Here’s how Amtrak describes this swathe of track: 

New York – Washington, DC – Charleston – Savannah – Jacksonville – Orlando – Tampa / Miami
Up to 28 + hours, 1,300 miles
Daily Departure
Welcome aboard the Silver Meteor, Silver Star and Palmetto — a journey between exciting Northeast cityscapes, the Deep South’s Civil War history, and the sights and sounds of Florida’s beaches, cities and family attractions. Onboard, you will witness scenery not accessible by other modes of transportation while experiencing the unique comfort and relaxation of rail travel.

The beast has awoken, and it won’t take “but I could fly for less” as an excuse. 

Long distance train travel defies logic. It will almost always take you longer to reach your destination. It’s likely to arrive late; possibly many hours late. And chances are, it’ll cost more than flying. 

But…

You’ll save hours trudging to/from airports and languishing in various airport lineups. Overnight trains (in sleeper cars) include the cost of accommodation and food. It’s more environmentally friendly. And frankly, at least for me, it’s just plain magic. 

But by now you’re probably familiar with my bias. I have taken long-distance trains in 25 countries. I wrote a book about some of the more epic trips. I created videos about the opulent ones. And you’re reading a 4-part series about circumnavigating the U.S. by train. 

I like trains. A lot. 

And I can’t just stop. After a horrendous pandemic lockdown, I unleashed the hounds of travel with my epic train trip from Chicago to New Orleans via the entire west coast. (And yes, I’m well aware that the west coast is the very long way around between these destinations.) Now all I can do is dream about where else I can travel by train. 

The east coast of the U.S. is blatantly missing from my repertoire on this trip, and I have to travel from Florida to New York anyway. So, why not by train? 

Oh. This is Different. 

As the train pulls into the station in south Florida, I tearfully embrace my best friend with whom I’ve been staying for the last six weeks. I visit her at least once a year, but our parting moments don’t get any easier despite repetition. 

I climb up onto the train and find my Roomette. After my experience on the Empire Builder, I am prepared for the tiny space, which is much better-suited for solo travelers than pairs (especially a pair that has just met!). To my surprise, this roomette is bigger! I think. It feels at least a little bit bigger, because it has a toilet and sink. 

While I’m initially quite excited about my plumbing situation, as the hours go by I can’t bring myself to actually….go….in this toilet that is very much in my personal bubble. Instead I pop into neighbouring cars to visit the dedicated restrooms and do my business. I figure the toilet in my cabin will be convenient for a midnight pee, but I have no plans to use it otherwise. 

While I’m visiting neighbouring cars, I see that they are brand new. The Roomettes have the same dimensions, but the toilets have been removed (the fold-down sinks remain). I guess I’m not the only person to question the sanitary wisdom of using a toilet inches away from where I sit and sleep. I cringe to think of how Matt and I would have managed in such a room; the thought of doing my business in an open space within whispering distance of a travel companion is laughable, no matter how tight we are. We simply wouldn’t have used it. 

While the roomette spaciousness as a solo traveler is a win, the dining situation is not. Unfortunately, this route on Amtrak doesn’t have linen table service or chef-prepared meals like the other Amtrak distance routes do. Meals are still provided, and there is a choice of entrees, but they are pre-made and a cut (a sliver, perhaps) above airplane food; actually, depending on the airline and class of service, I have had better airplane meals. 

Worse yet, everything is served in disposable containers on disposable trays with disposable cutlery and napkins and cups and plastic bottles….I cringe with each meal as my zero waste ambitions fade into oblivion. 

I ask the dining car attendant if it has always been like this on the Silver Meteor route. 

I learn that they used to have table service and a chef. But they cut it before COVID; presumably a budget move. In fact at that time Amtrak had cut the full dining service on all their trains, but the other routes just brought it back a couple of months ago. 

I realize I got lucky with my train rides so far; while I had assumed dining service has always been of the caliber that I received on the Empire Builder and Sunset Limited, apparently it was only resurrected a couple of weeks before I began my trip. I now understand why the Silver Meteor route seemed comparatively cheaper than the other trains I took. 

Although the food situation is disappointing and the toilet situation is confusing, I am still utterly elated to be spending another 28 hours on a train. 

Silver Meteor Amtrak Tip: My impression from speaking to the staff was that Amtrak will at some point reinstate full dining service on this route. You can check in advance; the website has clues – I’d just failed to pick up on them.

Sleepless in Savannah 

I spend the entire day in my delightful cabin, amusing myself with the normal accoutrements of train trips: writing, listening to music, and hypnotically gazing out the window. 

“What are you going to do tonight? Are you ready for your bed to be made?” asks the cabin attendant around 9pm. 

“I’m going to lay in bed and read my book until I can’t stay awake, then I’m going to sleep like a baby, then wake up and lay in bed some more while I watch the world go by,” I reply with a bright smile (that I hope he can see underneath my face mask). He smiles despite (or perhaps because of) my overshare. “So yes, I’m ready for the bed to be made, thank you.” 

Things don’t quite go according to plan however. The reading part is great, but the sleeping part is horrendous. I’ve experienced this before; I learned when I rode 15,000 kms of trains in Australia that sleep is a total crap shoot. I count myself lucky that the rest of my Amtrak experiences have been pretty solid sleeps, because tonight is an exercise in tossing and turning. 

As a silver lining (on the Silver Meteor – ha ha), when I eventually give up trying to sleep, I get to watch the sun rise while laying in bed. There’s something luxurious about lying in bed on a train, and I quickly forget about my substandard snooze. 

The Silver Meteor Amtrak Experience: Home Stretch 

By 8:30am we are pulling into Washington DC and I stretch my legs on the platform. The sticky south Florida summer heat has been replaced with more comfortable temperatures. After Washington comes a steady stretch of urban landscapes including Baltimore, Philadelphia, and a long approach to New York City via New Jersey. 

I’m excited to have a night in Manhattan; the last time I was here was over 10 years ago. I’m going to check out the High Line (which has been built since my last visit), and I may even try to catch a Broadway show. 

As we pull into Penn Station, can you guess what I’m doing?? I’ll bet you can. 

I’m dreaming about my next train trip. 

Need to Catch Up?
Adventures With Amtrak, Part 1: The Big Idea

Amtrak Adventures, Part 2: The Empire Builder 

Amtrak Adventures Part 3: Portland, LA, Sunset Limited Train to New Orleans

Interested in some of the other epic train trips I’ve done? Check out:
The Indian Pacific (Australia)
The Ghan (Australia)
The Ultimate Train Challenge (Lisbon to Saigon) – VIDEO 

This post The Silver Meteor – Amtrak Adventures Part 4 (Florida to NYC) appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

The Cascades: Seattle to Portland 

After lunch with some more of Matt’s friends in Seattle, we return to the train station for the four hour train trip to Portland; an easy commute with lovely scenery. The Amtrak Cascades train route goes from Vancouver to Eugene Oregon, but we are just on board for the well-trodden middle portion from Seattle to Portland. 

While standing in line to board the train, we run into our dinner companions from our first night on the Empire Builder, and enjoy a spirited reunion and comparison of our respective Seattle experiences. 

The beautiful scenery along this small portion of the west coast makes me very sad that our second scheduled train – the Coast Starlight from Portland to Los Angeles – has been canceled due to fire damaged tracks. While long-distance train trips such as these are far from money-saving adventures, the entire refunded money from this stage of our train trip is immediately swallowed up by an additional night of accommodation in Portland plus flights from Portland to LA. 

Pinot and Pizza in Portland

Having long heard about the delights of Oregon State in general, and Portland in particular, I really enjoy getting to know Portland as a “city of neighbourhoods”, each with its own style and pace. 

Matt and I immediately find a coffee shop close to where we are staying in the northeastern part of Portland with a work-friendly ambiance and coffee so good that we can’t bring ourselves to go anywhere else for our work sessions. But we still get around the city, using their well-appointed public transportation infrastructure to check out different neighbourhoods and sample a variety of fare including some excellent Ethiopian, Mexican, gourmet donuts, and we even find a pizza place that is apparently considered the second best pizza in the United States, but I am so hungry and a bit drunk from a day of drinking wine that I may not appreciate its finer qualities. 

That’s because the pizza follows up the highlight of our time in Portland, which is a winery tour of the Willamette region. Being one of a few places in the world with a similar altitude and terroir suitable for finicky pinot noir grapes, said grapes were imported from Burgundy France to Oregon in the 1960’s and have flourished ever since. In fact, although I can’t find any written proof to substantiate this, rumour has it that the original grapes in Burgundy were subsequently destroyed and it was the Oregon varietal that was used to repopulate Burgundy’s vineyards. 

At the start of the day we are thrown together with four other strangers and an enthusiastic guide who can’t seem to make the air conditioning work in our van and does her best to distract us with a monologue about the history of the area while we drive to the first winery. As tends to happen with group tours like this, by the end of the day we are all laughing like we’ve been friends forever. The scenery at each vineyard gets increasingly more beautiful and climaxes at the exclusive Domaine Serene winery where we are treated to a private tasting by a sommelier who is evidently confused as to how such a motley crew gained admission as our giggles waft to the tables of other more serious patrons. 

Which takes me back to the second best pizza in the United States; a claim made in a CNN article about pizza published just a week prior and one that we simply must substantiate. (You know, for science.) The pizza joint is so exclusive that it’s only open a few days a week, and only for pickup after ordering online hours in advance. Our initial plans to take our bounty back to our place are foiled by both hunger and curiosity, which result in us eating the entire pizza while standing on the sidewalk. This enthusiastic consumption is certainly evidence that it was a damn good pizza, but with Chicago deep-dish still in my rear-view mirror, I remain dubious about its status as second best in the country. 

“Matt! What have I done?! Why did you let me eat two dinners?” I moan in bloated agony. He snickers. With an appetite befitting his height and gender, Matt generally eats more than I do, so when we are walking back to our accommodation following wine and pizza, he wanders into a food truck pavilion and orders more food. The night is young and with eyes bigger than my stomach and wine-impaired judgement, I am bedazzled by a sushi burrito that I figure is small enough that surely it’s an appropriate follow up to pizza. 

I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten two consecutive dinners, but hey – travel is for new experiences. This trip is nothing if not indulgent.  

Los Angeles (Cough Cough)

I’ve visited Los Angeles a few times and never found it to be particularly memorable. Matt, a former LA resident for seven years, is determined to change that. We are staying in the downtown area (his former hood), and he’s eager to show me the diversity and energetic pulse of Los Angeles. The pandemic makes this challenging, but not impossible.

Thus far in the trip, we have been living a fairly effective “post-pandemic” life. Leaving a horrendously long lockdown in Toronto and arriving to Chicago is a shock, as I have almost forgotten what “normal life” could be like. I re-learn how to be indoors and not wear a mask. What it’s like to eat in a restaurant. And what it’s like to meet people and forge new friendships. 

That is not to say that masks are a thing of the past. Amtrak requires masks to be worn on the train at all times unless eating or in the privacy of a sleeper cabin. Airports also require masks at all times. And as our train trip progresses, it becomes apparent that the pandemic is far from a thing of the past; the Delta variant is having its way with the United States, and by the time we reach LA, it is becoming a hotspot. 

So Matt’s initial attempt to betroth me to LA isn’t met with universal cooperation. 

“Want to go for a walk?” he says as we drop our bags at our accommodation. It’s 9pm and I’ve got a belly full of In-and-Out Burger (an obligatory LA experience I’m told). 

“Sure! Why not,” I reply enthusiastically. 

With gusto, Matt shepherds us to the LA Live area, normally a hive of activity with a stadium, convention center, and myriad of restaurants and bars. 

It is completely deserted. 

“I don’t understand. I’ve never seen it like this,” Matt wonders. It’s obviously pandemic-related, but this level of emptiness – on a Saturday night no less – is unexpected. Even the Starbucks that is normally open until the wee hours of the morning closed at 8:00pm. 

With the original place he intended to take me to being a bust, Matt conjures up another bar with a great view from his memory and leads me there. Also closed. We call around to a few other places. Closed. We find a roof-top night club that’s open, but it’s ridiculously crowded and comes with a hefty cover charge that deters us. 

“Perch will be open. It has to be,” Matt says, and a couple who overhears us confirms it. At this point we’ve been wandering for almost two hours, although it’s far from a hardship. The weather is perfect and we are both walkers at heart; walking is one of the best ways to discover a city. 

Our circuitous journey makes arriving at Perch Rooftop Bar all the sweeter. “Perch: An Elevated Resting Place” is adorned with fairy lights and offers amazing views of downtown Los Angeles. We enjoy a glass of wine at the bar, and Matt orders another burger for us to share; this $20 burger a bizarre juxtaposition to our $3 In-and-Out burgers a few hours prior, and my second shot this trip at a double-dinner evening. I make a mental note to double up my exercise routine tomorrow. Little do I know I’m about to get a great workout and unconventional tour of LA. 

