South America Travel Archives

So This is How It Ends

May 7, 2018 by Cate Brubaker

In February of 2015 Will sat on a hotel balcony in Puerto Escondido, Mexico and wrote a blog post. It was intended to kind of give ourselves a kick in the ass; we were teetering on the cusp of applying for residency in Mexico or doing something dramatically different.

Of course, we went for dramatic. Or at least I think we did. I do have a fondness for flair.

And you all know what happened next. We bought Moby, we bought way too much shit we thought we’d need and didn’t, and hit the road; starry eyed and brimming with confidence, the kind of combination that always means you’re just around the corner from a massive disappointment.

We’ve had several of those disappointments in the nearly two years since we left the United States and set our sights on Ushuaia, Argentina. We were robbed of nearly everything of value in Barranquilla, Colombia; the ubiquitous mañana kept us delayed in uninspiring places for weeks at a time; places we loved bore no resemblance to the way they had fit into our current story; we had to sacrifice a good deal of sightseeing as we were always chasing wifi in order to work.

Disappointment is inevitable when you travel, no matter how you do it. You need a damn selfie stick to get a shitty photo of the Mona Lisa because of the crowds. Your flight is delayed so you miss your connection and the airline graciously gives you a coupon for McDonald’s. A sudden storm means you’re trudging around Chichen Itza with no umbrella and wet shoes. If a trip goes off without at least one hiccup then you’ve got some wizardry on your side.

But it’s every traveler’s nightmare that a trip will be canceled or cut short due to circumstances beyond their control. Circumstances that were never, ever expected.

When It Just Can’t Be Helped

We have met so many different people from so many different places on this journey. Older couples who have a pension and a retirement to piss away however they please. Young people who have saved money and have a small window of time before they have to go back to work. Families who have decided that driving their kids around South America is better than any school. Seriously, you’d be surprised at the many different kinds of people who undertake this trip.

We have a lot of people tell us things like, “I really wish I could do what you do but we have kids.” I think of all the campgrounds we’ve visited that are teeming with kids, finding bath toys in communal showers, and watching superhero moms simultaneously keep one kid from drowning while effortlessly preparing scrambled eggs for five on a propane stove with another wailing kid attached to her leg.

It’s not your kids you need to worry about if you want to take a trip like this; they’ll be fine. In fact, they’ll be more than fine. They’ll be amazing little shits who will grow up to speak four languages and be the problem solvers of the world.

It’s your aging parents that you need to worry about.

My mom’s health has been declining for some time but it’s been gradual and I’ve never really had cause to worry. My daughter was living with her to help her out and everything was fine. I called her about once a week to chat and she always kept up with us on Facebook. I think she took a lot of joy in following along on our journey.

About two months ago I got a message from my daughter. She had recently taken the move to working full time and was out of the house for the majority of the day. She was worried that my mom needed more attention than she could give. She’s also a young woman with a life of her own. Her residence there was never supposed to be permanent; we just never discussed the time when she’d need or want to move out on her own.

Until now.

The End of the Line

What do you do when you’re somewhere in the middle of a trip of indeterminable length with your partner and one of you has to stop? How do you let go of the goal you plotted out together? This isn’t like a few months backpacking around Asia; one of you can leave and say, “I’ll see you in a month or so!” We have at least a year or more before we can feel comfortable saying that we’re done.

But the truth is that we are not done. I am done.

I leave for the states in 12 days. Will does not. A mutual decision was made; Will is going to finish the trip on his own. Our relationship is as good as it ever was, probably better, and I don’t anticipate that changing.

But I have to go.

I am sad. I am sad that I’ll miss Buenos Aires, one of the cities I was most looking forward to. I’m sad that I won’t go to Easter Island, something we had very seriously considered as part of this journey. I’m sad that I won’t revel in wine country or try my hand at polo in Argentina. I’m sad that I won’t be able to say, “I did it. I drove a damn truck to the southernmost tip of the Americas.”

But most of all I’m sad to be leaving my best friend behind.

The cynic in me tends to turn my nose up at silver linings but I do think there is one here. I’m excited to spend time with my mom. We have not lived close enough to each other for regular visits in years. I like her; she’s a really cool person who is fun to be around. While I don’t really love being in the states it’s been a long time since I’ve spent more than a few weeks there and it could be a lot worse than northern Utah.

But most of all I guess I feel a sense of privilege. We’re all going to get old one day; you, me, and everyone we know. If all of us had a person who said, “I’ll help” when the need arises can you imagine how great would feel? I can help my mom stay in her home. I can help my mom in her garden this summer. I can drive my mom up to Bear Lake for raspberry milkshakes. I can simply be there so she’s not alone.

That’s a privilege.

I’ve learned so much on this trip that I somehow wonder how I survived before. Pieces of my DNA have been fundamentally altered; that’s a given when you throw yourself into a sink or swim situation the size of two continents. I’ve become more brave, I’ve become more compassionate, I’ve become more humble, I’ve become more intelligent, I’ve become more of the type of person I’ve always wanted to be.

That’s a privilege too.

So that’s it. That’s all. That’s how it ends. I leave Rio for Utah and Will leaves Rio for the next place down the line. Where that might be is up to him now I suppose. And just like the moment we began planning this trip, this part too is indeterminable. What happens next lives somewhere in the great wide open.

But that’s how it always is, isn’t it?

