Home: The Death of a Nomad

Posted: 10/29/2013 | October 29th, 2013

When I decided to move to New York City, I had this vision of what would happen: I would settle down into my own amazing apartment, decorate it with lots of cool stuff, join a gym, take cooking classes, and — in between all that — take numerous trips to JFK airport and jet-set around the world. I’d come back, stay for a few weeks, and do it all over again.

I’d be able to balance my twin desires: settling down and my love of travel.

But I was naïve.

Since moving here in January, I never managed to spend more than a couple weeks in New York City before having to leave again. When I moved into my own apartment in July, I left the next day. I came back for a week before leaving again for two months.

I never got to settle down.

I never took those cooking classes.

I never joined that gym.

My apartment is still bare, with curtainless windows, books longing for a bookcase, and walls lacking art and paintings.

The famed — and much desired — end to my travels never really materialized, as I’ve spent much of the last year on the road.

“I thought you were slowing down,” people would say to me.

“I’m trying. I’m trying,” I’d reply.

No matter how hard I tried, slowing down never seemed to happen. There were, though, many false starts.

But last month while in Europe, I began to feel really homesick. I was tired of traveling and just wanted to be home in my comfy bed.

I realized I was tired of delaying my roots.

Roots, after all, can only take hold if they’re in the ground. I’ve been trying to develop habits and routines without giving my roots time to grow. I keep uprooting them and then trying to replant them in hopes they’ll grow.

But it doesn’t work that way.

You need to till the earth, plant the seed, and let the roots take hold.

You can’t uproot them.

It’s time I give my roots a chance.

I’m tired of saying “OK, I’ll do it next time.” So I’m not traveling until the end of December when I go to the Philippines. There’s a lot to do in NYC, and it’s finally time to do it.

I’ve purposely filled my schedule with things that will keep me in the city. This week I joined a gym, got a trainer, and paid for a desk at a co-working space. I’m having friends visit.

I’m here. I’m home.

It’s time to grow some roots.

Nothing will stop me now.

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Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight
Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines. Start with Momondo.

Book Your Accommodation
You can book your hostel with Hostelworld. If you want to stay elsewhere, use Booking.com as they consistently return the cheapest rates. (Here’s the proof.)

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance
Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. I never ever go on a trip without it. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. You should too.

Need Some Gear?
Check out our resource page for the best companies to use!

Patagonia: Thoughts on Getting Offline and Trying to Camp

I came to Patagonia to tune out, clear my mind, hike, and learn to camp. I hate camping, though, and can count on one hand the number of nights I’ve spent in a tent. As an insomniac, I much prefer beds, hot water, and flush toilets. Even as a kid, when my friends and I went camping, I never enjoyed the experience — I only went to be with my friends. But I signed up for the Intrepid Patagonia tour (with fellow blogger Hey Nadine, no less!) as a way to ease myself into the experience again.

After a night in Santiago, my tour group flew down to Patagonia, where we geared up for the famous “W Trek” in Torres del Paine National Park. The park, founded in 1959, is home to tons of glaciers, glacial lakes, deep valleys, famous granite mountains, and beautiful pine forests. More than 100,000 people visit each year, making it one of the top destinations in South America. The W Trek is so named because it follows the natural formations of three valleys, thereby forming a W shape. It’s the most popular circuit in the park, as it hits all the major sights: Glacier Grey, the French Valley, and the picture-perfect Torres Towers.

As we approached the park on the first day, giant gray mountains rose high above us and a cloudless blue sky stretched to infinity. Everyone on the bus gave a collective gasp. While our guides stopped to get our camping and hiking permits, we piled out for photographs. The crisp air, grass waving in the wind, and sheer mountainsides made me excited to get connected to nature again.

The paved road then became dirt, and the bus — lacking any shocks — jostled us like a carnival ride. After a choppy ferry ride, we arrived at Paine Grande camp, our home for the first two nights of four days of hiking. Instead of doing the W in a continuous line, we would hike two portions from this camp, doubling back each night to rest our bones.