In downtown LA, electric kick scooters litter the sidewalks. There are a variety of scooter rental companies (Lime and Bird being two popular examples). Using them is as simple as downloading the app, inputting payment information, finding a scooter, and scanning the QR code with your phone. The scooter magically comes to life and you can take it anywhere while the clock ticks. You are charged based on time used and/or distance traveled. I’ve never done this, and I’m curious. 

“Let’s take scooters home instead of an Uber,” I suggest. 

“Sure, but just in case you think we’ll save money doing this, we won’t,” Matt warns. 

“It’ll be more fun though!” I say, and he nods in agreement. I also can’t imagine it costing that much more than an Uber, so I take Matt’s warning with a grain of salt. 

The $28 bill (per person) at the end of the night is just as much our fault as it is the scooters being expensive; instead of heading straight home we end up on an impromptu two-hour joy ride around a deserted downtown LA at 2:00am. It’s ridiculously fun and I can’t help but giggle joyfully the entire time; I mentally vow to explore other cities that have scooter programs in a similar fashion. 

Considering the evening started out with a whole stream of roadblocks due to the pandemic, it ends on one of the highest notes of the trip yet. It’s a poetic simile to travel in general; you can plan as much as you like, but you’re inevitably going to get some curve balls along the way, and your resulting experience will depend on how you choose to pivot and make the most of what’s available. 

Over the next few days we certainly make the most of Los Angeles, the majority of our experiences involving food in different neighbourhoods (LA being another city that, like Portland, is considered more a collection of neighbourhoods than a cohesive city). We meet up with a few of Matt’s friends as well as a dear friend of mine from San Diego for an epic dinner accompanied by multiple bottles of wine in Santa Monica. I meet yet more of Matt’s friends for a feast in Little Korea. And Matt and I dress up to the nines one night (he in his three-piece suit and me in a unique silk dress from Indonesia) to have a ritzy dinner on the Sunset Strip. 

By the time we leave LA I have a collection of amazing experiences that will fade into fond memories. Much to Matt’s chagrin, I still wouldn’t cite LA as a favourite city of mine; while the scooters were fun, public transportation on the whole is lacking for a city that size. Also, the concentration of homeless and mentally-disturbed people in tent cities comes as a disturbing shock as I’ve seen nothing like it before and I must admit it throws a certain degree of shade on my experience as a whole. 

That said, Matt’s efforts are far from wasted, and I can tick off Los Angeles on this train trip as a place we “did” really, really well. 

Boarding the Sunset Limited Train 

Here’s how Amtrak sets the stage for the Sunset Limited Train: 

Los Angeles – Phoenix – Tuscon – San Antonio – New Orleans
48 hours
Departures Three Days a Week
Travel between Louisiana and California along our southern-most route. While onboard the Sunset Limited Train, settle back and watch the Bayou Country, Mexican border, southwestern deserts and California mountains pass by your window.

We boarded the Empire Builder in Chicago exactly two weeks ago. Having missed out on the Coast Starlight portion of the journey, it seems like ages since we’ve been on a train, and it feels a little bit like coming home. 

Our boarding time isn’t until late in the evening, but our required 12pm checkout from our accommodation doesn’t phase us, since sleeper-class passengers have access to Amtrak lounges, and certain major departure points (like Los Angeles) have great lounge facilities. 

We lock up our luggage in a secure room connected to the lounge (another perk for sleeper-class passengers), set up shop with our laptops and free WiFi (and snacks) for a few hours, then hit the streets of LA for a brisk pre-train walk and dinner. 

We board at 10pm, and settle into our bedroom cabin (which is considerably more comfortable than the roomette we had on the previous train), which has already been turned down for us. Despite the beds being down, there is still space for us to move about (albeit cramped space, but let’s get it right: it’s a train), and with the sink and bathroom we can tend to our pre-bedtime routine with relative ease in general; and much more ease compared to the roomette. 

I clamber up into the top bunk again which has a bit more headroom, and with space enough for a proper ladder to ascend, makes for a much more civilized experience. 

Again, I am lulled into hypnotic sleep from the train’s movement and rocking. 

It’s great to be back. 

Sunset Limited Day 2: Tuscon to Somewhere-In-Texas

Matt has been feeling under-the-weather for a few days. It is no more than a cold, but it’s taking a toll. Last night he said he intended to sleep in as much as possible, knowing he’d likely miss out on breakfast. I intend to get breakfast, but I accidentally sleep almost late enough to miss it myself. Despite the extra space in the bedroom cabin, trying to get up and changed and out of the room without waking Matt is challenging. Thankfully last night I had laid out some clothing and shoes so I could steal away with a few items to amuse myself until he awakes. 

Little do I realize I’m going to be amusing myself this way for three hours. 

I do, however, thoroughly enjoy sitting in the observation car watching the beautiful Arizona mountains, red soil, and green cacti passing by outside the window. I’m so smitten feeling the motion of train, taking in the gorgeous views, and generally enjoying the excitement and poetry of this trip, which was dreamt up and booked in an impulsive 24-hour period just a few weeks prior. 

Unfortunately, the staff on this train aren’t nearly as friendly as on the last one (and frankly, most of the trains I’ve been on around the world). One of my observations over the years is that most of the people I’ve met who work on trains adore their jobs, and it shows in how they conduct themselves and interact with passengers. But the staff on this train are harder to chat with, and while I’m loitering in the dining car after breakfast, I overhear them in the neighbouring section, complaining about many things from unruly passengers to unharmonious encounters with other train staff, to disgruntled soliloquies about the inner workings of Amtrak. 

Also, there are considerably fewer passengers on this train than there were on the Empire Builder, so meeting people in the dining car doesn’t happen as it did on the last train, largely because every party is seated at their own table. The Delta wave of COVID is currently surging through the U.S. however, so it’s possible dining alone is also being mandated, and all things considered I think it’s a good idea. 

Despite a less social experience, this train ride is a dream. The scenery is beautiful, and I wile the day away intermittently gazing out the window and writing on my laptop. The American Southwest is new territory for me, and I regularly catch myself wishing I could sit on this train forever. 

My love for this form of travel simply can’t be overstated. Some travelers (myself included) feel a surge of excitement when their plane takes off, and the point of origin fades away slowly, the clouds bringing the promise of arrival to new land and landscape in a few hours. For me, that surge of excitement lasts for the entire train ride, which in this case, means two days of bliss. 

Matt and I get permission to camp out in the dining car between lunch and dinner for our espresso-making ritual. As on the last train, the staff members sitting nearby are enthralled with the process. We laugh and joke with them about the our finicky routine of grinding the beans by hand and then making the espresso in Matt’s little portable espresso maker. They amusedly supply us with hot water so we can feed our passionate caffeine addiction. 

When I started this trip with Matt, I informed him that under no circumstances do I drink coffee after 2pm, as I don’t wish it to affect my sleep. In truth, I’m not actually sure if it does. I had one experience years ago when I had a coffee after dinner and then I couldn’t get to sleep. For this reason alone (and the general idea that caffeine affects sleep), I’ve since held to the no-coffee-after-2pm rule. 

Matt shrugged when I told him this. “I drink it at all times of day and night. Doesn’t affect me.” 

Since that day, I’ve found myself joining Matt in his espresso sessions later and later each day. And here we are, at 7:30pm, making our pre-dinner espresso. 

“Didn’t you have a 2pm cut-off time for drinking coffee?” he says with a smirk while grinding beans for our second shot of the night. 

“You’re ruining me for coffee. I’m becoming a full-on espresso-snob. And now I need shots throughout the day. You’ve created a monster!” 

“On the contrary,” he replies with a smile. “I’m quite impressed with how far you’ve come on this trip.”

Traveling with Matt has been an enjoyable exchange and sharing of ideas. I’ve not only levelled up my coffee game, but he has introduced me to new ways of traveling and socializing as a digital nomad; techniques that, had I employed them in years gone by, might have circumvented the catastrophic burnout I had that led me to return to Toronto and set up a home base after 12 years of full-time travel. While there’s nothing for me to regret, I do plan to try out a few new dance moves in terms of my travel style in the next few years. He has also given me some great perspective and ideas for my online business that I am inspired by and grateful for. 

Likewise, I’ve helped Matt in the travel gear department. After dissecting the contents of our bags together with childlike joy and wonder, I was fascinated to discover just how much stuff he fits into his carry-on entourage; things like an espresso maker, wine aerator, three-piece suit, and an entire podcasting studio. But that’s far from the extent of his gear, as evidenced by his ridiculously heavy bags. I coach him to drop this and that, and replace a few items with more lightweight multi-functional alternatives. We also speak at length about podcasting, and he asks me for online content creation and marketing advice. 

Traveling in extremely close quarters with Matt (a relative stranger just a few weeks ago) has, despite the warnings of my skeptical friends, been a lot of fun. One or two inconsequential disagreements thus far have tested our mutual communication and problem-solving skills. We both understand the challenges of traveling in close quarters with other people, and our respective experiences have served us well. 

It’s great we have this foundation, because my patience is about to be tested. 

Sunset Limited Train Day 3: San Antonio to New Orleans

When I awake the train isn’t moving. I look on my Goole Maps app and see that we are in San Antonio, Texas. I quickly dress and emerge from the cabin to ask the conductor how long we are in the station. “Oh at least 30 minutes. They’re inspecting the train.” 

I wonder if the inspection has anything to do with what I perceived to be a breakdown last night. While falling asleep I remember the acrid smell of burning rubber wafting though the cabin as the train came to an abrupt stop accompanied by the sound of a loud clunk of metal and a long hiss coming from somewhere below me. 

I laid in bed, awake with curiosity, listening to subsequent clunks and hisses that happened over the next hour or so before the train eventually jerked back to life. 

After taking advantage of the 30-minute break on this sunny quiet morning to take a spirited walk in the neighbourhood around the San Antonio station, I return to the dining car for breakfast, thankful that they were willing to hold breakfast for me so I could take this walk. The staff’s demeanour towards me seems to have softened since yesterday morning, and I wonder if it’s the espresso that endeared them to Matt and I. 

“Is the train on time?” I ask the dining car attendant as she takes our reservation for lunch and dinner seatings. 

“Nope.” I laugh at the immediacy of her response. Last night I overheard a staff member saying this train last week was five hours late arriving to New Orleans. 

I’m not surprised. Many of the long-distance routes I’ve taken have been delayed. Passenger trains play second fiddle to freight trains, so when a freight train needs to pass (or is coming the other way), trains like this one need to pull over wherever there is a secondary track available and wait for the freight train to go by. Depending on where the passenger train is able to pull over, the wait can be long. And in the last 24 hours, I’ve noticed a lot of long waits. This, coupled with what I manage to confirm was indeed a breakdown of sorts last night, will have put us well behind schedule. It’s possible to make up a lot of time, but I mentally prepare myself for a late arrival tonight. 

Matt continues to doze in the cabin while I set up my laptop in the lounge car and do some writing, again inspired by the romance of passing landscapes, listening to the muted train horn as we approach intersections, and curiously watching the land go from being red and flat and full of cacti with a backdrop of faraway mountains (as was the case for most of yesterday), to lush green dense foliage and forests interspersed with fields of citrus trees, farms, and small towns. 

Lunch approaches and Matt still hasn’t stirred. I rouse him from his slumber in the cabin, slightly irked that I’ve been ousted the last two mornings running. My absolute favourite thing to do on overnight train rides is to wake up and watch the world go by (ideally with a cup of coffee in hand) and luxuriously welcome the day while lying in bed. Not once on this 5,000 mile trip has that been possible. The top bunk has no windows, and Matt has closed the curtains next to his bottom bunk, requiring me to get up and sneak out in the dark the last two mornings. 

If I’d known I’d be spending the majority of my time in the lounge car, I wouldn’t have paid the extra money for the bloody upgrade to a bedroom! But I cool my jets, reminding myself that he has a cold and if I felt unwell I would appreciate the extra sleep too. 

After lunch, we each take turns commandeering the cabin for a shower. The sleeper cabin’s private bathroom resembles what one would have on a boat. A teensy space with a toilet, a shower head against the wall, and a drain on the floor. The sink and mirror are outside the bathroom in the main part of the cabin. 

The bathroom situation is far from a luxurious experience, until I remind myself that I’m on a train and that having a private bathroom with a shower on a train is still pretty lux. (That said, I remember my full-sized bathroom on the Deccan Odyssey; the Deccan Odyssey this is not). 

While Matt is taking his turn, I chat with the man sitting next to me in the lounge car. He’s also on a month-long train trip around the States, except he’s doing it in coach class and for the most part he is breaking it up into much smaller chunks, staying with various friends and family members along the way. I discover he also works remotely, and this is his first stab at traveling long-term while working along the way. We quickly find a conversational groove speaking about various nuances and logistics of managing a travel lifestyle along with remote work obligations – something I specialize in helping people do effectively. He peppers me with questions and I happily oblige before we start trading travel tales. 

