi are always the most popular perks. Add to that the amazing website and app, iOverlander, and we can find campgrounds and RV parks that will allow us to stick around for a while and work without worry, anywhere in the world.

Seriously, check out their website. It’s pretty amazing.

Social Media

One of the best ways to stay connected is to ask other people how they do it, and social media is a great place for that. I’m a member of several overland and travel groups on Facebook, and the communities there are very, very helpful. From safety concerns to the best places to get propane, there is always someone who’s got the answer. If we’re searching for a locale with good wifi, I just need to pop into one of my groups and ask.

Learning from the Pros

Obviously, we aren’t the first people to do this, nor will we be the last. I’ve come to learn that overlanders are a tightly knit community, and are always happy to share tips and personal experience with others.

Plus, we know people who have done this. The former owners of Moby have pledged to answer as many questions as we can throw at them. We follow the blogs of friends and others who work remotely from their mobile homes. All the information we could ever need is out there, and thankfully that information comes from passionate and knowledgeable people who are happy to share.

Will has at least three co-workers who live and work from the road. Some of them have blog posts detailing how they stay connected and since they’re co-workers, it’s easy to have a chat with them and get deeper details on what works and what doesn’t. Check out some of their tips on connectivity here and here.

There is also the RV Mobile Internet Resource Center, run by some people who have been full-time digital nomads and working from an RV for quite some time (they might be pioneers). It’s not a free site, but given that staying connected is such a high priority for us, we purchased a membership. The membership fee purchased heaps of valuable advice and recommendations from others who have blazed this trail before us. You can see what they have to offer here.

We both realize that staying connected is vital during this trip. Some people have concerns about the viability of a constant level of adequate wifi that will allow us to work and meet the expectations of our employers. It’s impossible to promise that we will always be connected, but wifi issues can happen no matter where you are in the world.

All we can do is make sure that we’re equipped with the tools that we need, and I think we’ve got that covered.

Now What?

April 28, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

I’ll never claim to be a travel expert. In fact, I even doubt the authenticity of those claim to be travel experts. Travel is by nature unpredictable, frustrating, confusing, and can leave you weary and questioning yourself time and time again.

That being said, it’s the only life I have now, and despite everything, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

By now you know that we’ve bought a truck and have a loosely formed plan to drive that beast from the United States to Argentina. This epic road trip will begin in a few short months. Do we have a plan? Kind of. Is it a rigid plan? Absolutely not and it never will be.

That’s the biggest appeal to me right now. No plan means spontaneity and adventure, but that control freak that lives in my head nags at me and reminds me that there will be paperwork, issues with border crossings, and those times when we’ll have miscalculated everything and may end up going to bed hungry or going without showers for days.

Am I still on board? Absolutely. And despite the fact that I say we have a plan, there really isn’t one but this is what the next six months look like, especially if you’re looking at them through murky water.

Leaving Mexico

When you make a choice that will significantly alter the course of your life, you kind of want that life to start immediately. While I’d love nothing more than to leave today, there are a certain number of things that have to take place before we can go.

We still have just under four months left on the lease here in San Cristobal. We debated leaving a month early and forfeiting the deposit, but, in the end, we decided against that. We’ll remain here until August 11, so if anyone had any thoughts about coming to see us you might want to get on that.

I will be spending a month in Utah from late June to late July. My mom is moving to Spokane, Washington and I need to help her pack up her house and dive deep into the unknown that is all of my stuff that lives at her house. It’s nothing big, but it will involve a lengthy process of scanning thousands of photographs, cards, and letters and moving them to a hard drive.

I’ll come back to San Cristobal and we’ll begin clearing out the house, selling the furniture, and winnowing down our possessions to the bare minimum. This will be especially hard for me. I love my clothes, my makeup, and my collection of lotions and potions. I’ve already been told I can’t bring my hairdryer.

Ouch.

The United States

Sometime after the 11th of August, we’ll fly to Salt Lake City where Moby is stored. We only have 24 days to play with before we need to cross back into Mexico, so it’s not going to be a leisurely, make it up as we go kind of trip. So, this is where a semblance of planning has to jump into the ring.

We’ll spend two days minimum in the Salt Lake City area, making sure the truck is ready to go, stocking up on supplies and collecting the things we’ve ordered. After that, we’ll head east to Wyoming, visit some of Will’s family, and then go to Jackson and on to Yellowstone. I haven’t been to Yellowstone in almost 20 years and I’m really excited for this one.

