Why I signed up for Remote Year
Not in a bad way. More in a “settling in” kind of way. When I create a home, a community, a life that I find comfortable and satisfying, I am in no rush to pack up and leave it all behind.
And I did it anyway.
I signed up for Remote Year. The 12 month program takes care of the travel and housing logistics for you and a group of strangers (33 in my case) as you travel to a new country every month for a year.
I hate logistics. I love travel. I have a remote job. To me, the reasons to do the program were obvious.
But there were some other things as well, because of course there are.
I have always been a homebody. I like to stay inside, I like my time alone, I like naps (no, I love naps) and I generally like a stress-free, comfortable existence.
In the U.S. I had an awesome apartment, a good-paying job, an amazing community of friends and I convinced myself, “This is all there is.”
But that nagging voice, the one that you can never get rid of, told me that it wasn’t. And all of the material things that I worked hard to afford and curated to maximum satisfaction still remained stuff to me. I didn’t care about any of it, actually. I didn’t know exactly what I was missing, but I figured I might as well try to look for it.
So I sold everything I owned until I had just a suitcase and backpack of tech, clothes, and memories.
Life is waking and sleeping, eating and working, laughing and crying, triumph and pain. I could do all of that in Washington, D.C.
Or I could do it in Portugal.
So I decided I would chill with some strangers and travel the world. Honestly? I had nothing better to do.