Matt reappears and it’s time for another espresso session. While we are making espresso, the woman sitting at a table across from us overhears us talking about website management and SEO and asks some questions as they pertain to some work she’s trying to do around writing for economics publications. 

The train pulls into El Paso Texas, and we are informed we’ll be in the station for at least 15 minutes while various passengers are off-loaded and others on-loaded. Long-distance train travel is incredibly sedentary, so every time there is a station stop long enough to stretch my legs, I get off the train and walk. If the stop is short I keep my stroll to walking up and down the platform, for fear of the train departing without me. On the train from Chicago to Seattle, we ate lunch in the dining car with a couple who described exactly such a scenario happening to them in Italy, and while it made for an amusing story (as many travel mis-adventures tend to with a good dose of retrospect), I am in no mood to follow in their footsteps. 

“Okay, Nora. Go enjoy the cabin. You’re wasting valuable time,” says Matt sardonically, after we’ve started moving again. Earlier on, I couldn’t contain my frustration that I’d shared a not-insignificant expense with him in upgrading to a bedroom that I’d felt largely ousted from while he slept. 

“I thought you said one of the things you love about train travel is meeting people!” he had replied at the time. 

“It is, but that’s more about the dining car experience – since eating with people is one of the best ways to get to know them. And besides, in all my time sitting out here the past two mornings, I haven’t met anybody. The vibe isn’t here this time.” 

His solution to my beef is to give me the rest of the day at my leisure in the cabin. So at the moment of course, the irony is not lost on me that in the last hour I’ve met and conversed with two interesting people, on the eve of my last night on the train, and I would happily have remained in the lounge car with Matt, chatting with various folks. 

But instead, out of some mis-directed form of pride in combination with donkey-like stubbornness, I head to the cabin for a different kind of train experience (and one that thankfully turns out to be equally enjoyable): reclining by the window with my feet up, playing some music, and lulling myself into a hypnotic state while watching the world go by. 

Over dinner, I wonder aloud whether I could continue the train journey to my next destination in south Florida where I’m due to visit a friend. While the 55 hour circuitous trip via Washington DC doesn’t put me off, the price point (at $1,000 more than my already-scheduled flight) does. I decide to stick with my existing flight, but I also vow to take the train from Florida to my next destination in Connecticut the following month, where I’m speaking at a conference. 

The train is due to arrive in New Orleans at 9:40pm, but when I ask the conductor, I’m told it will be a minimum of 90 minutes late. I frown. 

“What? Doesn’t that mean more time on the train? Don’t you loooooove train travel?” Matt playfully says in response to my frown. 

Despite poking fun at me, he has a fair point, and I settle back in to the cabin to continue enjoying my space, the canter of the train, and doing some inspired writing about my train trip thus far. 

We pull in to New Orleans after midnight, and despite the late hour, the muggy heat of summer in the deep south doesn’t let up, and it re-calibrates our body temperatures (which have become largely accustomed to a very air-conditioned train for the last 55 or so hours). We walk to our apartment for the week in a moody silence, reflecting on the last 5,000 miles of travel (largely by train), happy to have completed a trip of such magnitude, and sad that it couldn’t have gone on just a bit longer. That sadness is a common ailment for most travelers; it’s what keeps us planning the next trip, and the next. 

Conclusion: New Friends Become Old Friends 

Matt and I spend an epic week in New Orleans together before parting ways; he to his own lifestyle travel adventures and I to mine. A little over a month ago, we were relative strangers; colleagues at best. Now, after a month of traveling and living together (at times in ridiculously small spaces!), we share a knowledge of one another and a level of friendship that would take years to develop under any other circumstances. 

Traveling does that. I’ve long professed that travel accelerates the pace of a romantic relationship, and it does for friendships as well. If I consider the sheer amount of time Matt and I have spent together and the experiences we’ve shared in the last month, and try to amortize that over three and four-hour weekly lunches and coffees such as one might experience with a new friend (in a non-travel world), it would probably take years to break even. So by “normal” friendship standards, we’ve been friends for years now. 

The double-edge to that sword is that sometimes, the natural progression of a relationship includes a fallout or breakdown that can spell the end, and while in a non-travel world it could take months or years to reach that crisis point, it can happen a lot faster when spending such a concentrated amount of time together as happens in a travel scenario. 

Lucky for Matt and I, we part with big hugs, much gratitude for the laughter and learning we have experienced together, and the promise of another shared travel adventure, someday.

Probably on a train. 

But wait, there’s more! I kept to my vow to continue the train journey from Florida to Connecticut, seven weeks later. Stay tuned for Adventures With Amtrak Part 4 to see what happens!!

Need to Catch Up?
Adventures With Amtrak, Part 1: The Big Idea
Amtrak Adventures, Part 2: The Empire Builder 

Some Other Train Adventures for You to Enjoy
India’s Deccan Odyssey from Jaipur to Mumbai
The Indian Pacific Across Australia (and Back)
Taking The Canadian from Toronto to Vancouver (sort of)
The Ghan from Darwin to Adelaide in Australia
The Ultimate Train Challenge from Lisbon to Saigon (25,000 kms in 30 days)

This post Amtrak Adventures Part 3: Portland, LA, Sunset Limited Train to New Orleans appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

The Empire Builder train, as explained on the Amtrak site: 

Experience the rugged splendor of the American West. Traveling between Chicago and the Pacific Northwest along major portions of the Lewis and Clark trail, the mighty Empire Builder takes you on an exciting adventure through majestic wilderness, following the footsteps of early pioneers.
From Chicago, you’ll have magnificent views of the Mississippi and see the glowing night skyline of Minneapolis and St. Paul. Awake the next morning as you cross the North Dakota plains and travel over the spectacular Gassman Coulee Trestle. Skirting the Missouri, you’ll cross into the Big Sky country in Montana, passing by a travelers’ favorite, Glacier National Park. From Spokane, you can continue on to Seattle or head down the Columbia River Gorge toward Portland for spectacular views of Mt. Hood and Beacon Rock.

Meeting in Chicago

“So good to finally meet you!” Matt says while enveloping me in a big hug in the lobby of our Chicago hotel. It feels more like meeting an old friend than a new one. 

We immediately go up to the room and do what a couple of digital nomads who just met would do: we talk about travel gear. We are both ultralight packing enthusiasts, traveling long-term / full-time with carry-on luggage only, and anybody who travels this way is likely to be not only enthusiastic but also a bit obsessive about curating the perfect items balancing both fashion and function. 

Matt turns out to be my travel-gear-soulmate. 

The next couple of days are a blur of working in coffee shops, walking around downtown Chicago, and meeting up with a number of Matt’s friends who live in the area. Matt is a connected guy in digital nomad circles, having participated in various co-living and co-working programs like Remote Year, Hacker Paradise, Nomad Cruise, Nomad Train, and more. We already have plans to meet up with more of his remote working friends and colleagues in Seattle and LA. 

Never having been to Chicago before, we make a good go of it. We gorge on deep dish pizza (how did I not know such things existed??), take in sweeping views of the city from the 96^th floor at Signature Lounge, sip wine and people-watch on the river bank, race around on an Indian-style pub crawl on Devon Street (instead of drinking beer at each place we sample an Indian dish each restaurant is known for), and laugh uncontrollably while sharing travel stories with Matt’s fellow Remote Year alumni over multiple bottles of wine at the funky Time Out Market. 

Boarding the Empire Builder Train (What Have We Done?!?!)

There are two kinds of sleeper class accommodation on Amtrak’s trains: a Roomette, and a full Bedroom. The Roomette consists of two single seats facing one another during the day; at night the seats fold down into a single bed, and an upper bunk bed comes down from the ceiling. Roomette passengers have access to bathrooms and shower facilities shared with other Roomette passengers in the same car. The Bedroom has twice the space of a Roomette, including a private toilet and shower in the cabin. 

Matt and I are intrepid travelers, not afraid of tight spaces, and the bedroom comes at a premium we’re feeling gun shy about; we assume the Roomette will suffice. 

We are immediately horrified at how small our Roomette is. I mean, we knew it would be small, but there isn’t even enough room for us both to stand in the tiny space that exists between the two seats. Just trying to find enough room for us and our carry-on luggage necessitates a comical version of anatomical Tetris.

I had every intention of seeing if we could navigate an upgrade to a bedroom anyway (as I have learned on other long-distance trains around the world, you can upgrade on-board for a deep discount), and my latest search on the Amtrak site indicated there was at least one bedroom cabin available. Seeing the size of the Roomette adds a sense of urgency to this mission. 

I set off in search of the conductor, who informs me that they don’t actually do upgrades on the train any more, and that I’ll need to call the 1-800 number; an experience I’ve already discovered usually entails sitting on hold for 30-90 minutes. 

Undeterred, I get on the phone and am surprised to be immediately connected to somebody despite the automated attendant cheerfully informing me I’d be waiting for more than two hours. 

There are no bedrooms available, much to our chagrin. 

“While I have you,” I say, “what’s the deal with the Portland to LA route? Has the track reopened?” 

Two weeks prior, wildfires had literally melted a section of track but I was told the repairs were scheduled to be complete a week before our trip and that everything would be fine. 

“Didn’t you get the email?” she responds. I gird my loins and say no. She proceeds to describe the results of an imposed itinerary change: a 1-day train ride, followed by an overnight bus ride, before picking up the final leg by train for another full day. “We’ve upgraded you to a deluxe bedroom for both of the train rides and we refunded $150 to your card for the inconvenience.” 

Matt, sitting across from me with wide eyes, still trying to comprehend how we are going to survive the next two days and two nights in this closet-sized room, signals he’s not interested in this new itinerary. We’re on the same page. 

I politely inform the Amtrak rep that we didn’t pay (somewhat exorbitantly, despite a $150 refund) to spend a night on a bus. I request a refund, and am luckily obliged. 

“Ask about upgrading to a bedroom for the final train,” Matt whispers. Perhaps knowing we’ll have nicer digs for the final ride from LA to New Orleans will help us survive this first leg. 

I’m transferred to another department where I’m informed it will be an extra $500. I look to Matt to see if he’s on board. He nods vigorously. They could have said the upgrade was $2,000 and we would probably still have agreed. (Well, maybe not, but it gives you an idea of how panicky we are given our brand new friendship and the size of this Roomette). 

We haven’t even left the station, and we’re wondering if we’ve made a mistake booking this epic train trip with Amtrak. 

Empire Builder Day 1: Chicago to Somewhere-In-Minnesota

It’s immediately evident to us that we won’t be spending time in the Roomette. Even during the day it’s cramped. So we find various nooks and crannies to stuff our belongings and head to the lounge car. 

The lounge car is shared between sleeper class and coach class passengers, and as such it’s the point of congregation for everybody, which makes it the best place to eavesdrop and people-watch. I’m always fascinated by the various people who travel long-distance by trains, and I’m excited to spend the next few days observing and meeting some of these people. 

There’s a guy who is drinking beer (a lot of it), and reading the bible, and talking loudly about how he likes to drink beer and read the bible. A lot. He’s holding captive a young guy who is spreading peanut butter and jelly on bread (presumably this is his dinner); he is nodding and smiling, and obliging Bible/Beer-Man’s requests to read various passages. 

So far, so good. People watching is off to a great start. 

Matt and I settle into a table and Matt proceeds to make round after round of small espresso shots; he’s testing out a new portable coffee grinder and hand pump-style espresso maker, determined to get the perfect balance of grind, tamping, and quantity of water and coffee. 

We are being watched, intensely. 

Sitting across from us is a group of five young men playing cards and wearing tailored navy blue pants, royal blue collared shirts, and navy blue vests to match the pants. Their haircuts are identical: it’s worn ear-length, with a straight line of bangs across the middle of their foreheads. It’s a bit reminiscent of a monk’s haircut circa the medieval times, minus the shaved spot on the crown. They are speaking a language that bears no resemblance to any language I understand, but intermixed with their unintelligible vocabulary are words and small phrases of English (which I note is said in a perfect American accent). Two of these fellows are mesmerized with our espresso operation. We interpret their fascination as an opening for conversation. 

“Where are you from?” Matt asks. 

“Michigan,” one boy responds after they collectively recover from the shock of somebody interacting with them. 

“What language are you speaking?” 

They seem to contemplate the question for a while, before saying “Pennsylvania Dutch”. 

Curiosity gets the better of me and I ask “What is the significance of your clothing?” They look at me in a way that requires me to elaborate. “You are all wearing the same outfits. The same shirts, vests…” Their spokesperson shrugs and says “this is just the way we dress in our community.” 

It seems our cultural exchange is complete as they shyly return to their card game, and Matt and I return to the task of making espresso. 