Belmond Hotel das Cataratas: Dinner at Iguaçu Falls

March 22, 2018 by Cate Brubaker

As we work our way toward two years of camper life one of the things that I notice most is what we eat. Or, should I say, what we don’t eat. Our diets are mainly regulated by our proximity to places that sell food, how much of that food we can fit into our tiny fridge, and if the weather allows our fruits and vegetables to spoil in one day or four. In many ways it’s like living in a dorm. Ramen, peanut butter, pasta, and rice are on the menu almost every day of the week

This is not to say that inventive camper cooking can’t be done. Our friends over at The Next Big Adventure are prime examples of gourmet overlanders and I wish we were tagging along with them. I’d simply park myself close enough to their camper so they’d have no choice but to invite me for dinner every night. However, most nights we’re alone in various campgrounds and the aforementioned staples grace our plastic plates.

But, every once in a while we drag out clothing that passes as smart casual, make sure our hands are clean, take ourselves out of the hoi polloi realm, and make a reservation somewhere that offers tablecloths and matching cutlery.

Oh, and we have to remember to strut in like we belong there. We may be hobos but the maître ‘d doesn’t know that, especially when Will’s shirt has a collar and my nail polish isn’t chipped.

Belmond Hotel das Cataratas

When we arrived in Brazil I was tasked with finding a restaurant where we could drop an obscene amount of money on food and take in my first look at Iguaçu Falls. Our choices were limited as most of the restaurant action takes place just across the border in Argentina. It didn’t take me long to decide on Belmond Hotel das Cataratas. Fancy, formal, and right beside the falls I knew that sparkling wine would be served in something other than a coffee cup and I’d likely have a real linen napkin for my lap.

However, getting there is another story.

Since the hotel is located inside the national park entrance is generally limited to hotel guests only. It took several emails and phone calls to ensure that my name was on some fancy list and that we’d have access to the private gate. That didn’t go quite as planned; in the end we had to ride the tourist bus like commoners but hey, since it was the last bus of the day we did have the whole thing to ourselves.

People in South America eat late. If you find a restaurant open at 7pm you’re lucky. The restaurant at the Belmond Hotel das Cataratas was no different. We found ourselves in the bar area, seated outside on a lovely patio, the falls roaring in the background. As a sipped from my glass (a real glass!) of a surprisingly good and very dry Brazilian Brut our server informed us that the kitchen didn’t open until 7:30pm. We had nearly two hours to kill. So, we did what anyone would normally do in that situation.

More sparkling wine for me, more beer for Will.

When it finally came time to place our order I was torn. I’d had all this time to peruse the menu and I still didn’t know what I wanted. Filet? I always have that. Duck? Oh man, I love duck but I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted. In the end I decided on something wild, literally.

Wild boar with a tamarind glaze and a manioc puree.

It’s been a while since I’ve eaten any kind of game (that I know of) so I was really excited. When my dish arrived I was stunned. A perfect slab of boar belly was placed in the center of a beautiful gray plate, the edges dotted with mustard seed, glistening with tamarind, and nestled in a swath of manioc. This was no camper food.

I picked up my knife and fork only to realize that the knife was useless. This gorgeous slab of meat fell apart at the slightest touch. My first bite was almost a shock; there was the immediate sweet and sour of the tamarind, the smooth taste of pork fat, and that strong mineral flavor that comes from an animal that eats whatever the hell it wants until it dies.

I handed a piece to Will. “Yep. You can taste the adrenaline.”

That piece of boar now ranks as one of my top five meals ever and I’ve eaten some damn good food in my life. We also shared a bottle of Argentinian syrah that I chose from the wine list. Our server praised my choice, indicating that this wine is the sommelier’s pick for the boar. It was, indeed, the perfect wine.

We rounded out our dinner with a simple mixed berry cheesecake and watched the hotel staff prowl the hotel grounds in search of the jaguars that are known to lurk there. Maybe there was a jaguar. I don’t know. I was too busy with that cheesecake.

If there’s one thing that I love more than anything about living in a camper it’s getting out of the camper. Our evening at the Belmond Hotel das Cataratas was exactly what I want when we pretend to be fancy, when we order food we could never prepare for ourselves, and when we have a moment to feel like we haven’t just spent almost two years on the road.

But when the bus deposited us back outside the hotel gate and our taxi was waiting to take us back to the campground I was happy to go.

I wanted to sleep off that wine and boar belly in my own comfy bed.

They’re Going to Kill Us All

March 13, 2018 by Cate Brubaker

I am not a physician nor do I have scientific training in tropical medicine. Please don’t take this as medical advice.

I’ll never forget the day I collapsed onto the street in Siem Reap, Cambodia, two weeks into a seven week trip through that country and Thailand. I had been sick for a few days but we decided to take the bus to Phnom Penh anyway, even though I was burning up with fever that morning. When I hit the ground I dreamily thought the heat of the pavement felt cool on my skin.

Suffice it to say I never got on that bus. Instead I found myself in a Siem Reap hospital, pumped full of fluids and painkillers, and diagnosed with dengue fever. I was released from the hospital after a day or so but it was still a week before I could travel and three more weeks before I started to feel better, really better.

That was almost 14 years ago. Since that time I’ve been the one who is always covered in repellent. I’m the one that hides behind screens at the merest hint of that maddening, whiny buzz in my ear. I’m the one that checks my body for the tell-tale rash if I feel ill after those bitches have pierced my skin with their virus laden proboscises. I’ve been lucky since that time in Cambodia but my luck ran out a month ago in Asuncion, Paraguay.

