I fall into the latter category.
Once upon a time I had a “real world” job. It involved slogging away for 12+ hours a day in a drab, nondescript office building tucked away in the Pacific Northwest. It was boring. And my butt was getting big.
Then, one morning while stuck in yet another traffic jam, I had an epiphany. I realized that toiling for someone else (no matter how nice they were or how much they paid me) just wasn’t doing it anymore. Neither was the climate. I wanted to kitesurf. Hang out on the beach on my days off. Stop doing things and accumulating stuff that brought me no joy.
I wanted to live MY life (not a version that someone else told me should be my life).
So I acquired a climate appropriate wardrobe, bought a plane ticket and left my old life behind. I traded my Birkin for a backpack, my Ferragamos for flip flops and headed south. Far, far south. For a sabbatical of indeterminate length.
I ended up on a tiny Caribbean island. Learned to kitesurf. Got a tan. Met a nice Island Boy. And started living the dream.
Or at least trying to.
Because, you see, island life isn’t always one big umbrella drink with your toes in the sand. Nope. Some days it is just as challenging as any desk job in the “real world.” We just suffer in a nicer climate. And so it goes.
This blog is a chronicle of my adventures – now, before and everywhere in between.