I hop online and a quick search of Pennsylvania Dutch reveals a tight-knit community from a lineage of Germans who emigrated to the Pennsylvania area in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Over the years, their language has become a dialect all its own, as has their religion which has roots in Lutheran, German Reform, Anabaptist, Mennonite, Amish, and Brethren. 

They mostly keep to themselves, but over the next few days we exchange nods and smiles, and I manage to learn this is the first time they have ever traveled beyond their community, and they are on this train trip because they have always wanted to travel this way. I completely understand; for me, long-distance train travel is as much the destination unto itself as it is the place the train is traveling to. 

After Matt and I take turns in the roomette juggling luggage and changing outfits, we head to the dining car for the last dinner seating. As with many long-distance trains, the dining car can’t handle all the sleeper class passengers at once, and so we choose pre-reserved seating times. I adore the last seating because there’s no rush to leave to accommodate another seating, and I have consistently had the most interesting experiences while languishing after meals in the dining car. Tonight is no exception. 

After dining with a very enthusiastic very well-traveled retired couple who pepper us with stories of their decades living and traveling abroad, they leave and we keep the conversation going with a boisterous group of three Indian-American couples. Everybody in our merry band shares their top two favourite places in the world, and with each share people contribute stories and anecdotes. Before we know it, we have conversationally traveled around the world a few times over and we’ve also closed down the dining car. 

Going to bed is beyond awkward. While we’ve been at dinner, our cabin attendant has converted our cabin into a bedroom and prepared our beds for us. There is literally almost no space to even stand in the cabin with the sliding door closed. The entire cabin is the size of the single bottom bunk.

One at a time, each of us vacates the room while the other pulls out their carry-on bag to dig out and change into sleeping clothes and gather toiletries for our evening ablutions in the restrooms a few doors down. 

Full-on acrobatics are required to climb into my upper bunk in the roomette, which has all of two feet of clearance to the ceiling. I am in the best shape of my life, and I have absolutely no idea how less able-bodied people manage to get in and out of these bunks. 

“It’s hot as balls down here,” Matt calls up from his bottom bunk. “How is it up there?” The air vent on the ceiling is blasting arctic air two feet away from my face. “Cold as shit.” 

We both burst into uncontrollable laughter, before falling asleep to the canter of the train much quicker than either of us had anticipated would be possible. 

Day 2: Minot North Dakota to Somewhere-In-Washington

The on-board (read: in-cabin) announcements begin with the opening of the dining car for breakfast at 6:30am, so we end up paying for our late-night escapades with our new friends in the dining car last night. Luckily, I am pleasantly surprised at the quality of sleep I get for the majority of the night; it has been a few years since I’ve slept on a train, and I’ve forgotten how the roll and canter of the train can lull me into deep sleep, as it does on this night. 

Again Matt and I are among the last to sit down to breakfast, which is great because after all the other diners have left, he embarks on another round of espresso-making that both amuses and baffles the staff on train who are now sitting at tables around us, eating and taking breaks. 

I have a habit of getting to know staff on trains. In my experience the vast majority of people who work on trains enjoy it; it’s a lifestyle more than a job, and one that requires you to be away (on trains) for days at a time. So although an inherent love of trains is not a prerequisite, it certainly helps. 

Likewise, it doesn’t generally take long for a staff member on-board to figure out that I’m not on the train to get to a destination so much as to enjoy the train as the destination. I love to chat with them and I take an active interest in what they do on board, how they came to work on trains, and more. With this camaraderie, I generally get on a first-name basis with various staff quickly, and I tend to get perks such as occasional upgrades (I’ve already been alerted by one of my new staff-buddies that if there is a no-show tonight by a passenger who has booked a bedroom that the room will be ours) and the ability to hang out in the dining car long past meal-time. They don’t mind my presence while they tend to their work, and I appreciate theirs. It works out well for everybody. 

“Be in the observation car by 6pm. That’s when it gets really good,” my staff-buddy tells me in the morning. Thus far in our train journey the scenery hasn’t exactly been spectacular. I haven’t minded so much; I enjoy softening my gaze out the window and allowing the passing landscape to wash over me. Yesterday I enjoyed the greens and browns of farmland and rolling terrain as a backdrop to sipping espresso with Matt while chatting about life and business, speaking randomly with fellow passengers, and tapping away on my laptop, recording various musings such as you’re currently reading. 

But my train-friend isn’t wrong about the shift in scenery. By 6pm we are in Glacier National Park, and the observation car (with large picture windows and a glass domed roof) is the place to be. After a full day of prairies and shallow rolling terrain, a wall of mountains appears out of nowhere, and suddenly we are snaking around (and even through) mountains, across valleys, and over rivers. We eat dinner while watching a magical sun set over layers and layers of mountains shaded in pink and purple that fade off into the distance. 

It’s a good thing the scenery is fantastic over dinner because the company is a bust. We are seated across from a couple for whom conversation is not a forte. The body language of the woman (who tries as best she can to dissolve into the corner of her seat) is signal enough to me that these introverts would rather have dined alone, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option given the number of people in the dining car. So Matt and I quietly chat amongst ourselves and take in the passing scenery, which isn’t such a hardship since it’s part of the reason we are on the train to begin with. 

By our second night in the tiny roomette, we are better equipped with a system to manage the game of anatomical Tetris required to get ready for and into bed. I perform my acrobatics to climb into the top bunk and only hit my head on the ceiling three times. 

Again surprisingly, I fall asleep quickly and rest very well. 

Empire Builder Day 3: Arriving to Seattle

Breakfast is served from 5:30 to 7am, which means we don’t eat breakfast. But that’s okay, because by 10am we are pulling into Seattle (30 minutes ahead of schedule – a minor miracle given that we were 90 minutes behind schedule a few hours prior). And given Seattle’s reputation for coffee, it’s no hardship to go in search of coffee and breakfast on arrival. 

After settling into the hotel (thanks to my Marriott Gold Elite Status they don’t flinch at an 11am check-in and late check-out the next day), our 28 or so hours in Seattle are filled with market lunches, seaside strolls, work-sessions in coffee shops fuelled with incredible espresso, and dinner at a wine bar where we sample flights of wine from Washington State. 

In Part 3 of this Adventures With Amtrak series, we head down the west coast of the United States (in a slightly different way than intended), before boarding the Sunset Limited to New Orleans. Check it out! 

And if you missed Part 1, you can read it here and learn how we dreamt up this crazy trip around the U.S. by train: Adventures With Amtrak: The Big Idea.

Some Other Train Adventures For You to Enjoy:
India’s Deccan Odyssey from Jaipur to Mumbai
The Indian Pacific Across Australia (and Back)
Taking The Canadian from Toronto to Vancouver (sort of)
The Ghan from Darwin to Adelaide in Australia
The Ultimate Train Challenge from Lisbon to Saigon (25,000 kms in 30 days) 

This post Amtrak Adventures, Part 2: The Empire Builder appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

The months roll on and on. I’m in a groove so deep I actually worry about how I’ll learn to break my iron-clad daily routine when this pandemic lockdown finally lifts. I’m so grateful I had a home base to return to when COVID-19 reared its ugly head back in early 2020; I’d simply never intended that this base would become a prison of sorts for a year and a half. Surviving the world’s longest lockdown in Toronto has taken a huge toll. 

I’m not alone in this, so I’ll spare you the sob story. The pandemic has changed everybody, in subtle to grandiose ways. And somewhere around June of 2021, I hit a wall. At the same time my number finally comes up in Canada to get vaccinated; an act which simultaneously breaks down the wall as I’m hitting it. 

I’m chatting online with Matt, a digital nomad friend of mine and fellow train travel enthusiast. 

“I’m getting my second vax tomorrow. I’ll be in the States in two weeks,” I start off in a text thread. “I’m going to visit a friend in Florida, but before that, what do you say to a wee U.S. travel adventure?” 

“What about that rail pass?” he responds. 

The month prior Amtrak had come out with a 30-day rail pass at a great price and we had bantered about it in a daydreamy way. I call up the article and dig a little deeper. 

“The offer just expired, and besides, it’s for economy travel only. That’s not how I like to do long-distance train travel. It’s all about sleeper class.” I reply. 

So he sends me another article; this one a collection of the most scenic long-distance train rides in the United States. In the article is a collection of long-distance routes offered by Amtrak. I scour the article and pick out some favourites. 

“Any of these three would be good,” I reply. 

“Great. Let’s do all three,” Matt responds with a proposed itinerary that connects all three routes. 

I blink at my phone as I read the message a few times over. 

“I was just thinking about doing one of those routes.”

“C’mon. You’re The Professional Hobo! Considering the train journeys you’ve done, this is totally on brand! I can’t believe I’m telling you to do all three!”

He’s not wrong. I kicked off my full-time travels in early 2007 by taking the train from Toronto to Prince Rupert (in British Columbia), eventually circling back to Edmonton via Vancouver. 

Three years later in 2010, I got my hands on a rail pass in Australia and rode every possible train they had including their signature long-distance routes: The Ghan and the Indian Pacific; the latter of which I combined with another overnight train ride and rode one way then immediately back the other way (all in all covering 11,000 kilometres in 11 days straight, all to see if it’s possible to get bored on a train. I wrote a book about it instead, so suffice it to say boredom eluded me). 

And the very next year, I did the Ultimate Train Challenge: a train travel stunt dreamed up and embarked on by me and two full-time travel colleagues, It involved traveling from Lisbon to Saigon (a total of 25,000 kilometres) in 30 days, all by train. 

If all that weren’t enough, in 2017 I experienced the world’s most luxurious train: The Deccan Odyssey in India. 

Matt has called me on my own game, and now I can’t back down. We must do all three of these long-distance train rides around the United States. And so it is. 

Adventures With Amtrak: The Grand Plan

Within 24 hours, Matt and I have constructed an ambitious itinerary. We will meet in Chicago, and a few days later we’ll board the Empire Builder train from Chicago to Seattle (46 hours and about 2,200 miles). 

After a day or so in Seattle, we will hop down to Portland (3.5 hours and 200 miles), where we’ll spend a few days. 

Then we’ll board the Coast Starlight from Portland to Los Angeles (35 hours and 800 miles), where we’ll spend another few days. 

Last up, we will take the Sunset Limited from Los Angeles to New Orleans (53 hours and 2,000 miles), where we’ll spend a week. 

All in all, over 5,200 miles and almost 140 hours on trains. 

Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty “on brand” for me. 

“But….It’s Amtrak.”

“You know Amtrak isn’t like European trains, right?”

“I’ve been on the Empire Builder. It’s cool. But the rest, sounds kinda…’Amtrak-y’.”

“How many hours? On a train?!”

Skepticism abounds from friends and colleagues. I know it’s Amtrak. And I know the Amtrak skeptics are referring to. 

I grew up taking Amtrak commuter trains back and forth between Toronto Canada and Albany NY every summer (400 miles and about 10 hours, with a lengthy border stop) to visit my grandparents. While somebody who wants to get somewhere expediently may not have enjoyed the experience, it actually planted the seed for my lifelong love of trains. I adored those train trips; walking up and down the train while it jostled from side to side, napping peacefully with the canter of the train, looking out the window at the ever-changing scenery, and playing cards with my mum in the lounge car. Trains for me became synonymous with summer vacation, freedom, and adventure. 

Many years later this seedling of inspiration would propel me to experience some of the world’s most epic train rides, but the United States remained largely undiscovered from a railway perspective. 

And I am completely undeterred by people’s lack of confidence in Amtrak. Because what most people don’t know about Amtrak is that when you book a long-distance trip in sleeper-class, it is a totally different experience. Not only do you have a private cabin with seats that convert to beds at night, but you also have access to a special sleeper-class-only dining car that provides three meals a day, with dinner involving linen table service, three courses, and even a glass of wine (or beer). 

This ain’t no commuter train experience. 

Oh Yeah, By the Way…

At this stage it’s relevant to note that Matt and I have never met in person. We have conversed online through messaging and emails, been on one another’s podcast shows, and had social video calls over glasses of red wine. Like many friendships of the digital nomad persuasion, the fact that we haven’t actually met in person is somewhat incidental. 

And yet. 

“Are you crazy??” my friend in Toronto says (and she is one of a few who offer similar objections). “What if you two don’t get along? You’re going to be stuck on trains and in hotels with him for a whole month!”

I shrug. “It’ll be fine. We are both super-experienced lifestyle travelers, and we’re accustomed to traveling in close quarters with other people. I did the Ultimate Train Challenge with two people I’d never met in person before and that went fine…” I respond. 

“I guess you can just get off at the next stop if it comes to that,” says one friend, creating a mental escape route in her predictions of a possible blowout. 

“The hell I will!” I say. “I’ve spent a small fortune on this trip. I’ll be damned if I don’t see it through! Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I know we can do this.” 