Mosquitos have been the scourge of the earth and a bane to humankind for millennia. In his book “Slave Trade” author and Georgetown professor John McNeill states that, until the mid-twentieth century, more battle troops were killed by mosquito borne diseases than were killed in actual combat. Malaria was the disease du jour at that time and troops who had not been exposed to the disease promptly got sick and died.

Mosquitos and malaria were also part of the reason why European colonists were unable to penetrate the interior of Africa until the early 1800’s. Quinine, a product of the Cinchona tree native to South America, was brought back to Europe by the conquistadors but it wasn’t until later that British colonists in India discovered that it aided in one’s recover from malaria. The bitter drink was made more palatable by adding sugar and water. Of course, the British took that one tasty step further and added gin to the mixture. What better way to feel like you’re conquering a deadly disease than to do so by knocking back a few G & T’s?

While Africa’s dark interior remained off limits the coastal regions were fair game and in the 15th century when the slave trade began Africa’s mosquitos were stowaways in large numbers. When this same trade expanded to the Caribbean and North America a new breeding ground was formed and those previously unheard of diseases flourished. Mosquitos are opportunists; give them some stagnant water and stable temperatures and they’re almost unstoppable.

Malaria was simply the start. As science progressed more mosquito borne diseases were identified and the numbers are staggering. There’s West Nile virus, equine encephalitis (yes, humans can get it from infected horses), dengue fever, Japanese B encephalitis, yellow fever, malaria, chikungunya, Saint Louis encephalitis, and zika. These are just a few of the mosquito borne diseases that humans contract but they’re the ones most world health organizations pay attention to.

So if you’re traveling to the tropics where these diseases flourish you might think about heading over to the clinic and getting a vaccination, right? Wrong. Currently, the only reliable vaccines available are for yellow fever and Japanese B encephalitis. A vaccine for dengue is available in limited supply in countries hardest hit by outbreaks but it’s not entirely effective. And if you’re in the market for a yellow fever shot you might be out of luck. A current outbreak of the disease in Brazil has effectively depleted the world’s supply of the vaccine. There is no vaccine for malaria but prophylactic medications like doxycycline can reduce your chances of contracting the virus.

As a traveler to mosquito heaven I am keenly aware of the dangers. I was vaccinated for yellow fever in 2011 prior to our trip to the Peruvian Amazon. As a previous dengue victim the vaccine for the virus was recommended to me (priority is given to the elderly, those with compromised immune systems, and people who have had the virus before) but it’s a three shot series over the course of 18 months and weighs in at a hefty 450 USD.

So, back to Asuncion, Paraguay. We had taken a break from camper life and were ensconced in a lovely little apartment. I woke up one morning feeling off and within a few hours I had a massive headache, a fever, and joint pain. I spent that day in bed gulping water and Tylenol and hoping it was just a flu. By the next day I knew I had to see a doctor. I hurled myself into a cab and headed to the nearest hospital. The moment I mentioned dengue to the reception staff I was hustled straight to an exam room. The doctor asked me about my symptoms and promptly sent me to the lab for bloodwork.

As I stated earlier I am no medical professional. However, while I waited for my blood to be scrutinized I did turn to Doctor Google. What they were looking for in my blood was the actual presence of the virus and a check of my platelet and white blood cell count. However, the test for the viral presence is a crapshoot; if the patient has the test too early after symptom onset it’s inconclusive. Antibody tests can also be inconclusive. The test can indicate an active infection or simply indicate that the patient has had the virus at some time in the past. My results were inconclusive for the virus itself, antibody presence was not tested, and my platelet and white counts were low.

That doctor’s diagnosis? Dengue fever. I was sent home with the standard treatment: fluids, rest, and Tylenol.

However, my symptoms never really progressed to the horror I experienced in Cambodia. After a few days I felt better and the fatigue dissipated within a week or so. When I followed up with a different doctor he surmised that I probably had Zika given the relatively mild symptoms. Perhaps I’ll never know what really happened.

But what I do know is this. If you're traveling in the tropics get your shots. Many countries in the world ask for proof of yellow fever vaccination and have the right to refuse entry to those without that proof. And for those who ask questions like, "Do I need a yellow fever card to get into X country" I simply reply to their question with a question.

Do you want yellow fever?

Because mosquitoes don't care about you. They only care about world domination.

More Musings From Colombia

June 5, 2017 by Cate Brubaker

I’m really enjoying my new style of writing. I find myself paying more attention to the things I see and the things I feel. It’s almost as if I’m experiencing this journey in a new light, as cliche as that might sound. So, here are a few of the things I thought about this week, a few photos, and an incredible video that I hope you’ll watch.

The receptionist at the campground/hostel in Valle de Leyva, Colombia told me she likes talking to me more than any other English speaker she’s ever met because I don’t have an accent. She said that all Americans have accents but I don’t. She then proceeded to tell me that British and Australian people are even harder to understand than people from the United States. She also asked me why more French people don’t speak English. Her reasoning is that since France is such a strong country they should teach their children English. I didn’t know quite how to respond to that but when I told Will what she said he replied with “Because they’re French?”

