Freedom on the Road — A “Vanifesto”
For my entire “professional” adult life,
I lived each year tied down to a 12-month lease. I was fortunate to have high-paying jobs and vacation time, which I used to take amazing 2–4 week trips around the world; however, I was still bound to one place or area. I lived in California for three years and only surfed once (I didn’t even see the Redwoods, Yellowstone, or Yosemite).
For the past 18 months, I’ve lived in Sri Lanka. I came here to begin what I thought would be an (roughly) year-long backpacking trip around Asia and Europe. The COVID-19 pandemic changed the equation, and I decided to remain here instead of returning to the USA.
My time in Sri Lanka has been transformational
. . . in many ways—most of which I probably can’t even understand yet while I’m still here. Barring the lockdown periods, I’ve been able to move around quite freely. Visit different beaches and surf breaks. Escape to the mountains and stay as long as I want. Live seasonally in different parts of the country. Strap my surf board to a scooter and head down the coast.
Things I could never do when tied to a lease AND a 9–5 job.
So now, as I begin to imagine what life looks like for me moving forward, the prospect of jumping back into the old corporate life doesn’t appeal to me. I haven’t worked a desk job since I was laid off by Activision-Blizzard in February of 2019; and honestly, I’m happy I lost that job. I’m happy that I sold all my furniture and possessions and went to live abroad.
So when I return to America, I want to experience America. I want to surf California. I want to live in the mountains. I want to explore, untethered — with the ability to pick up and go at a moment’s notice.
So the allure of getting a camper van is nigh irresistible. A trusty set of wheels, a cozy home, and a ticket to Anywhere, USA. The average cost of a hotel room in America is well over $100 per night. Most budget motels start around $45 (in smaller towns). AirBnB accommodation prices tell a similar story. Domestic travel is systematically structured to be feasible for short stays, trips split among a few friends/a family, or . . . well, if you’re rich, it doesn’t matter much, does it?
With my own space shuttle, I could navigate the cosmic heartland at my own pace, without worry of racking up thousands of dollars each month in accommodations alone. With a small kitchen setup, I can also keep my living costs low (might not be able to make a Sri Lankan rice and curry in there though!).
I want to live a lifestyle that’s open
. . . to the kind of opportunities, chance encounters, and detours that enrich my backpacking travels abroad. I want a trip that unfolds before me: a trip that actually reflects my life.
I want a comfortable space
. . . that can transport me plus a minimal amount of music production gear (midi keyboard, interface, 1–2 guitars, 2 microphones, small monitors), an Xbox with projector and retractable screen, a surfboard and bicycle, and 1–2 other people, if the occasion calls for it.
I want a sturdy and reliable vehicle
. . . that is well-built and maintained, that I will be accountable for upkeeping. Ideally, it is also off-road capable, because I want to get lost in the deserts and mountains of America (this was never a feasible task in my old Mazda 3 sedan).
And after really sitting with myself over the last year and a half, reflecting on what I want and need out of life,
. . . I desire the ability to be able to go see my friends around the country, surf seasonally, write and perform music, teach breathwork and yoga, and do some remote work on the go.
So I guess this is my Vanifesto. Here’s to the next chapter.
Here’s to freedom.
