Seven months after retiring things aren’t what I expected

Only in America

Having just spent a month back in the USA visiting family and friends in California and Washington State, we’ve been asked very thoughtful questions. It lets me know that the people who know and love us really care about how we’re doing but also that they are trying to imagine themselves in our shoes. There are some predictable things about our new lifestyle that people can surmise without much thought. They inherently know that it’s great to no longer be on a time schedule, at least not one imposed upon us. And I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to guess that seeing the world, eating the food, and meeting new strangers every day is pretty amazing. Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is.

The more thought-provoking questions that are being asked of us, those that require a few moments to consider, are the ones whose answers even surprise me as they come out of my mouth. Last night at a dinner party in Bremerton, WA, a friend asked me what is the “one thing” I have learned about myself in the past seven months. While in California a week ago somebody else asked me what has surprised me the most since we started traveling. Interestingly, we have been asked multiple times, even today, if we’re having to answer questions regarding our current government, rather I should say if we are having to answer for it. So, I am going to try and answer all of these questions here.

Every country has horses and asses

I’ll start with the last part first. Our experience traveling in Mexico, Ireland, France, and Taiwan has been very consistent in this regard. While the world doesn’t often like America, and they certainly have their reasons, they do like Americans. Most of us, anyway. They don’t look at us as proxies for an entire government and lash out or otherwise hold us accountable for the unintelligible behaviors of our dear leaders. Besides they have their own versions of our politicians to deal with, so believe it or not, there is some empathy. I think ours are just louder.

What people really appreciate are travelers who respect their culture, or better yet, demonstrate some real passion for it. They enjoy seeing themselves through our eyes. Numerous times I witnessed a rekindling of respect for or even a new love for their own country after hearing me blather on about how much I admire this or that aspect of life there. It works both ways, though. I might indicate how incredible I think it is that I can walk everywhere, never needing a car, or how incredibly convenient life is where everything one can want is always just around the corner. Or what of the cafés, the people watching, the fashion? Or I may say how much I wish their train system was implemented back in the USA. They will counter with how much they love the open spaces in America or how they love being able to get in a car and just drive for hours to see deserts, plains, canyons, rivers, or old growth trees that they don’t have back home. They love that there are no people in these places. Or if they do want people, they love how blunt New Yorkers are with them. I have lost count of how many NY Yankee hats I have seen across the globe. They will remind me that while I think having 250 kinds of cheese is a miracle, they can’t get over how many types of chips, yogurts, BBQ sauces, or kinds of tampons there are in America. I think their tiny cars with 75 mpg should be mandatory. They want to run over one of those cars with one of our lifted F-150s. L'herbe est toujours plus verte, no?

My answers to the questions about what has surprised me the most and what is the one thing I have learned are interrelated, actually. Before we left back in September 2024, we had just finished three years of preparing for this journey. Much of that preparation consisted of watching a lot of YouTubers who travel fulltime and learning so much from them about how to travel efficiently, cost effectively, and the differences and benefits between slow and fast travel. We followed in their footsteps. I made maps showing our projected routes out to 2028. And the spreadsheets. So many spreadsheets modeling our finances on various scenarios. None of which I predicted correctly, of course. (We’re fine.) But what I didn’t consider was that we would get tired by travel much more quickly than we would have ever expected. Notice I say by and not of.

Those YouTubers never indicated that they were getting burned out by the process of moving constantly, but now that I look back, I should have just keyed on how rough they often looked over time. I can feel it now and I recognize that same emptiness in their eyes looking back at me in the mirror. What I took as a sort of confidence and indifference to the stresses that the rest of us feel was actually a form of entrapment. They were making a living from their videos so they couldn’t just whine or complain about being exhausted by their privileged life if they wanted people to ring the bell and subscribe, could they? This is the thing that surprised me the most: After seven months of non-stop travel, I am tired.

Thus, the one thing I learned about myself is that I need a home. I understand that for a lot of people this isn’t very revelatory, but if you know me at all, and you know how many times I have moved in my life (well over 50), it isn’t hard to make the jump to “He is a rolling stone and doesn’t need any sort of permanency.” Turns out, I do. Consider, for example, that I worked for Deloitte for 24 years and Chien-hui and have been married for 23 years.

If you read this blog regularly, then you’ve read about my issues with uncomfortable chairs and beds. With wearing out shoes quickly. With stairs. (Think of Newman and then Jerry saying, “Stairs!”) These things become a counterweight to seeing amazing architecture and artwork, eating and drinking food that is at once delicious and healthy, and walking many miles each month. We joke that nobody else in the world is actually ever comfortable based on the quality of the furniture we have put our bodies on in the past seven months. Sleeping back at our friends this week on a real bed and having homemade food and good coffee at their breakfast table each morning feels like some kind of bestowed gift. Even the king-sized airbed we slept on at my aunt and uncle’s last week was downright luxurious when compared to the Airbnb’s we’ve been in. We have been very well-taken-care-of back in our homes away from home this month.

Home away from home in San Jose, CA

One thing that has stuck with me about me is that my father says I am different now. He says I speak slower, and I am not so obviously stressed. This is all true. It is very apparent to me now that we are back here in the States how much people here are in the pressure cooker. I can see and feel the intensity that I no longer experience in my daily life. Being exhausted by travel is not the same as being exhausted by daily American life. I know mine is a first world problem, yet here I am.

In a week, we’ll have our own apartment again. I can’t convey to you how much I am looking forward to this. We put our few remaining belongings onto a truck a couple of days ago and they are now on their journey across oceans and seas. When they arrive in a month or so and I am able to put away all of my kitchen gear, and set up my huge cutting board, made for me years ago by my mom’s husband out of an old solid-oak door, I will be whole again. When I place wine upon the cherry wood rack, he also made for me, shelve my stacks of cookbooks, art and photography books, and finally hang the art I have collected and love, I will be, somehow, more myself. I do not buy this idea that we are not our things. We absolutely are and they make us whole as long as those things have meaning and ground us.

Move day, our stuff is no longer in storage

We are very organized

What I’ve learned is that, like almost everyone it seems, I need a sanctuary. That place where I am comfortable. It’s such an important word, comfortable. If you’re not, you’re eventually and ultimately miserable. You can be retired early, fully invested into traveling the world and fearlessly doing things that others might only wish they could, but still not be comfortable. This impedes joy. Isn’t that surprising? It’s definitely “one thing” I couldn’t have predicted.

Everyone needs their little patch of green

It isn’t lost on me that this blog has become what my aunt called a “mind dump” instead of what it started out to be, which was a travel blog. This past month back in the USA is technically still travel, but certainly not the same as giving impressions of foreign destinations that people would like to travel to themselves. Moving permanently to Nice, France, will still provide plenty of fodder for writing about the differences between living there and here. And we intend to use Nice not only as a sanctuary, but as a base of travel, as well. The list of places we can get to within an hour and half by plane or train is impressive. Imagine waking up on a Thursday, not that I ever know what day it is anymore, and spinning the imaginary wheel while I ask Chien-hui, “Honey, where do you feel like going this weekend?” Barcelona, Madrid, London, Geneva, Vienna, Milan, Rome…Corsica……Istanbul………Frankfurt……………Paris.

Paris? Again? At least now we can go home afterwards and get some rest.