Secretly I’m wondering if we can. 

Check out Part 2 of my Adventures With Amtrak – The Empire Builder! 

This post Adventures With Amtrak, Part 1: The Big Idea appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

“I’m speaking at the Travel Blog Exchange conference, then I’m doing a Montana road trip.”

“Why on earth would they have a travel conference in Montana?” came the reply. 

Referred to (un)affectionately as a “flyover state”, Montana isn’t particularly known for being a destination in its own right. So imagine my surprise, after a little over a week of covering off the best things to do in Yellowstone Country (a large area but ultimately a small chunk of the south part of the state), when a wee inner voice uttered four words I never ever thought Montana could inspire: “I could live here.” 

This post was originally published in 2019. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

It All Starts in Billings.

Actually, it doesn’t all start in Billings. (It’s just where I started). 

Billings was where the conference was held, partly because it is Montana’s largest city. Now don’t get all impressed by that fact; the gigantic state of Montana (which is larger than the entire country of Germany) has one million people; Billings makes up less than 150,000 of that. 

So the first two things I learned about Montana, are that there’s a lot of empty space, and pretty much everywhere you go (even it’s biggest city), it feels like a small town. While hardcore urbanites might cringe at that idea, I found it charming and full of character. 

And I certainly met a few characters in Montana. 

Red Lodge, Montana

Gwen sat down at our lunch table in Red Lodge Montana and started talking to us like we were continuing a conversation we’d started a few minutes earlier. Only thing is, we had no idea who she was. 

That was soon rectified. 

Exemplifying the spirit of Red Lodge (a small town at the entrance to the Beartooth Scenic Highway – cited as the most scenic drive in the U.S.), Gwen took us on a literal and metaphorical journey through Red Lodge that left our group in awe of this tiny town with a huge heart. 

“Red Lodge’s population is exactly 2,222 people. We like that number. So when a baby is born, the old people get real nervous,” was Gwen’s opening line. 

“Around here, we say it’s officially winter when the snow is still in Martha’s yard after 10am,” she continued in her running monologue. Right after that happens, the town gathers (in Martha’s yard) to celebrate “the Last Sundae of Summer”; people bring sundae toppings and fix themselves up a sundae using the fresh snow in lieu of ice cream. 

By this point, our small group was in love with Gwen – and by extension, Red Lodge. And they both continued to deliver. 

Wildlife in Red Lodge Montana

You want wildlife? You got it. In fact, the school teachers in Red Lodge are required to carry bear spray at all times. While the bears don’t tend to come into the school buildings, they have been known to hang out in the yard. 

And this isn’t limited to Red Lodge; a few days before I arrived in Big Sky Montana, a bear cub made its way into a restaurant bathroom. And while I was in Montana’s urban hub of Billings, a mountain lion was reportedly on the loose in town. 

Montana is a wild place, as I would soon discover for myself.

Red Lodge’s proximity to the mountains makes it extra exciting. “We have two bears that hang around our property,” started Gwen. “I named them both of course. Bebe The Bad Bear is the most annoying. She licks the windows all the time.”

“What? A wild bear licks the windows? Of your house?” I replied, incredulous. 

“Yep.” 

“While you’re in the house?”

“Yep.” 

“So, you actually see her as she does this?”

“Of course not! I’m watching tv. My husband thinks Bebe licks the windows cuz she doesn’t like what I’m watching.” 

From that moment on, my colleagues and I were extra careful to look left and right before crossing the road in Red Lodge, and we weren’t looking for cars. 

Small Town Hospitality

While some people cringe at the idea of living in a small town, others find it idyllic. If you like the anonymity of a city, you might be challenged, given the inherent family dynamic. 

There are no chain establishments in Red Lodge, and it’s a badge of pride. “The only way for a town like ours to survive is to shop locally,” said Gwen, while admitting that people will get together to do necessary regular runs into Billings (one hour away) for supplies. 

Trips to Billings are also necessary for more sophisticated medical care. When Gwen had cancer, a sign was posted at the local Chamber of Commerce asking for volunteers to drive her to and from her chemo/radiation treatments. Every single day, a different person arrived to pick her up! The outpouring of local support surprised even Gwen. 

Skiing in Red Lodge (and Yellowstone Country Montana)

While Red Lodge got its start in the 1800’s as a coal mining town, it’s now known primarily for two things; being the starting point for the Beartooth Highway (more on that in a minute), and also for being one of the best-kept secrets when it comes to skiing. Red Lodge Mountain is on the eastern front of the Beartooth Mountain Range (Montana’s tallest mountain range), and it offers everything you could possibly expect from a ski resort – except the crowds. 

In fact, the same can be said for the three big ski resorts in Yellowstone Country Montana – the other two being Bridger Bowl near Bozeman (arguably the busiest, yet still devoid of lift lines), and Big Sky, which is a year-round playground resort town offering an obscene amount of outdoorsy activities. Montana’s winter tag line is “world-class skiing, without the world.” (Click here to learn more about Skiing in Montana, and other winter activities).

Beartooth Pass 

Beartooth Pass (also referred to as Beartooth Highway Montana) is the most scenic drive in the U.S.; but sadly, I couldn’t tell – this September day saw low-lying clouds, cool temperatures, and rain. 

Later the same day, the highway was closed entirely due to snow. In fact, Beartooth Scenic Highway is only open from May to October; the rest of the time it’s generally buried in obscene amounts of snow. Gwen showed us a picture of a local road near Beartooth Pass that is plowed; we were aghast to see a literal wall of snow well over 20 feet high. 

But when the timing is right, it’s magical, on four wheels or two; the American Motorcyclist Association named the Beartooth Highway the #1 motorcycle ride in the United States! 

Visiting Yellowstone Country – Planning a Trip to Yellowstone

My journey through Montana was specifically focused on visiting Yellowstone Country, which is about sooooo much more than Yellowstone National Park. In fact, most of the national park itself is in Wyoming, with only a sliver in Montana and another sliver in Idaho. 

That said, Montana is home to three of the five entrances to Yellowstone National Park, so if you’re planning a trip to Yellowstone, Montana will likely be a part of your Yellowstone itinerary. 

The north entrance (at the adorable town of Gardiner Montana) is the only one open to road traffic year-round. During the winter, you can access the park using the other entrances on snowmobile, snow-coach, skiing, and snowshoeing. Betcha didn’t know you could explore Yellowstone in the winter, huh? Well, it’s a winter wonderland; even I (one who detests winter and has done a good job of avoiding it for the last 13 years) am intrigued to return to Yellowstone Country when the snow flies. 

My visit to Red Lodge and the Beartooth Scenic Highway was an easy day-trip with colleagues from Billings before the conference began. After the conference (I killed it by the way – hire me to speak at your next event and you won’t be disappointed), myself and a colleague (Meagan) went on a road trip for the next five days, courtesy of Yellowstone Country Montana, and led by Colin whose wry sense of humour and love of Montana shone through his quiet demeanour. Disclosure: the trip was complimentary, but I was not compensated nor encouraged to write anything specific. All opinions are my own. 

Back to the story of Montana. 

Yellowstone National Park (What to do on a Yellowstone Vacation)

While my trip was focused on Montana, it simply wouldn’t be complete without a visit to Yellowstone National Park (which straddles both Montana and Wyoming). With only half a day, we had to pick and choose what to see. Old Faithful was of course a must (being somewhat iconic, as well as dependable with eruptions approximately every 90 minutes), but in reality it paled in comparison to some of the other sites, which were unassumingly magnificent. 

Norris Geyser Basin (not to be confused with Norris Hot Springs, which is in another part of Montana – where you’ll find lots of natural hot springs on the whole) had various easy looping trails that took us by sulphur springs of impossibly blue hues and steaming pits resembling alien landscapes. 

Mammoth Hot Springs Terraces was another brilliant stop, and it is constantly changing and evolving. Both Colin and Meagan had visited this spot at different times a few years ago, and said it was comparatively unrecognizable. 

But the truth is you can’t really go wrong in Yellowstone National Park. Its 3,400 square miles encompasses 1,000 miles of trails, 10,000 hydrothermal features, 290 waterfalls, 500 geysers (300 of which are active), and more. 

And the wildlife? Off the charts. In one afternoon of driving around the park, we saw elk, bison, tons of large birds, a bear, and even a wolf. (Click here for Yellowstone National Park info)

West Yellowstone and Big Sky Montana

The next few days were spent bouncing around in and between West Yellowstone (the western gateway to Yellowstone National Park and the town closest to Old Faithful) and Big Sky. Both towns are almost entirely in existence for tourists; West Yellowstone as the gateway to its namesake park, and Big Sky as a world-class ski resort. 

But there’s so much more to do in the area than ski and visit Yellowstone National Park. Big Sky Resort is a summer playground for mountain bikers, climbers, hikers, and more. The Gallatin River Montana, which the road between Big Sky and West Yellowstone follows (the same road that goes from Bozeman Montana to Yellowstone), is home to rafting, zip-lining, kayaking, horseback riding, and last but far from least, fly fishing. 

Fly Fishing – One of the Best Things to Do in Montana

Fishing isn’t really my jam. When I told my mother that fly fishing had been put on my Yellowstone trip itinerary but I didn’t really want to go, she railed. “You have to go! That’s one of the best things to do in Montana! Haven’t you seen A River Runs Through It?! It’s iconic!” She proceeded to regale me with a bevy of reasons why I’d be remiss not to go. 

I’m glad she did, because while I realized that I’m generally useless at catching fish (Meagan caught 15 fish for my 1), fly fishing allowed me to embrace Montana in a special way. 

In Yellowstone Country alone, there are over 1,000 miles of shoreline to fish, including nine blue ribbon trout streams (which is a very big deal in fish-speak). Throw a stone (or a line?) and you’ll likely hit a fly fishing outfitter, and for good reason. As long as your name is not Nora, you’ll be catching lots of fish (all of which are released when fly fishing with a guide, to preserve and protect fish populations). 

Despite my paltry take, I enjoyed getting out into nature, standing in a river (who knew the current was so strong!), and enjoying some epic Montana scenery. Fly fishing is truly is part of the territory when visiting this part of Montana. (Click here for Montana fishing info)

Bozeman Montana

Bozeman and Missoula are both university towns, and as such are the most liberal cities in Montana (which on the whole is a pretty conservative state). Both have also been cited in the top 10 on various lists of best places to live in the United States. Locals even call it Boz Angeles, in reference to the huge influx of Californians and celebrities relocating or setting up holiday homes in the area. And after spending a few days in Bozeman, I can see why they would. 

Sitting in a coffee shop (one of my favourite things to do when getting a feel for a place), I saw lots of people in their 20s and 30s. Apparently lots of students who come to study at Montana State University just never leave. 

It’s a casual place; during my three days in the Bozeman area, I didn’t see one single person wearing a suit, though I’m sure such people exist. I did, however see more checkered flannel shirts than I’d ever seen in one place. I asked Colin if there was a checkered flannel shirt convention happening; he replied in defence of the practicality of flannel shirts (he owns five himself), before informing me that it’s part of Pacific Northwest men’s fashion sense. (My bad; my travel lifestyle renders my fashion sense far from current). 

With flannel shirts the norm in Montana, the choice remaining for men is baseball cap or cowboy hat. Bozeman is home to more baseball caps, while other areas of the state are cowboy hats all the way.

In addition to being so very liveable, Bozeman is one of the best airports to fly into as part of your Yellowstone trip itinerary; you can rent a car there and take the leisurely drive from Bozeman Montana to Yellowstone. While West Yellowstone airport is the closest to the park, Bozeman airport has a much better selection of flights, and the drive down the Gallatin Gateway through Big Sky is pretty epic. 

The Culture of Climbing in Bozeman

Deciding to do as the locals do on rainy morning, I hit up a climbing gym. Spire Climbing Center is one of two climbing gyms in town, and another one is being built (considering a population of about 50,000 people, this indicates a disproportionate number of Bozeman residents are climbers). It’s a big gym with a ton of facilities, and on a Tuesday morning it was surprisingly full. 

“Actually, it’s kind of dead right now,” said a staff member when I remarked at how busy it was for a weekday morning. “It’s weather dependent; if it’s raining out, it’s crazy in here. If it’s nice, people are out climbing.” 

Whether it’s ice climbing or rock climbing, it’s evident that people like to get out – or rather, up. And with six different mountain ranges surrounding Bozeman, you’re spoiled for choice. (Click here for more info on rock climbing in Yellowstone Country)

Skiing in Bozeman

With the Bridger Bowl world-class ski resort 20 minutes away from Bozeman, you’d be daft not to ski. Bridger Bowl was named one of the world’s top 25 ski towns by National Geographic Traveler. The snow is called “Cold Smoke” in honour of its light dry powder. 

