Thank you, jerks: Tim Ferriss, Rolf Potts, Cody McKibben, et al!
Thank you for making my (present) life a seemingly endless test of my already crapola patience.
The anticipation is killing me.
You inspired me to go abroad and live there for a while.
So I listened to you and did just that.
Now all I can think about (I even dream about it – no joke) is:
Beaches
Favorable exchange rates
Gorgeous, amazing vagabonditas from all parts of the globe
Language learning
Surfing
Power outages in the middle of flash floods
New friends
Cheap booze/drugs
Rent for USD 210 a month
Fresh food from the market every morning, etc., etc., etc.
Pobrecito Yo.
*****
Right before I hopped on the Nica's motorcycle I thought: This is why Fight Club is one of the best movies EVAR.
Earlier that morning, I was seeking shelter from the sadistic sun and ready for another freshly-caught, freshly-grilled fish taco with a Victoria.
(Thanks to @gorski for the shot.) – 20 Cord a beer!
While I was waiting (the fish taco dude took his sweet time, beach style I suppose), I struck up a convo with this ripped, imperturbable type; a survivalist – a man unflappably on his own path.
He was living half way between town and the beach in a beautiful house and paying peanuts in USD terms for it.
He mentioned that he had a room for rent and I said I was in the market.
That night I set out to meet this Ryan fellow (www.urfree2bu.com), surfer, athlete, ex-engineer of Tesla fame and all around badass.
I later learned that Ryan was planning an adventure expedition through the Darien Gap.
Truly gonad enlarging. Check out his site for photos of the trek.
It was late and dark and I was walking shirtless, as is my wont, with flip flops, all alone.
(Tallest dude in the country?)
By now I was miles from the city and the road had become nothing more than an oft-trodden stretch of dirt, canopied by ancient mango trees that towered above you, offering a fresh, juicy snack for a thirsty, peckish passerby.
As civilization rescinded at my hind, I was starting to feel a bit tense.
I'm a 6′ 2” gringo in Nicaragua walking solo and utterly lost.
The few people that walked or drove by on motorcycle gave me strange, leering looks.
They were forbidding looks, a mixture of warning and cold indifference.
A truck with 4 or so people drove past and stopped.
I kept walking. Any twitch, alteration in pace or out of place gesture would be all the indication they need of easy prey.
They made as if to turn around and I ducked behind a couple of trees.
Silently I waited there, practicing opening the Smith & Wesson Special Forces knife in my boardshorts pocket.
. . . .
Then I heard the motor dopplering back towards the city.
I DO have a tough guy walk, after all. Maybe they thought I was too much trouble to fuck with.
Is it sick that I was a bit disappointed?
But only a very little bit.
Life is cheap here.
I kept walking hoping to spot some landmark indicating the house I'd only seen driving past.
This isn't the US. There aren't any street lights and it's straight up, pitch-black dark.
Two younger guys joined me from a branching road and I immediately struck up a conversation in Spanish.
They tell me I'm out of my fucking mind to be walking on this road at night, by myself.
Why just last week a tourist got beat half to death and mugged on this exact road in about this same spot – where the road narrows between two tall dirt walls, a great place for an ambush.
The ladrones (thieves) don't just assault turistas, they rob and attack locals just the same.
These guys were looking at me a little hungrily but perhaps my Spanish saved me from any trouble and they went on their way.
I'm sure it didn't hurt that I was the most ripped I'd ever been in my life.
Not that a gun or knife would give a damn about that.
I've never seen a particularly muscular Nica. They just don't get all crazy with whey protein and gyms (what gyms?) and shit in rural Nicaragua.
They're just normal, skinny, sinewy folk.
Now I'd been walking for over an hour and the house was nowhere to be found.
I was trying to keep my emotions under control.
I asked an old man for some directions and he echoed the sentiments of the young men: I'm loco.
He hurried me up the little hill to his house solicitously and introduced me to his family of 5, chilling on the porch talking.
I worked out a deal with the younger son that I'd pay him 100 Córdoba (~USD 5) for a ride back to town on his moto.
Deal.
I returned to the hostel Casa El Oro, paid my oblivious savior, thanked him, and went in.
I thought that maybe I'd blown things out of proportion in an attempt to feel extra cool, but no.
Just about everybody told me that I'd been lucky to come back without so much as a scratch.
From the moment I smelled danger till the moment I got back to town, my whole body and being was mobilized for action.
My blood was pumping, heart racing, erroneous thoughts out of sight.
I was present to the experience.
I was alive.
THAT'S the message of Fight Club.
Be present to your experience; the experience of your body.
Seek it out. Don't barter it for cars, flat screen TVs and knick-knacks.
Do what you want. You only get one life.
I warn you all in hushed tones that once you become a Vagabond
You just can't go back to a mundane existence of working like a sarariman.
Leveraging the power of a strong currency, you can live like a king or queen in beautiful countries like Thailand, The Philippines, Cambodia, Nicaragua, Costa Rica and others for a fraction of your current stateside rate.
****
With my online business poised for launch next month and this blog about to get a major sexy ass makeover very soon (including monetization), I'm expecting to usher in Spring of 2011 (well, spring in the US, anyway) at a Full Moon Party in Thailand or from a beach in Cebu, Philipines or whatever locale I happen to choose to officially mark the beginning of my life as a digital nomad and full time world traveler, also known as a serial vagabond.
There are countless ways to make passive income online and reduce your work day (or week) to just a few hours behind a laptop.
It takes planning, a willingness to learn some new things and a dream (that's what'll keep you going during the wild rollercoaster of muse creation and lifestyle design).
(Thanks to @prayitno for the amazing photo!)
Here are some resources to get you started:
Tim Ferriss of 4 Hour Work Week Fame's Blog. This guy is truly something and an inspiration to me and many others. If it weren't for Tim, I wouldn't be writing this. His blog is the definitive resource for many of my interests such as skill acquisition, vagabonding, lifestyle design, languages and more.
Cody McKibben is a young example of lifestyle design at its best; he flew to Bangkok and has been living in Thailand for over a year now with his girlfriend while running his business with naught else but an iphone and his macbook. His website offers genuine value and all the articles are both motivating and informative.
Rolf Potts wrote the book on Vagabonding . . . literally. His travel writing is engrossing, inspiring and poignant. His book Vagabonding: An Uncommon Guide To The Art of Long Term World Travel is a lightly philosophical, totally human manifesto on living nowhere and everywhere.
Happy Travels!
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