I have a lot of time to think, a lot of periods of extended silence and I take full advantage of that and let my mind wander. Lately I’ve been thinking about Ramadan and our time in the Middle East. We were at the Dubai Mall during our first experience with Ramadan. Even as non Muslims we were still not allowed to eat, drink, or smoke in public during daylight hours. However, at the mall’s food court the counters were jammed with people of all faiths. You see, food could be prepared but not eaten until sunset. We were still in line when the sun dipped below the horizon and the sight of hundreds of people tearing apart bags and boxes to get to that food is something I’ll always remember, along with all the other things I learned about Islam. Sometimes I really miss living in the UAE.

In 2004 I spent two months in Thailand and Cambodia with an ex boyfriend. As part of my preparations for the trip I bought a McNett towel. I still have that towel. In fact, it’s the only towel I currently own. Sometimes I think, “Damn, that towel is 13 years old and I should probably be grossed out about it.” But you know what? I’m not. I love that towel. It works great and dries in a snap. But the real reason I keep it is because it’s the only tangible memory I have of that trip. When breakups happen couples argue about who gets what. Well, he got the photos (print ones, because 2004) and the Lonely Planet book in which we had carefully marked all the things we did. I have a few photos I was able to scan and put on Facebook but the towel is the one thing that reminds me most about that amazing trip, even though I got dengue fever in Cambodia.

Yeah, Werner Herzog is kind of a weirdo but what’s also weird is how often his films have been a significant part of our travel lives. Will met him in Antarctica and Mr. Herzog also has a cameo in a film Will made while he was working there (Herzog was filming Encounters at the End of the World). Then we both traveled to Iquitos, Peru where Herzog filmed Fitzcarraldo. And, we were just in Valle de Leyva, Colombia where parts of Cobra Verde were filmed. I don’t know what this means because I really don’t like many of his films. Perhaps it’s just that his taste in film locations align with our taste in travel. I’ll likely never know. Note: Will has reluctantly agreed to let me share his film. Give it a watch. I think it’s hilarious.

I’m sitting here looking out the floor to ceiling window in our fancy Bogota apartment. I see decidedly less fancy apartments marked by the laundry that’s hung from the dirty windows. There’s an abandoned building that looks like it might have caught fire at one point. Some of the bricks are charred. I can also see a tall office building and as I sat here sipping coffee at 8am it was kind of cool to see the lights start coming on as people began to arrive for work. If our apartment were on the other side of the building we’d have a view of the gorgeous mountains surrounding Bogota. I like this one better. It feels more real.

The view from the couch. Kids! You noticing all this blight?

I love television, good television. We have a fairly impressive library of television series with gems like Six Feet Under, House of Cards, and M*A*S*H*. But the one I turn to time and time again is The Office. If we’re getting to bed later than usual and don’t have time for a movie or a 60 minute episode of a series we watch The Office. When I’m making dinner in the camper I’ll put on an episode or two from a random season. If we can’t decide what we want to watch we watch The Office. And it’s never not funny. I’ve seen the entire series at least four or five times and I always laugh. Always. Will and I throw quotes at each other all the time and “that’s what she said” is part of our mutual lexicon. And don’t even get me started on the part where Kevin drops the pot of chili.

Thanks again for following along as I test out this new style AND stay tuned for a full post about how Will and I grossly misinterpreted a church in a salt mine.

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!

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.

It’s Time for a Change

April 24, 2016 by Cate Brubaker

Will and I have been on a slow move for almost six years. We’ve lived in Taiwan, Peru, the United Arab Emirates, Panama, and now Mexico. We’ve visited more than 30 additional countries. We went to Chernobyl. We visited the Pyramids at Giza. We met then Secretary of State John Kerry at the home of the US Ambassador to Russia in Moscow. We took three road trips through Europe. We’ve seen more places than most people will see in a lifetime.

And I’m bored. We both are.

I hate saying that. I hate feeling that way. Here I am, privileged in a way that few people are and I’m bored.

Our intention was always to avoid our mutual perceptions of life in the United States. We both dreaded the life that often feels forced, a constant cycle of consumerism, work, bills, and little time to feel free from those constraints. However, as time has moved forward, I’ve found that this is exactly where we are now. Although that life takes place in Mexico, it’s still a work week much like any other, with a slapped together dinner and TV until bedtime.

It was only just a few weeks ago that we visited Sumidero Canyon, one of Chiapas’ most famous and beautiful natural wonders. It’s only an hour away from our home and we’ve been here for almost nine months.

When we were living in Huanchaco, Peru in 2011 I met a woman through a mutual friend. It was a brief personal meeting but we became friends on Facebook and I began following her blog. She and her husband had driven from California and were now in Peru. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had always known that people did that, but I hadn’t ever actively followed someone’s Pan American Highway journey. I read her posts voraciously, not only because she’s a fantastic writer but also because I marvelled at their freedom. I wanted that, but I wasn’t sure I had the guts for it.

A few years later when we were living in Panama we were introduced to the Sparks family through a mutual friend. They were on their own Pan Am journey and we needed a housesitter. They arrived at our house in a customized van, a mobile fortress in a way, and with their young son. Before they became parents they had driven from the UK to South Africa. I loved listening to their stories, but I still wasn’t sure that was a lifestyle that I could handle.