Yellowstone National Park by furfur via Flickr Creative Commons

We’d discussed heading for Seattle and the Olympic Peninsula after that, but ultimately that had to be scratched due to time. I’m pretty bummed about that. I think the Olympic Peninsula is one of the most beautiful places in the world and it was there that I saw my first whales in the wild, a pod of orcas and a minke whale. Plus, Seattle is just a really cool city.

So, in the interest of time, we’ll probably head straight west from Yellowstone to the coast of Oregon. This will probably include a stop in Portland and a continuation down the coast to Eureka, California. I have some very dear friends who live there, and I simply couldn’t leave them out of this itinerary.

Haystack Rock on the Oregon Coast by by dvdmnk via Flickr Creative Commons — Haystack Rock on the Oregon Coast by dvdmnk via Flickr Creative Commons

While I’d love to visit San Francisco again, there just isn’t time. After Eureka, we’ll head southeast to Las Vegas. It would be easy to blow past Vegas and head for Will’s pick, the Grand Canyon, but I had to intervene.

Even though I’ve been around the world, I’ve never been to Las Vegas. While we’ll probably only stay overnight I just have to see it, and I want to eat at one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants. Cheesy, I know, but I really want to experience one of the risottos that constantly trip up the contestants on Hell’s Kitchen and maybe, just maybe, have the opportunity to see the mythical British food unicorn in the flesh.

After Vegas, we’ll see the Grand Canyon. I’ve been there but Will has not. Then we’ll head south and cross the border into Mexico, most likely at Nogales. Or we may cross at Mexicali. That hasn’t quite been determined yet.

Back in Mexico

Here is where the time constraints really come into play. Will has a work function in Whistler, British Columbia in mid-September, so we need to find a base of sorts with a nearby airport and a place to park Moby. Overlanding in Mexico is relatively easy as there are secure campgrounds throughout the country. However, my choice for our first stop is Cabo San Lucas. If I’ve got to be alone for a week I want to do it on the beach.

Cabo San Lucas by by nathanmac87 via Flickr Creative Commons — Cabo San Lucas by nathanmac87 via Flickr Creative Commons

Mexico is generous with their entry and exit requirements, so we’ll have 180 days to spend in the country before we need to leave, and we’ll then cross into Guatemala. Even though we’ve been in Mexico for over a year, there’s still so much to see. Many people underestimate the vastness of this country.

So, for our 180 days in Mexico, these are some of the places I’d like to spend that time in. I’d love to be back in Mexico City during November for their annual Corona Capital music festival. We had such a great time last year and I’m eagerly awaiting the announcement of this year’s lineup. I’d love to be back on the beach during the holiday season, so maybe Puerto Vallarta? Guadalajara, Guanajuato, Puebla, and San Miguel de Allende also make the list. Then, as our time begins to grow short, we’ll come south through Oaxaca and Chiapas and on to Guatemala.

Down the Road

It’s tough to say what will happen after Mexico. Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua each offer a 90-day entry/exit time limit. I’m excited for 90 days each for Guatemala and Nicaragua. El Salvador and Honduras? Not so much. However, as is the nature of this adventure, plans can and will change.

Costa Rica offers a 90-day stay as well. I’ve always had mixed feelings about Costa Rica. It’s a beautiful country but it’s also quite expensive. Luckily, we have a house on wheels so we can save tons of money on lodging, and I’d be lying if I said the idea of camping on the beach for an extended period doesn’t have me starry eyed at this moment.

Punta Mala, Costa Rica by Jacob Christensen via Flickr Creative Commons

Then comes the best part. We get to go back to Panama. I love Panama, but it’s the amazing friends that we have there that are the real draw. However, Panama’s tourist immigration policies can be confusing. Travelers generally get 90 days on arrival, but depending on the agent who stamps you in that number could be higher or lower. It’s kind of a crap shoot. However, the general rule is 90 days, and if you’re driving on a US license in the country 90 days is the maximum.

Because of the fact that we’ll be shipping the truck from Panama to Colombia, we need to ensure that we have plenty of time to get all of that sorted out. Although I’ve heard that it’s not as complicated as some people think.

Panama's Port of Colon by GAC'63 via Flickr Creative Commons — Panama’s Port of Colon by GAC’63 via Flickr Creative Commons

After that, all I know is South America is huge and we’ll have all new plans to make or not make, adventures to have, people to visit, and much, much more.

I really can’t wait.