So, Here It Goes

As someone who writes for a living, putting into words what the first few days of Remote Year has been like… feels impossible. I wouldn’t call it writer’s block – I’m definitely churning through deadlines, thanks to the intensity of Croatian coffee – but rather, describing the start of this adventure in mere black-and-white text, doesn’t seem to do it justice.

In short, it’s been overwhelming. It’s been busy. It’s been (stupid) hot. It’s been exciting. It’s been scary. It’s been one change after another. It’s been one lesson after another. It’s been a whirlwind.

And it’s been surprising.

It’s surprised me that while the process of getting here – the paperwork, the flights, the vaccinations, the finances, the taxes, the see-you-laters – was stressful and sad, actually settling into Split, Croatia? And making new friends? It’s felt effortless… and almost as if these 57 other people and I are connected by some cosmic force to be here, right now, at this time, in this life. Our stories and our backgrounds vary widely, but the common thread of feeling dissatisfied and disenchanted with our tired routine brings us together. We all want something, but don’t know what that ‘something’ is.

And yet? We’re all brave enough to take a chance – together – to discover our own ‘somethings’ and our shared ones.

The first three days were a blur of names and emotions, Karlovačkos [Croatian beer] and different interpretations of ‘Hvala,’ [Croatian for thank you] but last night, something clicked.

After a day of working and an (intimidating) Croatian language class, a handful of us – from England, from Ireland, from New York, from Salt Lake City and beyond – took a dip in the Adriatic Sea. Thanks to the high salt volume, swimming and floating were much easier than the oceans I’ve splashed in back home, and we easily made it to the end of the swimming area, happily bobbing above water. We watched the oversized, honeymoon-orange sun make its descent past the historic buildings of Old Town Split and the bay, joking about sharks and taking in the view. As the golden blanket swept over the waves, we made our way to shore, sharing towels to dry off (since none of us made room in our suitcases for one) and headed to the local grocery store, Tommy’s, to figure out a meal for dinner. Using Google translate’s photo app, we deciphered turkey from chicken, pork from beef, and with broken Croatian, managed to locate olive oil, hidden behind the bakery counter.

We chopped and sliced, boiled and grilled up a pasta meal, complete with another query to Google on how to use a Croatian oven. It only took six people – and one search toolbar to turn up the heat and toast garlic bread. As we made our way through five bottles of wine, leaving our phones on their own and enjoying face-to-face company instead, we talked about our journey to Remote Year.

What made us decide to take this life-changing opportunity? What did we go through that inspired us to step off the ledge into the unknown? What prompted us to sign up to live with, travel with and work next to strangers, from every corner of the Earth? As much as we’re different, our motivations aligned – and the friendly camaraderie that circulated through the single air-conditioned room could be felt instantly. It was so strong, it tingled. I knew I would walk into a room of people I’d never met, but I didn’t realize how fast we would feel the ‘we’re in this together’ connection.

I took a backseat to the cooking (trying to let my type-A Virgo rest for a bit) as I watched everyone make dinner, trying my damndest to take it all in.. Another remote has a tattoo of a ‘pause’ symbol and I’m inspired by it’s meaning: how often do we really stop, breathe and indulge in the moment? Instead of trying to fast-forward or rewind, why don’t we relish in the here-and-now? It’s only four days in and it already feels like it’s happening so quickly.

That’s why I’m trying to savor those visions and these experiences, where I’m astounded by the beauty and the magic of humankind. Where I’m amazed at how quickly I let go of the makeup and the curled hair, releasing the natural me for literally, the world to see. When I’m impressed about how little work was required to make friends in a country thousands of miles away from my previous home. When my heart swells, thinking about how lucky I am to spend an evening talking deeply and laughing loudly, savoring the pure freedom that comes with doing the simplest – and yet, hardest – task of all:

Living.