Back in February Will and I took a much needed week at the beach. While he’s rarely writing on the blog anymore, I awoke one morning to find that Will had written a post. All of a sudden the idea of our own overland journey was back on the table and Will attacked it with gusto. He began scouring the internet for vehicles that he thought might be a good fit for us, and I sat in the background, jonesing for the adventure I knew we needed but still unsure how it would all play out.

The weekend of April 10th we took a long weekend in Mexico City for our anniversary. While he did take time off work Will’s vehicle hunt hadn’t ended. He’s whittled down his focus in a big way, and was convinced that a Nissan Titan with a camper of some sort was the best choice. We sat next to each other on the bed, and while he browsed car dealerships I logged onto a Facebook group for Pan Am overlanders and saw an ad.

“Are you dead set against a Ford?” I asked. I showed him the ad, I messaged the seller, and a few hours later we were on the phone with him. As I listened in on the conversation, not able to completely make sense of the talk of batteries and propane, a little tilt was going on in my brain.

This was it. I just knew we were going to buy this truck. Will put a flight to San Francisco on hold and we agreed to decide the next day if that flight would be purchased.

It was. We returned home to San Cristobal and Will left a few days later to go meet the truck and her owners. I felt very small in our big house that weekend, waiting for the WhatsApp notifications that kept me on the fringes of the loop that was swirling thousands of miles away.

Exactly one week ago today I woke up to an email. The subject line read “You’ and the body of the email simply stated, “Can announce.” My heart leapt and my then uncaffeinated brain struggled to comprehend what had just happened but I knew on a deep down level that this was it. We were going to take on the responsibility, the stress, the joy, the wonder, and the adventure that we so desperately need in our lives.

This is Moby.

Meet Moby! Photo courtesy of Toby and Chloe Conroy at Carpe Viam

Will drove away from her former Northern California home and headed for Wyoming to get shiny new license plates and registration. He’d WhatsApp me during the drive, hinting at rookie mistakes that he’d already made. He’s still not home, in fact, he’s probably in the air as I write this, but I’m sure he’ll tell me about things that are going to be the first of many mistakes. After all, a trip of this magnitude is not without its struggles, but I know that the joys will far outweigh those.

Right now, Moby is in storage in Salt Lake City. She will remain there until August when the lease on our house in Mexico is up. Exact dates and locations are still up in the air, but that’s part of the bliss that comes with this kind of freedom. Outside of a few restrictions, we can go where we want, when we want.

And as a relationship whose cornerstone is and always will be travel, I know that this journey will affect my marriage in profound ways. Although six years abroad has not been without its challenges, it’s also been a relatively comfortable and easy life. We always had our personal space, we always had enough of what we needed, and we always had people willing to help.

This has all changed. Now we have to reduce our lives to fit into a camper. There will be no room where one of us can go and shut the door when tension erupts. There will be problems; situations that force us to work together and navigate unknown territory. There will be disagreements, and the inevitable silence that’s deafening when you’re trapped in a vehicle with someone you’re currently irritated with.

But all of that aside, I am overwhelmed with how right this feels. This is exactly the decision we needed to make, at exactly the right time. I’m ready, Will is ready, and our relationship is ready for this next step, where we discard what we no longer need, carefully pack the rest, and hit the road.

I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

The Traveler’s Guide to Tipping Internationally

September 14, 2015 by The Hipmunk

Tipping is a hot topic in the United States these days, as rising minimum wages call into question the standard practice of making servers reliant on tips. For travelers abroad, tipping is an equally sticky issue. Figuring out what to tip when can all too quickly turn a relaxing vacation into a stressful one. Knowing what to tip, on the other hand, can empower travelers to navigate a foreign culture with ease.

Because tipping rules vary by country, region, and place of business, it’s important to research your destination’s customs prior to any trip. Start by consulting this guide, which outlines tipping customs in 20 countries around the world, for restaurants, hotels, and beyond!

Argentina

Restaurants: While tipping at restaurants and bars isn’t considered a necessity, many tourists often tip around 10%.

Taxis: Tips aren’t expected, but consider rounding up to the nearest whole pesoso the driver doesn’t have to sort out change. If they help you with your bags, add on a bit more as a token of appreciation.

Hospitality: Tip tour guides up to 20% and always give bag handlers a small bill or two.

Australia

Restaurants: Australian servers are paid decent wages and generally don’t expect tips. Recognize exceptional service by rounding up the bill. In upscale establishments only, tip 10%.

Taxis: While tipping isn’t expected, it’s common courtesy to round up to the nearest whole number.

Hospitality: For the most part, tips aren’t expected within the hospitality industry.

Canada

Restaurants: Canada’s tipping protocols are similar to those in the United States (although most Canadian servers are paid minimum wage before tips). Most restaurants expect a minimum 15% tip.

Taxis: It’s customary to tip cab drivers 10% upon arriving at your destination.

Hospitality: Tip concierges for exceptional service only, leave behind a few dollars (or more) for housekeeping, and give bag handlers $1-2 for each bag they carry.

The Caribbean

Restaurants: Most places in the Caribbean islands follow the same tipping standards as the United States, so in general plan to tip 15% or more. One possible exception: If you’re staying in an all-inclusive resort, check to see if the service charge is included.

Taxis: Plan to tip around $1-2 for in-town fares. Tack on a bit extra for late-night or long-distance rides.

Hospitality: Most hotels include a service charge in the bill. If this isn’t the case, be sure to tip bag handlers ($1-2 per bag) and housekeepers ($2 per day). Many resorts discourage tipping, so use your own discretion.

