On Entering and Exiting Countries
The keyword of Remote Year is ‘remote’ – meaning you’re far away from the normalcy you used to know. No assigned desks, no certain set of hours as you sail through timezones, no structure that constrains you to anything than what you choose to subscribe to.
Almost three months in – with one week left in Europe – what surprises me the most about ‘remote’ living is another keyword – ‘living.’ And how quickly you can adapt to a city, to a routine, to scattered sentence fragments of languages, of familiar faces at cafes and street corners and views so beautifully consistent, you get used to them. In fact, you need very little from the so-called normalcy you used to know to find your rhythm in another country. A blog I once read about Remote Year described how as soon as you don’t have to use Google Maps to get everywhere, it’s time to pack up and leave.
They were right.
But it’s also one of my favorite aspects of this experience.
Like today, when I woke up late to the sound of cathedral bells that used to keep me up at night, and now I find comforting. I opened the giant windows above my bed, that though I’m in Portugal, I always feel the urge to sing ‘Bonjour, good day!’ as the sunshine pours through. I waved to the new dad across the street, out on his balcony, rocking his crying newborn baby, I’m assuming, so the mom could sleep in on a Saturday. I checked email and felt inspired to write, inviting the breeze from outside to scatter through. I visited a fellow remote who has quickly become a best friend, and FaceTimed a best friend of 7 years. I went to the gym. I stopped by my corner grocery store. And picked up a cold brew from the cafe whose shop owner doesn’t charge me extra for almond milk. And now, I’m relaxing, ready for a dinner with a view and drinks with locals.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was in New York again, having a typical weekend. And this time next week? I’ll almost be to Tokyo.
Just when I start to love a land, it’s time to expand my horizons, out of that comfort zone, right back into the unknown that attracted me to Remote Year in the first place. It’s a lot like having a fling with a man you think you could fall for, only to have it end, leaving you lingering on the tongue and the scent of ‘maybe one day.’
I don’t know where the year will take me, but what it’s teaching me is how very little I need. How no matter where I am, I can always figure out my own path, my own way, my own happiness. And how much being remote allows me to open my heart, my mind and my perspective more than I ever could have if I stayed stateside. But no matter where I am? I’m still me.
If only remotely – and totally – growing with each new passport stamp I add to my collection.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.