We dropped our bags and set off on the first trek, to Glaciar Grey, so named for its gray hue produced from light being reflected by the soil and the dirt it smashes and carries as it proceeds down the mountains and into the lakes. Behind us was Lake Pehoe with its deep, crystal blue water. The wind picked up and we came to a lookout point high above Lago Grey. Battling gusts that kept pushing us off balance, we took photos of the glacier before scrambling down from the lookout. After a quick snack among the rocks, we stepped back on the path, and the wind died down as we descended into the pine forest.

My last experience setting up a tent, on a trip to Africa, didn’t go well: I couldn’t get my tent poles to arch and often seemed to have one left over. Now, I was hoping for some practice when we got back to camp, so I could reduce my tent-pitching time from 30 confused minutes to something more reasonable. Alas, it was not to be. When we returned to Paine Grande hours later, it turned out the camp handlers had set up the tents for us!

After dinner, we retired. I can see why our ancestors of yore were the “early to bed, early to rise” types: when there’s no power or light, there’s not much to do. But as an insomniac, it’s hard for me to sleep in a normal bed, let alone a tent. With the temperature dropping, the wind whipping, and only a thin mattress pad underneath me, it took me hours to fall asleep. When my eyes finally closed, I wondered if I would ever have it in me to fall in love with camping.

The next morning, we woke to a warm and clear day. On our 22 km hike through the French Valley, we ascended through burned forest, across rivers, and along a valley before arriving at Glaciar Francés. There, melting ice came crashing off cliffs like intense thunder. We stood in the glacier’s shadow, eating lunch and waiting to spy the cracking ice.

We would hear the boom and hope to quickly spot the ice and snow cascading down the mountain. We stayed an hour before descending but looked back at the sound of each new crash, hoping to catch just one more glimpse of the glacier’s ice falling.

Back at camp that night, the temperature was colder, the rain came pouring down, and the wind whipped so hard it blew part of our tent down, causing Nadine to scramble out and pound the poles back in with her hiking shoes. I wondered how people got used to this. There would be no sleep for me for a second night in a row.

The next day, the rain continued as we made our way to the ferry taking us to our final camp, Refugio Las Torres. There wasn’t much hiking that day, and as the wind blew and rain came at us sideways, I was glad I had called ahead and booked a dorm bed in the campground’s hostel.

After two nights in a cold, wet tent, I needed a change. Patagonia was beautiful and the relaxing break I needed, but I also needed sleep — and I wasn’t getting any. But in bed that night, it was as if I was sleeping on a cloud. I was warm and comfy, and even the loudest snorer in the world in the next room didn’t ruin my sleep. I realized then that I am a camping wimp and that staying in a tent is not for me. Maybe I should try glamping. As much as I love the outdoors, I also love beds and hot showers!

On the last day, we set out to tackle the park’s most famous hike: the 22km round-trip to the Torres Towers, one of the most difficult I’ve done since the 20km Tongariro Crossing in New Zealand. But these three towers set on a glacial lake are picture perfect, with their granite, ice-covered spires set above an aquamarine lake. I could swear it was a photo used as computer wallpaper.

After my group ascended to the top of the lookout, ate lunch, and started the descent, I opted to stay longer. I wasn’t ready to leave. Two hours later, as the clouds rolled in and the wind picked up, I finally began my descent back to camp, the last to leave the viewpoint. The time I spent there allowed me to clear my head, still my mind for a moment, and enjoy the present — something I hadn’t done in a long time.

As we headed out of the park the following day, I was thankful for the trip. Being offline and in nature was a much-needed mental break, and Patagonia was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to. It’s one of those locations on earth that makes you realize how small you are and just how grand and significant nature is. Camping may not have won me over, but nature always warms my heart and brings me perspective.

Logistics
To get to Torres del Paine, you can take a tour or head down on your own by going from Puerto Natales, Chile, where buses leave regularly and drop you off at the ferry to Paine Grande camp or the camp gate itself.