China

Restaurants: China has a fairly strict no-tipping culture (though some finer establishments may include a 10-15% service charge), so there’s no need to tip at restaurants. If you want to offer a tip for exceptional service, do so out of sight of the server’s employer.

Taxis: Tipping isn’t expected, but it is appreciated (especially in larger cities). Because there’s no customary rate, use your own discretion when deciding how much to tip.

Hospitality: Tipping is usually not expected, although this is changing in more westernized establishments. A good bet is to tip tour guides, housekeepers, and bag handlers a few dollars per day (or bag).

Costa Rica

Restaurants: Tip will be included in the bill at most Costa Rican restaurants. If you want to recognize exceptional service, add another 10% on top.

Taxis: Tips aren’t required, but it’s a friendly gesture to tip a few dollars or round up the fare to the nearest whole number.

Hospitality: Tip tour guides 10-15%, and give a few dollars to bag handlers and housekeeping.

Czech Republic

Restaurants: While tipping wasn’t always standard in the Czech Republic, the custom has been catching on. There’s no need to tip if the bill includes a service charge (though feel free to add on another 10% for great service). If no service charge is included in the bill, tip 10-15%.

Taxis: Round up the fare to the nearest whole number.

Hospitality: Give bag handlers $1-3 per bag, housekeepers $3-5 per day, and concierges $20 if they go above and beyond.

Dubai

Restaurants: The government requires a 10% service charge on all bills at restaurants, bars, and hotels. While it’s not necessary to tip more than that, you’re free to hand over a few extra dirhams to the server.

Taxis: Cab drivers don’t expect tips, but it’s polite to round up to the nearest 5-dirham note.

Hospitality: Because service charges are included in the bill, there’s little need to tip hotel staff unless you want to recognize great service.

Egypt

Restaurants: Tip will be included in the bill at most establishments, but plan to tack on another 5-10%.

Taxis: Pay cab drivers 10-15% beyond the stated fare.

Hospitality: Give housekeepers $1-2 per day throughout your stay, tip $1 per bag for bag handlers, and give the concierge $10-20 at the beginning of your stay to ensure great service.

France

Restaurants: French law requires that service be included in the price, but most locals round up their bills with small change (or up to 10% of the bill).

Taxis: Plan to tip cab drivers about 10%.

Hospitality: Give bag handlers $1-2 per bag and housekeepers around $2-3 per day. Exceptional service from the concierge should warrant 10 or more Euros.

Germany

Restaurants: Germany’s tipping customs work much like France’s: Service is included in the price, but it’s customary to round up the bill to an even figure (this usually amounts to 5-10% of the total bill).

Taxis: Round up to the nearest Euro or tack on an extra few Euros if you’re feeling generous.

Hospitality: While tips aren’t required, it’s courteous to leave behind a few Eurosfor housekeepers and to pay baggage handlers around 2 Euros per item. Slip the concierge 10 or more Euros for great service.

India

Restaurants: Tip 10% for the waiter, even at upscale restaurants (where a 10% service charge is included in the bill).

Taxis: Tips aren’t expected for short trips. If you hire a driver for a long trip or multiple days, tip around 150-300 rupees per day.

Hospitality: Tip bag handlers around 20 rupees per bag and offer tour guides several hundred rupees.

Italy

Restaurants: Tips aren’t expected, but feel free to round up the bill or tip 10% for exceptional service.

Taxis: Tips aren’t expected, but they are appreciated. Use your own discretion.

Hospitality: Ditto the above. Tipping really isn’t expected in Italy, but who doesn’t like being appreciated for good service?

Japan

Restaurants: It’s unlikely that a server will accept your tip, so it’s probably most polite not to offer one.

Taxis: Tips are not at all expected. A simple “thank you” will suffice.

Hospitality: Tour guides don’t expect tips but are likely to accept them. Hotel staff may refuse a tip if offered; you’re more likely to transfer cash if you put it in an envelope and leave it behind for staff, rather than foisting cash into their hands.

Mexico

Restaurants: When service is included in the bill, there’s no need to tip. Otherwise, plan to leave 10-15%.

Taxis: While tips aren’t expected, it’s courteous to round up the fare.

Hospitality: Many hotel staff rely on tips as part of their take-home pay, so be generous. Bag handlers, housekeepers, the concierge, and anyone else who performs a service during your stay warrants a tip. The amount is up to your own discretion.

New Zealand

Restaurants: Like Australia, New Zealand doesn’t have much of a tipping culture. Service and sales tax are almost always included in the bill. Tip only for exceptional service or when the menu states that service is not included.

Taxis: Tipping isn’t expected, but acknowledge great service by rounding up the fair or leaving behind a few small bills.

Hospitality: Ditto the above. Tips aren’t expected, but they’re a nice way to express appreciation for a job well done.

Spain

Restaurants: Locals generally leave small change or round up to the nearest euro, so go ahead and follow suit. If you receive great service or are dining at an upscale establishment, leave a 5-10% tip.

Taxis: Small change, rounding up to the nearest Euro, or a couple of extra Eurosare all acceptable tips.

Hospitality: Pay the bag handler up to five Euros, the person who delivers room service 1-2 Euros, and housekeepers a few Euros for the stay.

South Africa

Restaurants: In nearly all establishments, it’s customary to leave a 10-15% tip for the waiter.