But that’s not all; just a wee bit further out is Big Sky, which is twice the size. If I lived in Montana (and believe me, I envisioned myself living there more than once during my trip), I’d be skiing all the time. 

Planning a Trip to Yellowstone Country – The Best Way to Visit Yellowstone 

Far and away, I recommend a road trip as the best way to visit Montana’s Yellowstone Country, and Montana in general. It’s a large state, the scenery is gorgeous, and there are so many opportunities to pull to the side of the road for anything from a photo to a picnic to a vast collection of outdoor activities. 

Montana has 50 State Parks, many of which are devoid of any pomp and circumstance. Take Madison Buffalo Jump State Park as an example; this is a site of great historical significance, and you’d barely notice it if you weren’t looking for it. There’s only a small parking lot, an information board, and an honour-system donation box for the state park admission fee. 

Depending on the kinds of activities you like to do, you could do a themed road trip. The Montana Brewery Trail is a prime and popular example. Montana is home to a vast number of craft breweries, and the selection and quality of beers is really good. 

What’s the Best Time of Year to Visit Yellowstone Country?

Trick question! There is no best time of year. There’s something to do at any time of year, and while you might assume that summer is where it’s at (as I did), in fact, the world is catching on that Yellowstone Country is an amazing winter destination as well. 

Winter activities include dog sledding, snowshoeing, ice climbing, sleigh rides, hot springs, snow coach tours, and world-class skiing – without the world. 

So, pick your season, and go to Montana. Maybe you’ll never return. You wouldn’t be the first. 

Planning a Trip to Montana? Check out these Resources:

Sort out Your Cell Phone Plan Before you Go

Get 50% off Your Flights with Travel Mystery Shopping

Packing? A Travel Capsule Wardrobe will save you space

Can’t Decide Between Checked or Carry-On Luggage? This post will help

This post Best Things to Do in Yellowstone Country Montana appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2019. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

For some reason I thought 2018 had been more sedentary than it was; I couldn’t possibly have visited six countries – including six different locations in one of the countries and two in another, in a sense visiting over 11 different places.

Thank goodness I do these annual summaries of where I’ve been; I’d be lost (literally!) without them!

Please enjoy this summary of the places I visited in 2018 along with the adventures (and mis-adventures!) I got up to. Previous annual summaries can be found at the end of this article.

2018 in Summary

14 planes, two ferries, and countless buses and taxis shuttled me between six different countries in 2018. While none of the countries were new to me on the whole, I discovered some new haunts. The biggest surprise of the year (a surprise to me as much as anybody else) was that I set up a home base in my home town of Toronto.

And still, I traveled over 51,148 kilometers (31,782 miles), which puts 2018 in 4^th place for biggest distances traveled in the last 12 years, while remaining on the lower end of country counts for me. (Good thing I don’t actually care about ticking off countries for the sake of ticking them off)!

Here’s how 2018 rolled:

JANUARY: Chiang Mai (Thailand)

I rang in the new year in my cozy apartment in Chiang Mai Thailand where I had been since late November 2017.

While it was my second visit to Chiang Mai (the first being in 2008), it was almost unrecognizable from my previous visit. This was due in part to my staying in another part of town which had (since 2008) blossomed into “the digital nomad centre of the universe”. During my first visit, the term “digital nomad” hadn’t even yet been coined.

Chiang Mai, 10 Years Later: The Impossible Search

How to Find an Apartment in Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai’s Nimman: The Unapologetic Bubble

FEBRUARY: Hoi An (Vietnam)

My first trip to Vietnam was in 2011 as the final stage of completing the Ultimate Train Challenge which was a crazy mission involving 30 days of trains from Lisbon to Saigon. I fell in love with the food and the people, and vowed to return.

So in 2018, inspired by some verbal and written accounts of Hoi An’s beauty and friendliness towards digital nomads, the hop/skip/jump was made from Thailand.

In the areas of food and friendliness, I wasn’t disappointed with my return visit. Despite my complete inability to communicate with the locals, I felt an uncommonly friendly vibe and enjoyed miming with a few of the “market ladies” from whom I regularly bought my produce.

February 2018 also coincided with the Vietnamese New Year, which was a mixed blessing. The upshot was an invitation from my landlord to a family feast that was one of those “victories” for travelers (well at least, for me) in participating in an inherently local festivity. While the evening required extensive use of Google Translate (one of my go-to smartphone apps), it was one where I felt an almost unprecedented level of warmth and welcome from a local family.

The bad news for the month was the weather, which involved solid cloud cover and periodic rain for the entire month. I didn’t realize how badly the lack of sunshine was affecting me until one day it came out and my disposition changed entirely. Unfortunately by that point, I’d already made onward travel plans since I’d lost the will to live.

6 Weeks in Hoi An, Vietnam

Expat Life in Hoi An

MARCH: Koh Phangan (Thailand)

Since my visit to India in late 2017, I had been wrestling with a host of physical and emotional challenges that, by this time, had bled me dry. So visiting the southern Thai island of Koh Phangan was in part a sun-seeking experience, and in part a chance to participate in an intensive detox retreat which I hoped would be a way to hit “reset” on my body (and spirit) and clear it of the variety of ailments it was suffering from.

All I can say is I hope to return to Koh Phangan one day and not do a detox retreat. While I’m sure it was beneficial on the whole, it was a slugfest the entire way, and an exercise in irony and deprivation on this idyllic (even hedonistic) island.

All Life is Suffering: A Month in Koh Phangan, Thailand – incidentally one of my favourite and more entertaining pieces of writing

APRIL: Melbourne (Australia)

This detour Down Under may come as a surprise to some readers, as I never wrote about it. It was “part two” in my attempt to recover from the physical and emotional effects of what I (by this time) realized was a severe case of burnout.

Long-time readers will know that I spent 1.5 years living outside of Melbourne Australia back in 2008/09, and in that time I criss-crossed the country a few times (by campervan and then by train), survived their worst-ever natural disaster, had my first breakup on the road, and other adventures.

During that first stint I befriended a couple with whom I stayed in touch over the years, and who (knowing of my burnout) invited me to stay with them as a personalized healing retreat of sorts.

While I didn’t know this couple very well, the invitation was serendipitous, and I immediately booked a ticket. It was one of the best decisions I made, as their loving care and regular healing treatments in their clinic was instrumental – if not life-changing – for me.

It gave me the rest I sorely needed after almost 10 months of bouncing around just as many Asian countries, recovery from a variety of physical ailments, and strength to start pursuing some business and personal projects over the course of the rest of the year.

Somewhere in all this recovery, I started reflecting on what I’d learned in the last 12 years of travel. Here it is: one lesson for each year on the road: 12 Truths About Travel – and Life

MAY: NYC (USA), Toronto (Canada), London (England)

My frequent flyer mile prowess allowed me to fly from Melbourne to New York in business class for a grand total of about $600. NYC was a glorified layover enroute to my hometown of Toronto, where I planned to spend the summer.

But not before a bit more traipsing! After dropping my checked luggage in Toronto, I packed a wee bag and hopped on a flight to London for a couple of weeks of staying with some friends who had just bought a lovely house.

It rained. A lot.

JUNE: Hollywood FL (USA), Toronto (Canada)

I’m no stranger to Hollywood (in South Florida), where a dear friend of mine lives and where I have a home base of sorts. So while it’s certainly out-of-the-way between London and Toronto, I detoured anyway to visit for a couple of weeks.

JULY-OCTOBER: Toronto (Canada)

I love summers in Toronto, and the summer of 2018 was a glorious one by all accounts. Even locals (who are renowned for their weather-driven running commentary) had little to gripe about.

What was surprising was how a simple plan to spend a couple of months there evolved into getting an apartment and setting up a home base. While I never thought I would live in Toronto again, it clicked for me on a variety of levels, and I’m pleased to have made the decision.

My Epic Search for a Home Base

NOVEMBER: San Diego, Desert Hot Springs, LA, Palmdale CA (USA)

While I would have liked more time to enjoy my new place in Toronto, I have this thing about winter: I don’t do it. I grew up with it, and I loathe it. I spent the last 12 years hemisphere-hopping to avoid it, and my cozy apartment wasn’t about to sway me from maintaining my record.

So, coincidentally (or not), on the day the temperatures plummeted and it started to snow in Toronto in early November, I boarded a plane for San Diego to visit a friend. We did a wee road trip to Desert Hot Springs and Joshua Tree – which was my first taste of the American desert.

From San Diego, I bussed up to Palmdale (near LA) to visit with my boyfriend’s family; included was a little trip into LA to film a video and do a bit of sightseeing.

DECEMBER: Hollywood FL (USA) (again)

Can’t see the picture? Click here to watch this video on YouTube.

One of the reasons why Hollywood has been a frequently-visited base for me over the years is because of its proximity to Central and South America where I’ve spent the majority my time since 2014. (Well, that, and my friend there is super-cool and I have my own room at her house).

So while my visit to Hollywood in June was a detour between London and Toronto, my visit in December was perfectly enroute to Guatemala (!), where I’ll be spending the first quarter of 2019.

Summary Notes: Progress! 

In the summary of my 2017 annual travel report, I wrote the following:

It’s like every single aspect of my life has been thrown up in the air (lifestyle, location, health, relationships, career, etc), and I’m watching all the pieces float around and am waiting to see where they land. It’s simultaneously exciting and agonizing. 

If 2017 was my unraveling, then 2018 was my year for putting everything back together again (well, with a bit more unraveling for good measure in the first quarter or so of the year – as was evidenced in Koh Phangan).

In addition to my personal recovery, you’ll read soon in my annual income report for 2018 that my online business also underwent a significant overhaul and recovery process.

It was a year for many big changes, both personal and professional, not the least of which was setting up a new home base in my home town. After a dozen years of exploring expat life in a many different places, I’m enjoying the close proximity of family and friends when I’m in town (which, in the coming years, I expect will be a little over half of each year).

I own a couch now! And desk, and a bed, and a tv. And I have Canadian health care again! Most importantly, I have a place to return to after every trip, to unpack, unwind, and assimilate my experiences. Already, my travels feel lighter – literally and figuratively.

Looking into my magic crystal ball, I would say that 2019 will be a year for more transitions and transformations. I’m just not sure how yet. Let’s see! It’s far from the end of the trail for me…..rather, it’s the start of a new one.

Prior Travel Summaries

My First Four Years of Full-Time Travel (2007-2010, including Canada, Hawaii, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, USA, Mexico, New Zealand, Spain, Germany, France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Nepal)

What I did in 2011 (13 countries, 73,000 kms, including New Zealand, Canada, USA, Sweden, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Russia, China, Vietnam, Grenada)

What I did in 2012 (8 countries and 20,000 miles, including Grenada, St. Martin, BVIs, USA, Switzerland, France, England, Canada)

What I did in 2013 (12 countries and 29,000 miles, including Grenada, USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Ukraine, France, Panama)

What I did in 2014 (7 countries and 34,000 miles, including Panama, USA, Canada, Peru, Spain, Gibraltar, Italy)

What I did in 2015 (6 countries and 35,000 miles, including Peru, Colombia, USA, Costa Rica, Canada, Bolivia)

What I did in 2016 (5 countries and 30,000 miles, including Peru, USA, Canada, Ireland, and Ecuador)

What I did in 2017 (10 countries and 29,000 miles, including USA, Ecuador, Canada, Japan, Indonesia, Hong Kong, Macau, Sri Lanka, India, and Thailand)

This post 2018: 6 Countries, 32k Miles, And Some BIG Changes appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

With 10 countries and 29,254 miles traversed, 2017 was my most active year of travel since 2013, although interestingly my mileage count for the year seemed low given the number of flights I took (19 in total). At the end of this post you can see summaries of previous years’ adventures and how they measure up. But 29,000 or so miles is nothing to sneeze at; in some ways this last year feels like it was much longer than a year. Here’s why, and what I did in 2017:

This post was originally published in 2018. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

JANUARY: Florida, Ecuador

I started off 2017 in Florida at my (kind of) home base in Hollywood where I had spent a chunk of time in 2016. By mid-January, it was time to make a move, and that move was to the mountains outside of Cuenca Ecuador to live at Gaia Sagrada retreat centre; a place I discovered in late 2016 and to where I was returning.

FEB-MAY: Ecuador

The next four months were spent at Gaia Sagrada, where I assisted the manager in trade for a break on accommodation expenses, and informally continued my studies of ayahuasca and san pedro shamanism. It was an intense and all-encompassing position that required a lot of my energy through every two-week retreat.

So I didn’t spend much time “discovering” Ecuador, nor doing much work on my online business, which had been somewhat stagnant since I took to doing “shaman things” in Peru in late 2014.

But I did get around Ecuador a tiny bit during the five day breaks between retreats at the retreat centre. I visited Banos in the north, which is the adventure capital of Ecuador, and where I (sort of) bought a hotel for $29. I also visited Vilcabamba in the south; a popular “hippie town” with an interesting vibe that compares to my former home of Pisac Peru.