If you’re visiting solo, check out this blog by Breakaway Backpacker, who did the trek solo last year. He has a lot of information on prices, booking, and what gear you’ll need. (Since I was on a tour, that was provided for me.)

The park is easy to explore, but as someone with little camping experience, I was glad to have a guide who knew the trails, gave us a history of the park, and added information and facts about the flora and fauna. You don’t get that when you’re alone! If you’re like me and not big into camping, I suggest a tour!

Note: I went on this trip in Chile as part of my ongoing partnership with Intrepid Travel. They covered the cost of this tour and any additional costs during the course of the trip. I received no money for going on this trip.

Ten Years Ago, I said Yes to Travel

Ten years ago, I embarked on the trip that would change my life. It was 2004, and I was trying to convince a friend to visit the Galápagos Islands the following January. He wasn’t sold on the idea and suggested Thailand instead. Since I didn’t care where we went so long as we went somewhere, I agreed. I just wanted to escape the winter.

So in January 2005, we set off on our two-week trip.

If you had told before me that trip that I was going to come home, quit my job, and travel the world, I would have thought you were crazy. I was finishing an MBA and looking for a job in renewable energy. Travel was awesome, but me? A world traveler? Never.

Yet here I am 10 years later as exactly that.

Anniversaries have a strange way of making you nostalgic and reflective, and, as this one approached, I couldn’t help but reflect on that trip.

There is a lot I remember from it: getting scammed by a tuk tuk driver, trying street food for the first time, and staying in my first cheap guesthouse. I can recall in vivid detail how Bangkok’s Khao San Road was lined with missing person posters and donation jars related to the Boxing Day tsunami (it had happened two weeks prior to our arrival). The sense of pain in the air was so palpable.

And I remember the conversation with five backpackers in Chiang Mai that led to me turning to my friend a few days later and saying “I’m going to quit my job to travel the world.” I remember walking into Ko Samui’s English-language bookstore to buy Lonely Planet’s Southeast Asia on a Shoestring right after, pouring over it and taking notes even before I knew what I was doing.

But the one thing I can’t remember: the why.

Time has caused the reason I decided to quit my job to fade from memory. If you ask me now, I’ll say it had to do with being jealous of those backpackers, a sense of restlessness, and an overwhelming desire to travel. But, truthfully, I don’t know exactly. Most of the decisions I make in my life — good or bad — are done on impulse and without thinking.

All I remember was the feeling that I had to do it. Something just snapped.

And I just did.

But, 10 years later, the why is no longer important to me.

When I quit my job, I thought it was going to be temporary, but what I didn’t know then — and what I learned later — was that the travel bug only gets worse, and the more traveling I did, the less likely it was I’d go back to my former life.

It’s not easy to take the leap, quit your job, and travel the world — even for just a few months. There’s a lot of unknowns about a trip and no matter how much of a desire we have, it’s often hard to get past that fear. I had no idea how I was going to afford my trip, if I’d be able to do it, or what to expect.

But I refused to turn back.

I’ve never met someone who regretted their decision to travel. Everyone is appreciative of what travel has taught them, even those who came home early after realizing what they learned was that they didn’t like travel.

While I may never remember my train of thought on that day, I never second-guess my choice. If there’s any lesson I draw from that day 10 years ago, it’s that you never regret doing what makes you happy. Sometimes our gut instinct is right.

There have been mistakes along the way. There always will be. Nothing works out perfectly. But regret nothing.

Whenever I think “Should I do this?” I remember my decision to travel and realize nothing is ever lost by trying. If you fail, you not only end up back where you started — but with the knowledge you tried.

In 2015, don’t worry what others say. Travel more. Start a garden. Quit your job to become an actor. Finally take those Spanish lessons you’ve wanted.

Or don’t.

Go with your gut. Take a leap and do what makes you happy.

We each have a finite time on Earth. There’s no sense in wasting it.