Taxis: Plan to tip cab drivers around 10%.

Hospitality: Tip bag handlers around $1 per bag. Tip other hotel staff at your own discretion.

Thailand

Restaurants: Expectations here vary widely: Some sources advocate for not leaving a tip, others suggest leaving 10-15%, and still others suggest leaving $1 per diner. Keep it simple by sticking with 10% or $1 per person, whichever is more generous.

Taxis: Tips aren’t encouraged, but a tip of 20 or 30 Baht is courteous.

Hospitality: It’s standard to tip bag handlers 20 Baht. While there’s no standard tip for housekeepers, it’s respectful to leave behind a tip (the size of which is up to you).

United Kingdom

Restaurants: If a service charge isn’t included in the bill, tip 10% (or higher for exceptional service).

Taxis: Tip 10-15% for black cabs and licensed minicabs, or just round up to the nearest Euro. Tip extra for help with loading or unloading baggage.

Hospitality: Most hotels include a service charge, but it’s still customary to offer small tips to bag handlers and housekeepers.

No matter where you are in the world, remember that servers, cab drivers, and hotel staff are performing a tough (and often thankless) job. Be both appreciative and thoughtful—try to tip in cash and in the local currency so your server can put the money to good use. And practice discretion when handing out tips, particularly in regions where tipping may be frowned upon. Respecting local customs will go a long way toward make any excursion a positive experience.

This post was originally posted by TheHipmunk on Hipmunk’s Tailwind Blog on September 9, 2015.

Montevideo’s Port Market

July 3, 2015 by Cate Brubaker

I realized that I haven’t yet written about our time in Montevideo. Yes, I also realize that it was almost a year ago that we were there. Yes, I still realize that we were there for three weeks.

Yes, I know that I should have had something to say before now, but I didn’t. You see, I didn’t really like Montevideo. I thought it was drab — quiet in that way that makes you nervous, and gritty to the point of being Detroit-y. If Buenos Aires is the most European city in South America, then Montevideo is the most Eastern European city in South America. I’m thinking Belgrade.

So because of that I just didn’t have much to say. But then, as I sit here in Tulum and suffer through yet another expensive cut of meat that is improperly cooked, I remember: there’s one thing about Montevideo that I loved. Adored even. It was perfect.

It was the Port Market. We went there for lunch and spent all afternoon.

This is how it went down.

A Little History

I happen to love urban ports. The aforementioned grittiness is part of their charm, and the history generally associated with said ports is fascinating, as port cities were vital to a country’s economy in the days before air travel opened up the world to a new kind of market.

Montevideo’s port is no different, and its current rough-around-the-edges look does little to modernize the Old City area at all. In fact, I could easily imagine the stevedores of yore pulling in, pockets laden with payday cash, in search of alcohol and companionship.

The port market was officially opened in 1868, and its components were manufactured in England and shipped over, then assembled on site. The market did a thriving trade in livestock, produce, and slaves.

Yes, slaves.

Montevideo’s Port Market is a bit different today. Surrounding the building you’ll find vendors selling antiques, leather goods, and art. But inside? Inside is where you’ll find the food.

And you might never want to leave.

It’s All About the Meat

Argentina gets all the love when it comes to meat. Their asado is the stuff of legend. As Buenos Aires is just a few hours away from Montevideo by ferry, it’s not surprising that Montevideo’s Port Market is filled to capacity with asados, the famous barbecues.

Push open the doors and you can smell it. The smoke laced with rich beef fat, the savory scent of sausage, and an undercurrent of wine greet you as you walk in. The sunbeams filter through the dusty skylights and penetrate the layers of smoke, giving the space an otherworldly light that is a photog’s dream. Then there’s the noise. A cacophony even, as half of the city descends here for lunch.

It’s glorious.

Our Airbnb hosts told us which asado stall to visit, and I think we made it to the right one. That was no easy feat. The building is a maze of restaurants, bars, and stalls and it’s easy to get turned around. But, then again, I think you could choose any of these establishments and walk away full and happy.

Two seats were open at the bar so we quickly sat down. The roaring fire directly in front of us took away some of the July chill, and we were handed a menu. I quickly settled on a filet, because I always have the filet, and we added some french fries and a bottle of wine to our order. The waiter whirled away, dodging the man who was tending the sizzling meat, and I glanced around.

This is food heaven.

The couple to my right were tucking into a tightly coiled sausage drenched in sauteed veggies. The man across the bar raised his fork from his tray, and a hefty string of gorgeously fried cheese followed. The grill in front of me was covered in meat, and the chefs kept throwing on the wood, sparks rising each time.

The wine bottled specifically for Palenque.

Our waiter dropped off our wine, a rich and spicy cabernet that had been bottled and labeled specifically for this restaurant by a Uruguayan winery. Our steaks followed, gorgeously charred and bright red on the inside. I sipped and chewed and looked around, certain that I didn’t want to leave.

The expertly cooked steak at Palenque in the Port Market.

And we didn’t. We sat there all afternoon, sipping wine and laughing, talking about all of the things that we talk about when we’re traveling, tipsy, and in love.

We capped off our day with a Jameson and a beer at the small bar near the door. A working man’s bar in this working man’s city, this bar was populated by the same type of men that have been bellying up for decades.

