It feels like world changed in a heart beat.
And yet it feels exactly the same.
Except for the moments when it doest.
So fun fact, last June I sold everything I own…car, clothes, apartment, furniture. Everything. And set off on an Adventure with a 70 L backpack and my little dog @brisket_the_traveling_aussie .
The game plan: work online, move to a new city every 3-6 months, experience new places.
Eight months into this little adventure, the world flipped upside down.
Our bustling little town of Santa Teresa Costa Rica quickly and thankfully turned into a ghost town.
Tourists gone. The beaches are shut down and lines with police tape. Stores closed down. Hotels and hostels shut their doors.
Quiet.
Thankfully we have zero cases with in 2 hours driving distance from us. Grateful because our nearest hospital is a 5 hour drive or a 20 minute flight away and buses are mostly shut down as are fights. As of now it is a 2 day public transport treck to get to San Jose.
The country is doing its best to stop the spread of Covid-19 here as best they can. Locking it all down before it spreads as the medical system here is small and fragile and can not afford an outbreak.
“Are you going home?” People ask.
In the beginning it didn’t seem too serious. Of course I’m not going home. It’s fine.
Now the question comes less and less from outside as the number of people here thins out and instead it comes from inside. Me asking me. It’s an odd conversation…
Are you going home?
Where is home that I would go back to? Cali? Washington? There is less cases here in CR but the system is fragile. Cali and Washington seem illogical right now. Plus, where fuck would I go? I don’t have a home.
My mind runs 3-4 times a day through the possibilities. I’ve heard rescue flights are offered April 24th to get back to the US, but then what? Stay where? With family? Friends? Rent an apartment somewhere and settle in to weather the storm in the middle of the storm?
I keep coming back to the same conclusion. Breathe. When it all feels vast and foreign. Breathe. Where the reality of being a nomad in the middle of a pandemic whispers in my ear.
Breathe, KK.
You’re ok.
You’ve got this.
Much like a tough workout where my mind goes to encouragement “you’ve got this. 3 more rounds. 2 more rounds. Just keep going. You can do this.”
It’s like every set of 100 burpees. Every marathon training. Ever tough derby practice. All those hard things. Building that endurance. It all led to this.
And so we will stay, Brisket and I. We are going to stay here, in this little town that feels so far away from everywhere and everyone I would expect to be surrounded by in the middle of a global tragedy.
One day, one breathe, one internal conversation at a time.
We got this.
Home is where the dog is.
So I guess, for now, this little jungle town is home.
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Life is a Contact Sport. Win.
KrissyKrash.com
Where is home? A nomad in a pandemic.
A Krash Course in World Travel 