But the time soon came (inspired by an expiring Ecuadorian visa) for me to move on. By the end of May I was on a plane. Doors have been left open in Ecuador (and at Gaia Sagrada) for me to return, but to this day I’m not sure if it’s in the cards.

JUNE: Florida, (Toronto), Japan

The beauty of my (kind of) home base in Hollywood Florida at my friend’s house is that it’s a great jumping-off/landing point when traveling to/from South America. So after a couple of weeks of decompressing in Hollywood, I said sayonara to my boyfriend (with whom I’d been together since my arrival in Ecuador in 2016) who was jetting off to the west coast to earn some money while I jetted off to Tokyo (with a lightning fast layover in my hometown of Toronto ) for a house-sitting gig.

My arrival in Japan was an exercise in me proverbially coming up for air and taking stock of my online business, which had been relatively stagnant after three years of sitting on Andean mountaintops “doing shaman things”. What I saw wasn’t pretty.

JULY: Japan

Among other increased business activities such as redesigning my website and taking social media to a new level, I breathed new life into my dormant YouTube channel and started producing weekly travel vlogs. Tokyo was a perfect place to do it; it was eye candy for the camera and cocaine for the brain. Selected highlights included almost dying on Mount Takao, going to the Greatest Show in the History of Entertainment, and then having the wool pulled off my eyes in Akihabara.

I started to intellectually fall out of love with Japan after Akihabara, as I pontificated in my post Why I Could Never Life in Japan. But after almost two months in total in Japan, I managed to pull it all together with this (slightly more balanced) post.

AUGUST: Japan, Indonesia

I realized that in over 10 years of wandering the world, I almost never went somewhere without having my accommodation sorted out (and usually free accommodation at that). Bali was the first time I’d gone somewhere without having any innate connections, specific opportunities, or accommodation lined up.

But I went anyway, and it was fantastic. I hung with the monkeys, negotiated like a pro in the markets, hiked through rice terraces, and learned about the beautiful ceremonial practices of Balinese Hinduism. Oh yeah – and I visited Kuta to see a Balinese healer, which was a total comedy of errors (but the kind that made for a really funny post).

SEPTEMBER: Hong Kong, Macau, Indonesia

Coinciding with the expiration of my 30-day Indonesian visa was an opportunity to go to Macau to speak at a travel conference.

I stayed in Hong Kong for a week (and loved it – most of it), before taking a ferry over to Macau for the conference. The connections I made there paved the way for some opportunities for an upcoming trip to India that I’d booked after finding a mistake air fare.

After my quick sojourn in Hong Kong and Macau, I returned to Bali for what was supposed to be another month. Instead, the active volcano Mount Agung went into high alert, and although I was technically safe in Ubud, reports I’d heard from Ubud’s survivors of Mount Agung’s last eruption in 1963 didn’t make me want to stick around to find out, so I voluntarily evacuated. Turns out I evacuated a couple of months earlier than necessary, but the volcano did indeed start spewing ash which shut down the airport a few times.

I really enjoyed Bali on the whole, and am certainly curious to return….another time.

OCTOBER: Indonesia, Sri Lanka, India

Part of the reason evacuating from Bali was easy for me was because I had friends of friends (of friends) in Jakarta who were kind enough to open up their homes to me. I had no intention of writing about my three weeks in Jakarta which were pretty sedentary, but a few things happened that I found so amusing I simply had to share.

Then it was off to India (via a night in Sri Lanka). India was another destination that I chose without having much of anything organized save for a cheap flight. But after sending off a few emails and making some connections in Macau, my trip started to take shape. It began in Jaipur where I reunited with an old friend and landed in the lap of luxury, which continued on the Deccan Odyssey: the most luxurious train in the world.

NOVEMBER: India, Thailand

Even in the lap of luxury, everything started to go wrong for me, and my month in India (much of which was spent in Rishikesh) became a critical and pinnacle experience for what I suspect is going to be a big transition/transformation (still in progress). I’ll be pontificating more on this idea in 2018, as this is something that is unfurling by the day.

So it was with no small degree of enthusiasm that I left India in mid-late November on a plane bound for Chiang Mai Thailand, where I reunited with my boyfriend after six months apart. We found a sweet little condo to nest in for a wee while.

DECEMBER: Thailand

I’ll be writing a bit more about Chiang Mai in the coming weeks; but I also don’t have very much to write about Chiang Mai on the whole, since I did almost nothing noteworthy (from a travel blogger’s perspective). Instead I enjoyed all the creature comforts of this surprisingly bohemian city, ate amazing food, went to the gym, spent time with my boyfriend, and tended to some increasingly consuming issues of health and wellness (both physical and emotional).

It was an agonizing kind of bliss that capped off 2017 in the strangest of ways.

Summary Notes

For a year that started off in South America with a focus on plant medicine work, I didn’t expect to visit 10 countries; including seven Asian countries – all of which were new to me except for Thailand. Then again, it was a year full of unexpected surprises and new experiences. The easiest way to explain my current state of being is to say that it’s like every single aspect of my life has been thrown up in the air (lifestyle, location, health, relationships, career, etc), and I’m watching all the pieces float around and am waiting to see where they land. It’s simultaneously exciting and agonizing. 2018 is going to be a very interesting year. Stick around….I’m pretty sure it won’t be boring.

10 countries and 29,254 miles…..2017 is another one to go down in my own little history book.

Previous Annual Summaries

My First Four Years of Full-Time Travel (2007-2010, including Canada, Hawaii, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, USA, Mexico, New Zealand, Spain, Germany, France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Nepal)

What I did in 2011 (13 countries, 73,000 kms, including New Zealand, Canada, USA, Sweden, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Russia, China, Vietnam, Grenada)

What I did in 2012 (8 countries and 20,000 miles, including Grenada, St. Martin, BVIs, USA, Switzerland, France, England, Canada)

What I did in 2013 (12 countries and 29,000 miles, including Grenada, USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Ukraine, France, Panama)

What I did in 2014 (7 countries and 34,000 miles, including Panama, USA, Canada, Peru, Spain, Gibraltar, Italy)

What I did in 2015 (6 countries and 35,000 miles, including Peru, Colombia, USA, Costa Rica, Canada, Bolivia)

What I did in 2016 (5 countries and 30,000 miles, including Peru, USA, Canada, Ireland, and Ecuador)

This post 10 Countries and 29,254 Miles: This was 2017! appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2017. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Long before I started traveling full-time, I made a few trips to Hollywood Florida to visit a dear friend. After hitting the road, I passed through the area many times, and in the last year I’ve spent quite a bit of time there; because of my friend and her ferocious hospitality (even in my absence she continues to refer to the spare room as “Nora’s room”, my makeshift office space as “Nora’s office”, and even the mango tree in the backyard is mine), I would even dare to say that Hollywood Florida has become a bit of a home base for me. (The biggest danger to my visits there is that she never wants me to leave, and has threatened to appropriate my passport).

But I’ve never written about Hollywood, because when I go there, it’s usually just to see my friend and be on “vacation” (an odd concept for a full-time traveler). So when I recently spent a week and change there with a friend who had never visited Florida, I found myself playing “tour guide”, and realizing I would be amiss not to tell you more about Hollywood Florida.

Location: In the Middle of it All

If South Florida is on your radar, Hollywood is a cool place to hang out because it’s right between Fort Lauderdale and Miami (which are less than an hour’s drive apart anyway). So in a sense, you can get the best of both worlds in Hollywood Florida without being immersed in either one of them. And it’s easy to get to because you can fly into either Fort Lauderdale or Miami and be a quick drive (or Tri-Rail train ride) away.

By the same token, Hollywood is pretty small; you can cover most of “downtown” on foot in about 30 minutes. I quite like this about Hollywood, but if you’re looking for thriving city-life, you’re not really going to find it there.

It’s All About the Beach

According to Visit Florida, Hollywood Florida’s dominant enticement is the beach, with soft white sand, crystal blue water, and lots of sunbathing space. Fodor has even named it the “Best Beach for Families”. Although the beach is great for swimming at during the whole year (and is especially popular with tourists during the winter months), I believe I’ve further delineated myself as a “local” in that I only like to swim during the hot sticky summer months.

Besides (and beside) the beach, is the Hollywood Broadwalk (no, that’s not a typo); a 2.5 mile beachside wide brick-paved boardwalk that is consistently filled with joggers, cyclists, strollers, roller-bladers, and more. Lining the Broadwalk are lots of places to eat, where you can take in the beach and Broadwalk action from the comfort of your patio chair. Both USA Today and Travel + Leisure have named it among America’s Best Beach Boardwalks.

Downtown Hollywood Florida

But there’s more to Hollywood Florida than the beach. A $1 trolley ride will take you to nearby downtown Hollywood (not to be confused with Hollywood’s business district, which is further inland). Here you’ll find lots of sidewalk cafes, art galleries, interesting boutiques, and dozens of bars and restaurants.

You’ll also find a few dance and yoga studios, which offer all kinds of classes and workshops like yoga, Bollywood, flamenco, fitness, and more. 

Although it’s referred to as Downtown Hollywood, it’s really more of a historic arts and entertainment district, since very little of Hollywood’s “business” is there. On the third Saturday of every month, you can get a feel for the place with the Downtown Hollywood ArtWalk, where many art galleries and businesses participate offering special art exhibits, live painting, refreshments, and more.

ArtsPark

Hollywood Florida’s other main attraction (and staple for locals) is ArtsPark, located in the middle of Young Circle at the end of the “downtown” strip. This 10-acre urban park has paths for walking/jogging, some huge trees, a playground and interactive fountain/splash pad, an amphitheater offering free events, and even a glass-blowing museum.

Every Monday night you can stuff your face at the Food Truck event (OMG the lobster sandwich), and every Friday bring the kids to Funtastic events. You can also check out the daily glass-blowing demonstrations, the monthly Full Moon Drum Circle, and the award-winning ArtsPark Live concert series.

Getting Around, and Other Attractions

My friend lives just a couple of blocks away from the centre of downtown Hollywood Florida, so in my time there, it has been easy to get around on foot, with shops and restaurants and basic groceries a stone’s throw away, and easy access to the beach trolley.

But like many US towns, if you want to see more than that, or if you need to take care of business of any sort, you’ll need wheels.

With a car, you can take tours into the Everglades, or check out the kayaking opportunities along the Intracoastal waterway. You can sign up for boating and fishing adventures, check out Flamingo Gardens, and try your luck at any of the casinos in the area. And of course, with wheels, you’ll also have easy access to both Miami and Fort Lauderdale.

Could I live in Hollywood Florida full-time? Mmm….probably not. It’s not exactly culturally rewarding for me (although I enjoy keeping up with my Spanish there, since it seems that just about everybody in South Florida speaks it), and given my track record with natural disasters, I’d prefer not to live somewhere quite so hurricane-prone. And to be perfectly honest, Hollywood’s biggest attraction for me is my friend who lives there. If it weren’t for her, it wouldn’t be on my radar.

But as a place to visit, with great weather, lovely beaches, restaurants, not too much going on, and easy access to two major airports that make it a great international jumping-off point, I’m happy to have Hollywood Florida as my (kind of) home base.

This post was written in collaboration with Visit Florida, from whose website I received a ton of tips about the best Hollywood Florida attractions that I could show off to my visiting friend.

This post Hollywood Florida: My (Kind of) Home Base appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Come along for the journey! I’m recapping all that was 2016 for better and worse.

This post was originally published in 2017. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

January – February: Peru

I rang in the new year in my cozy house in the Sacred Valley in Peru; a place that had been my home base for almost two years. I continued to work with my teacher as his assistant with plant medicine ceremonies. I also did a few excursions, notably to The Ruins of Tipon (A Marvel in Irrigation).

To make space for my shamanic pursuits, I was also in the process scaling down my online activities (and thus, income). Interestingly, I didn’t feel the pinch, and it inspired me to reflect on past incomes and lifestyles and write about Lifestyle Inflation (How Earning Money Sucks the Life Outta You).

From January through April, I was also running around like a decapitated chicken collecting and translating, notarizing, etc a dizzying array of documents required to apply for residency in Peru.

March: Canada, Ireland

I won a trip to Ireland! Yessiree, I won a trip, through a random sweepstakes. The trip included flights, accommodation, and rental car for two people, departing from Canada. There was no contest in deciding who to invite; I took my Mum.

So I hopped on a plane from Peru to Canada to pick Mum up and off we flitted through Ireland for a week of incredible scenery, beautiful drives, a few pints, and lots of indulging in the melodic Irish accent – which is probably my favourite accent, and one I can’t help but imitate when I’m in the presence of it.

