Lost in Ensenada picture
17D09 — Lost in Ensenada

The Nomad diaries.

My first encounter with a Nomad was during my stay in Prague, as Santiago, I had just met my Fulcanelli.

There was a time in my life when I may have felt homesick. But for now, Home was but a vague concept that existed out there, forever fleeting.

An office is no place a multi-disciplinarist, and japan was where I last fought this loosing battle. My desk, not the medium onto which I would acquire the skills I longed for.

The suffocating curiousity of wanting to know how different my life might be, had gotten worse than the daily frictions of my current situation. The decision of living aboard a float home was not picked amongst other equally enticing ideas, for it was, at the time, the only solution that would align with what I wanted in life.

The monthly rent of our beachside Tokyo appartment was of about 1.5K$, and transitioning from it, to a sailboat, implicated some serious downsizing. The way we looked at it was that, within 3 years, our 20K$ sailboat would be paid at the rate of 600$ per month — Or that by cutting the costs of our current living situation in half, we could be both "home owners" and keep our traveling options open.

Will you trade the proximity to friends and family in exchange for your independence?

To think that, at the time, the most heart-breaking things to let go of were instruments, old consoles, books and some camera equipment — When the truly hard things to let go of would be the habitual bath, tap water and reliable internet connection.

Everything costs more than expected, takes longer than expected and Amazon doesn't deliver to your desert island. Surely you did not do all this travel for the travel alone, you had passions, habits and goals when you left.

The wind rocks the habitat sideways, keeping you up at night. But at least, you get to spend your day writing. You forget about tap water, don't mind the warm water from the plastic jugs, you wonder why people take showers every day, and time away from social networks really does make you feel better.

Being nomad is trading the things you think you care about, for things you didn't know existed.

Suddenly, it's business as usual. You get back to building things, only now, when you look outside, the upmost gorgeous sunset precedes the darkest of night.

You learnt how to fix sails, repair a toilet, create electronic systems, maintain an engine — Even to live without a fridge and power.

We have seen every sunset and almost every sunrise, we have sailed with dolphins, we have climbed mountains on desert islands, and we have met the most amazing people.

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