“Make Moves, Son”
- Graffiti at my son’s college campus
There’s a big gap between saying you should do something and actually getting started.
Even after my wife and I decided to sell everything and slow travel the world, I was hesitant. We had a nice house, a good job, and a comfortable life. The idea was exciting, but we honestly weren’t sure where to begin.
We started by watching videos of other travelers, trying to learn what to expect, what to avoid, and how others got started. Everyone had a different story and came from a different place in life, but one thing they all said really stuck with me: “I regret not starting sooner.”
That hit home. And at some point, slow travel stopped being something we wanted to do and became something we needed to do.
We knew there would be challenges and mistakes, but we reminded ourselves we always had options. We sketched out Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, and maybe even a few more. We had to account for work, finances, and whatever else came our way. We worked out a realistic budget, one that would let us save for retirement while still enjoying the journey, or at bare minimum, survive. We kept reminding ourselves that this wasn’t a vacation. This was life, just in different places. We planned to cook at home most of the time and only go out to affordable, local spots for the occasional night out. The upside was that if we wanted a vacation vibe, all we had to do was step outside.
At some point, you can only plan so much before you just have to move forward. The first real step we took was something called döstädning — Swedish for “death cleaning.” The idea is to sort through your possessions now, instead of leaving it all for your heirs after you’re gone. It was eye-opening. We realized that most of the things we thought were valuable really weren’t, and all those keepsakes we assumed our kids would cherish didn’t mean nearly as much to them as they did to us. All the handprint turkeys and macaroni art I’d saved over the years? They didn’t want them. So I took pictures, saved them to the cloud, and let them go.
We were nervous about telling our daughters what we were planning. Their reactions surprised us and made us feel more confident. Our oldest said, “We always knew you’d do something like this… just didn’t think it’d be so soon.” And our younger one said, “We always knew you’d do something like this. What took you so long?” It dawned on us: it may be crazy, but not unexpected.
Our friends and acquaintances were equally supportive. They all applauded the decision and even called it brave, though I suspect they weren’t too surprised either. My wife and I never had a reputation for following the usual path anyway.
The hardest conversation was with work. I knew I’d proven myself during the pandemic, working remotely and handling crises across three continents. Still, I had to convince them that this arrangement wouldn’t hurt my performance. They were cautious but understanding, and together we worked out clear expectations for hours, communication, and availability.
Then came selling the house and deciding where to begin our travels. We cleared it out, sold as much as we could, and got it ready to show. Picking our first destination was harder than expected. Funny enough, when we first started talking about this, we both said we’d never go to places like France or Albania. But after learning more about visas and watching more videos, they moved to the top of our list.
Most of the EU limits Americans to 90 days out of every 180, but Albania isn’t part of that system and even offers U.S. citizens a full-year tourist visa. We didn’t plan to stay that long, but it made a great hub for exploring the rest of Europe.
We put our house on the market and set tentative travel dates. We figured we’d probably need to stay in a hotel for a while, but we didn’t expect just how quickly the house would sell. In less than a week we had a contract, and within a month of putting up the “for sale” sign we were leaving our neighborhood for the last time, headed to a Residence Inn for the next six weeks.
My calendar filled with lunches and coffee dates with friends and coworkers who wanted to say goodbye. It was bittersweet. My wife called me in tears after taking her last classes and last hair appointments, etc., but she said she didn’t regret a thing.
My last day at work came quickly, and it was hard, but staying would have meant giving up this once-in-a-lifetime adventure. We were making the dream happen.
And now… it was time to go to Albania.
But first, Nice!
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Nice looks nice!