April-June: Peru

I returned to Peru with a(nother) suitcase of odds and ends to facilitate my “nesting” process there. Unfortunately, a surprising and heartbreaking turn of events awaited my arrival. The day I got back I was informed by my teacher/landlord/boss/friend that our arrangement was over. I had two weeks to move out, I lost all the efforts (and funds) expended to get my residency, and I felt pretty lost and confused.

Thus was triggered a massive process of healing for me, which lasted a few months. (Months that, with a dose of hindsight, flew by, but of course in the throes of it I was a total mess).

But I had people and angels alike looking out for me. I was offered places to stay, warm company, and lots of support. Knowing that I would soon be hitting the road again in a proverbially homeless way, I also needed to kick up my income again, and as if by magic, I was offered a new monthly column at Ingle International, in addition to my longstanding “Dear Nora” column on CreditWalk.

June-August: USA (Florida)

By mid-June, my Peruvian visa was running out, and I knew I had to cut myself loose from Peru in order to continue healing. So I left Peru, as well as my ideas of working with plant medicine, knowing that I would be led back to one or the other (or both) if it were meant to be.

I capped off my 2+ years in Peru with a hike to Mount Pitusiray with the first two friends I made with in Peru. It was a trip full of poetry, and a few tears shed amongst the three of us.

From Peru, I chose to “land” at the house of a friend I’ve known for over 20 years, who always keeps me laughing and with whom I can share anything. That friend lives in south Florida (Hollywood, to be exact), and two months with her were paramount to getting back on my feet again. I’m ever grateful to her for everything she did for me in that time, and for helping me see the levity in it all.

And as anticipated, my time in Florida was fraught with lessons and emotions – old and new. I was curiously amused at myself when I experienced many of the same core fears and challenges that plagued me (and most travelers) when I started traveling so many years ago now. Here’s a post about these challenges, as well as my quirky life in Florida: Hobo Update: Relearning Travel’s Inherent Lessons.

August: Canada

Before I left Florida I just had to stop in to meet the Anatomie crew (designers of my favourite travel clothing) and stock up on a few new pieces. Then, I returned to Canada to visit family and friends for a few weeks, and to celebrate my 40^th birthday, along with my two oldest friends who were turning 40 at the same time. We did the spa, partied it up in Niagara Falls, and topped it off with some winery tours. We even got matching tattoos!

September: Ecuador

I arrived in Ecuador (a new country for me) in early September for a house-sitting gig, and I loved it. I was in Cuenca, which is similar to Cusco in Peru (but better).

When I wasn’t taking in the sites, foods, and pace of life, I was taking a hard look at my business in search some new inspiration. I participated in a daily challenge to get me thinking about these things, and out of it popped the idea to start a new video podcast (or vlog – a term I’m reluctantly acclimatizing to). You can learn more about what led me to this in my first episode, here: Stairway to Freedom.

October: Ecuador

My house-sitting gig ended mid-October, at which point I headed to a plant medicine retreat centre about an hour outside of Cuenca in the mountains. My introduction to the place was quite serendipitous, and it was a way for me to say “hello” to plant medicine again.

I participated in two consecutive retreats there over the next month or so, and was given countless signs that I was in the right place, and I was encouraged to pursue my shamanic endeavours there.

I also filmed and published my second popular vlog: Fun Facts You Didn’t Know About The Professional Hobo.

November: Ecuador

As November drew to a close, so too did my Ecuadorian visa. After almost three months in Ecuador, I gained a unique sense of the place. Overall I loved every part of it. But there were a few things that confused me about the place, which I wrote in a post called Cuenca Ecuador: A City of Confusing Contrast.

Before I left, I was invited to return to Gaia Sagrada in the new year to volunteer and help run the place. The shamans all expressed their desire for me to return and continue to work with them, which was heartwarming.

So after packing my stuff (See Vlog Episode 3: Travel Packing – How to Pack For Full-Time Travel), I said “see ya later” (instead of “goodbye”) to Ecuador and my new friends there, with intentions of returning in January on an extended visa.

December: USA (San Diego, LA, Florida)

Where to go for the 2016 holiday season? After the amazing time I had in Florida with my friend earlier in the year, the choice seemed easy. Back to Florida!

But I wasn’t just staying local this time; shortly after releasing my annual Giant Travel Gear Roundup of travel clothes/gear/services/books/etc I’ve tested throughout the year, I hopped on a plane to visit a friend in San Diego for a week, and another friend in LA for a few days.

The rest of the month was spent in Florida, visiting with a variety of friends from other lands who also thought that spending the holiday season in Florida was a pretty fine idea.

What’s Next?

That’s a good question. At the moment, I’m still in Florida, but in a few weeks I’ll be returning to Ecuador to spend a few months (up to six) at Gaia Sagrada. I don’t know where all this plant medicine work will lead, but I also don’t need to know. I’ll stay there as long as it feels good, and I’ll move on when it’s time. I’m pretty zen about it at the moment!

Previous Annual Summaries

My First Four Years of Full-Time Travel (2007-2010, including Canada, Hawaii, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, USA, Mexico, New Zealand, Spain, Germany, France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Nepal)

What I did in 2011 (13 countries, 73,000 kms, including New Zealand, Canada, USA, Sweden, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Russia, China, Vietnam, Grenada)

What I did in 2012 (8 countries and 20,000 miles, including Grenada, St. Martin, BVIs, USA, Switzerland, France, England, Canada)

What I did in 2013 (12 countries and 29,000 miles, including Grenada, USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Ukraine, France, Panama)

What I did in 2014 (7 countries and 34,000 miles, including Panama, USA, Canada, Peru, Spain, Gibraltar, Italy)

What I did in 2015 (6 countries and 35,000 miles, including Peru, Colombia, USA, Costa Rica, Canada, Bolivia)

This post 5 Countries and 30,000 Miles: This Was 2016! appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Although I didn’t actually see “The Boulder Bubble” when driving in from Denver airport, after a few weeks of staying in Boulder, I felt it. Also referred to as “10 square miles surrounded by reality”, Boulder was an interesting experience – and one I’ve had some trouble formulating an opinion on.

Boulder begs to be poked fun at in many ways, and yet a tongue-in-cheek approach doesn’t quite do it justice. Nor does a glowing (nor scathing) review.

On this thoroughly ambiguous note, here are my observations of Boulder Colorado:

This post was originally published in 20015. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Boulder is About the Outdoors

The mountain-lover in me fell in love with the scenery and access to all things outdoors-y in Boulder. It sits right at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, and without even leaving the city limits you can get your hands on rock with rampant trails and climbing routes suited for novice and expert hikers, runners, and climbers alike.

There are also options if you don’t want to get vertical; it was the first city to tax itself for funds dedicated solely to the acquisition and preservation of open space; thus every neighbourhood has a great network of parks, paths, and green space.

The Flatirons dominate many vistas of Boulder, with climbing routes that have not only been traditionally climbed, but also climbed without ropes, naked, with roller skates, high-heels, pets, and a variety of other confusing incantations. Why, you might ask? Well, why not – a Boulderite might say.

It’s Quirky

With the University of Colorado in town, you’d naturally expect a fun-loving youthful quirky approach to things. But it’s not just students climbing those Flatirons in skates; Boulder in general boasts a unique approach to fun.

Frozen Dead Guy Days is a perfect (and far from a standalone) example; Boulderites flock annually to nearby Nederland to attend themed parties around – yep, you guessed it – a frozen dead guy, who was cryogenically preserved by his grandson in 1989. Some of the events you can attend include coffin races, a parade of hearses, and more.

Further proof of Boulder’s quirkiness: Mork and Mindy was filmed there, and it’s considered a badge of honour.

Better like Beer

I’m sure this quirky ambiance has something to do with the fact that Boulder is part of the largest beer-producing triangle in the world, with microbreweries at every turn.

It’s a Foodie Town

It’s nice to have something in your stomach to soak up all that beer. In 2010, Bon Appetite magazine named Boulder “America’s Foodiest Town”. There is a massive concentration of restaurants in Boulder, many with a farm-to-table approach and organic ingredients.

The Whole Foods Centre of the Universe

Speaking of organic food, Boulder has multiple Whole Foods grocery stores, including the galaxy’s largest Whole Foods store – affectionately referred to as “Whole Paycheck”. I got lost in it, before finally finding the cash registers and confirming the “whole paycheck” nickname.

Boulder is (Unbelievably) Active

You’d think with all this beer and good food that Boulderites would be obese for it; quite the opposite. In fact I believe the calorie count in Boulder needs to be thus in order to support so many (ridiculously) active lifestyles.

Boulder tops all the lists for well-being, most active city, bike-friendly city, adventure town, and more. It was rated “#1 Sports Town in America” by Outside Magazine, and more people walk to work per capita in Boulder than anywhere else in the US.

Boulder also celebrates all things bicycle; in the winter, the bicycle paths get ploughed before the streets do; the total bicycle count is more than one per person. In the summer, every Thursday night hundreds of people participate in the “Thursday Cruzers” event, riding their cruiser bikes around town and shouting “Happy Thursday” to bemused onlookers.

Boulder’s proximity to the Rocky Mountains make it the perfect outdoor playground for those who are active at heart. Drive half and hour and you’re on your own in nature, surrounded by deafening silence. Another half an hour and you’re in ski country, lots of ski resorts to choose from.

I Feel Fat in Boulder

All this fitness makes me feel fat here (and I’m pretty far from being overweight or unfit). Everybody is in top shape; they run (like, marathons), bicycle (like, triathlons), do yoga (like, with a higher concentration of the most perfect downward dogs than I’ve ever seen), and more.

Named “skinniest city in America” by Gallup in 2012, Boulder is just a sample of what you can find in Colorado in general; a 1992 survey by the Centers for Disease Control found that Colorado had fewer overweight people per capita and more people who exercise than any other state.

Function is Valued Over Fashion

If it looks like everybody is dressed like they just came from the gym or off the trail, it’s because they did. I saw more spandex on the streets in three weeks of staying in Boulder than I have in the rest of my life put together.

I had heard (but was unable to substantiate with some sort of statistic) that Boulderites are among the worst-dressed populations. But it’s more like a different kind of fashion; although you’ll see a lot of spandex and active-wear in Boulder, you can bet that a lot of it came from some speciality brand-name designer shop. They may not be runway-worthy fashion statements, but they’re fashion statements nonetheless.

“Spandex is timeless,” said one Boulderite in defence of this observation; need I say more?

There’s Money in Boulder

…and a lot of it. (People have to pay for all that fancy spandex somehow). It’s touted as one of the most expensive cities in America to live in; as evidenced by the high concentration of restaurants, brand name (active-wear) stores, and a booming real estate market.

People are Smart

With money comes smarts. Boulder boasts the highest number of educated people in the US (and I had heard the highest number of nobel laureates but was unable to substantiate that rumour). It’s the #1 city for brainpower, and has the highest concentration of tech employment. Move over Silicon Valley: Boulder is on the scene.

The Other/Under Side of Boulder

The above facts about Boulder Colorado are largely positive. It’s a happy-healthy-educated-active-prosperous place. What could be wrong?

Well, nothing, in a sense. Boulder rocks (as long as you fit the bill). But if you don’t fit this profile, Boulder might be a bit overwhelming. Topping so many of the “best this” and “most active that” lists, it’s an extreme place, full of extreme people. I heard comments like “it’s hard to live in a place where everybody is so fit, so successful, and so rich”. It seems that just being mediocre isn’t in the cards.

“To live in Boulder, you have to be driven, successful in business, AND an extreme athlete,” said a woman who lived in Boulder for many years and became somewhat disillusioned by it after surviving cancer and a few life changes that stopped her in her tracks. Suddenly she didn’t fit the profile and felt alienated by her own home town.

Like many North American cities, Boulder is a busy place; want to go for coffee with a friend? Better schedule it a few weeks in advance. And if you’re hoping for a deep soul connection with your coffee date, you might need to schedule that one at least a month out.

I saw a spiritual side to Boulder, but as with many things spiritual, it begged the question how much of it is spirituality versus being fashionably spiritual. Throw a stone and you’re likely to hit a yoga studio – full of fit tight-bodied perfectly-clad people executing every pose to (and perhaps beyond) perfection. Next door you’re likely to find a health food store, organic restaurant, or trendy coffee shop, where you’ll overhear somebody talking about their 10-step method to enlightenment. And don’t forget to get your dog some specialty gluten-free dog food before you go home.

People in Boulder almost seem “too” good at everything. It’s intimidating.

But then again maybe it’s just me. The majority of the people I met in Boulder were pretty awesome, well-traveled, and engaging folks. Colorado in general is a beautiful state, and seems to attract an eclectic nature-loving active populous. As with many cities, Boulder is a bit hectic for my taste, and living there in a financially sustainable way would require some serious income.

But you can’t complain (too much) with 300 days of sunshine per year. Or if you did complain, nobody would hear you; they’re all off hiking/skiing/biking/paddling/running somewhere.

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