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On Tuesday, I released the new edition of my book How to Travel the World on $50 a Day, with over 100 new pages of content featuring tips and advice I’ve never discussed anywhere on this blog. As a special accompaniment to the release, I’m giving away up to $1,800 in free travel books, flights, accommodation, language courses, guides, shirts, and more!!! I’m super pumped about this book’s release and excited to be able to give away so many cool products with it. You can click here to find out more about the book and get your free extras!

Reflections on 5 Months of Travel: Time to Hang Up the Backpack

Last year, after my friend Scott passed away, I decided it was time to stop trying to plan a big multi-month trip and actually do it. His death made me realize that our time is short and you shouldn’t put off something in hopes that “the perfect time will come.” There’s no perfect time to just go — but there I was, waiting for one. I had fallen for the thing that I so often argue people not to do.

For the last couple of years, most of my travel has been in short, very frenetic bursts – a far cry from the slow travel I undertook when I started on the road. Between conferences, life obligations, and trying to having a home base, I kept cutting my trips shorter than I wanted.

Sure, I was on the road, but it wasn’t those endless, carefree travel days of yore. Trying to juggle so many things in my life made it hard to just pick up and take off.

Scott’s death made me rethink my position, and so last November, I packed my bag and hit the road again. I wanted adventure, freedom, and to remember what it was like to have no time limit on your travels — to just go with the flow all over again.

Five months later, I came home.

Change is often gradual and insidious. You often don’t realize how much a trip has affected you until months later. You don’t realize that time spent hiking through the Amazon changed you until it is too late.

But I knew right away how this trip changed me: it taught me that I don’t want to travel for so long for the foreseeable future. I’m over it.

I love travel, but after ten years on the road, I discovered that spending five months away isn’t enjoyable for me. It’s too long to be away when I’m in a period of my life where I want to slow down and create a life in just one place.

I loved the first two months — they were fun, exciting, and everything I thought they would be — but, as time went on, this trip confirmed what I began to believe after my book tour: two months of constant travel is my new limit. After that, I get burnt out.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I like being home. I’ve been going back and forth with the idea of having a home for years, but this last trip helped me realize I really do like staying in one place, going to the gym, cooking, going to bed at 10, reading books, and all those other homebody-like routines.

And my friends and I are going to open more hostels this year, which will consume a lot of my time and require me to be stateside! (NYC and Portland, I’m coming for you!)

I’m shocked at myself for changing. Who would have thought there would be a domesticated Matt? Not I!

I have many domestic trips lined up but my passport won’t be used until July when I go to Sweden. I’ll fly again to warmer climates in the winter but I’m excited not to have any other travel plans on my calendar.

I need a break. I’m slightly sick of being on the road. The anxiety and panic attacks my last trip caused while trying to juggle everything made me realize I am no superman. Working while traveling has taught me I never want to do that again. Those Argentinians in San Rafael shook me to the core when they said, “Why are you working so much? Did you come to travel or to work?”

They were right. I came to travel. I don’t want to work and travel anymore and the only way to do that is shift how I travel.

The most enjoyable parts of my last trip were when I was simply a traveler. When the computer was shut, when I was offline and could fully immerse myself in my destination, I was my happiest. I felt like I was immersed in a destination and focused.

I’m going back to that kind of travel.

While I might have outgrown long-term travel, I certainly did not outgrow backpacking. Being with those guys in San Rafael, staying in hostels in Australia, and hanging out with travelers in Southeast Asia made me realize I want to do more of that — and just that.

My computer is not coming with me anymore.

They say trips take you, you don’t take them, and I’ve never walked away from a trip without some new insight. This trip showed me that if I’m going to enjoy my travels, I need to change how I approach them — by planning shorter trips and leaving my work at home.

When something becomes a chore, you lose your passion for it, and the last thing I want to do is lose my love of travel… even for a second.

And, though I’m taking a break and enjoying this rest stop, I still see the road and I know, sooner or later, I will answer its siren song, sling on my backpack, and be on the move again.