The taxi drivers, the sailors, and the dock workers. The bar’s chipped and frayed linoleum top, stained by countless drinks, was testament to that. We finished our drinks and walked back to our apartment, my previously meh perception of Montevideo colored a bit brighter by an afternoon that will be marked down as one of the best I’ve ever had.

Note: Montevideo’s Port Market is open from noon to six every day except Sunday. Saturday is the most popular day to visit the market for lunch, so be there early.

Disclosure: This post is sponsored by Hipmunk. All content and opinions are my own.

Estoy Cansado

January 10, 2015 by Cate Brubaker

As we packed up our bags for this trip to Nicaragua I found myself going through my usual motions, at the very last minute. I snatched from their bin what I hoped were enough pairs of panties, I randomly pulled dresses from their hangers and didn’t bother to fold them carefully. I grabbed the baggie of jewelry that I had neglected to unpack and sort from our last trip to Mexico. I put my haphazardly stuffed backpack by the front door and sat down to wait. I posted an obligatory Instagram photo to convey a level of excitement that I absolutely did not feel.

It all felt like a chore.

Not even a year ago these same tasks would have been done well in advance, with a kind of reverence and care that I typically reserved for only the most important of preparations. I’d have done all of the research and ticked all of the boxes and made all of the plans. Or I wouldn’t have done any of those things but I still would have rejoiced in a freewheeling adventure in a new place. This time, however, there were none of those feelings.

When we touched down in Managua and met the smiling man who held a sign with my name on it I felt very little, save a bit of gratitude that the Nicaraguan customs and immigration process was so quick and easy. We piled into the shiny new car, our backpacks stowed in the trunk and our driver bobbed his head to what was obviously a carefully put together CD of album oriented light rock designed for the tourists that he ferries around the country’s most popular sights.

Freddy Fender never sounded so strange.

“Cuánto tiempo a San Juan del Sur?” I asked.

“Dos horas, mas o menos,” was his reply.

I sat in the back seat and gazed at the landscape that was Managua, the country’s capital and most populated area. Will commented that he didn’t see how a project like the proposed canal could take place in a country so obviously lacking in services and infrastructure. I agreed with a throaty noise and resumed looking out the window, my brain only rousing when I saw a horse tethered on the side of the highway.

We arrived in San Juan del Sur in the promised two hours and checked into our hotel. A short nap later we walked onto the beach in this area heralded by many as one of the best surf destinations in the world and home to otherworldly sunsets. We made our way to the nearest bar, which is something of an unspoken rule upon our arrival in a new destination. We pushed our way onto barstools and I surveyed the throngs of people clinging to the previous night’s New Years Eve celebrations.

There were young backpackers, the women clad in booty shorts and sunburns and the men dressed in T shirts advertising the beers of the most exotic locations they’ve visited to date. Singha is always the most prevalent. There were the expats, loudly moaning about the hordes of people that have inundated what was once their own personal paradise and the middle aged American tourists shouting at the televisions broadcasting the Rose Bowl and vomiting Flor de Cana over the railing onto the sand below.

I sat there in the relentless wind that would lash at this town for the duration of our stay and I realized something. Something that I had been loath to admit to admit to myself for some time.

I am tired.

We have maintained this lifestyle for almost five years. We’ve worked our way around the world, living in destinations that have either pleased me to no end or provided frustration in those same amounts. We’ve delighted in exotic and friendly Taiwan, relaxed in sleepy Huanchaco, Peru, dealt with the awkwardness and debauchery that came from residing in the United Arab Emirates, and slipped relatively seamlessly into an expat community in one of the most beautiful parts of Panama. From these bases we’ve traveled all over Europe, Asia, and South America.

But I’m still tired.

I’m tired of beaches. I’m tired of cities. I’m tired of wrapping my tongue around foreign words that feel like a fatty piece of beef that I just can’t spit out. I’m tired of people who see me as a walking ATM. I’m tired of the guilt that comes with the knowledge that, due to the land in which I was born, I am granted unfettered access to most of the world.

I’m tired of making friends knowing that I’ll just be leaving them. I’m tired of buying things armed with the knowledge that I’ll just have to give most of them away. I’m tired of not buying things because I know that I have no way to carry them to the next destination. I’m tired of living a picture perfect Instagram life when the real pictures would garner me no likes.

I’m just so fucking tired.

I know that this might come across as petulant to some. I know that people would tell me to be grateful for what I have, much like a parent might admonish their child to eat all of their meatloaf because other children are hungry. I know all of these things but in that deep, visceral part of me that is quietly closing the doors on my wonder and awe I also know that I have to do something differently.

I am friends with travelers. In fact, most of my friends are travelers. None of us are immune to burnout and I read blog posts almost all of the time that make reference to that fact. This is a difficult life in many, many ways and I think that it’s perfectly natural to feel weary after months or years of doing something this hard.

I just honestly never expected it to happen to me.

So now I’m here. I’m here in a charming apartment in the even more charming city of Granada, perched on the shore of Lake Nicaragua. In two days I’ll be packing my bag yet again for a jaunt out to the pristine paradise of Little Corn Island. I’m here and I’m tired.

So what happens now?

In almost one month we will pack our things again, say goodbye to friends again, and lug everything we own on an international move. Again. This time it’s to Mexico and to a dream that I’ve worked hard to make a reality. Do I want to go? Yes, I do. Am I excited about it? Yes, I am.

Am I still tired?

Absolutely.