Earlier today I stumbled upon a Bali expat magazine and while admittedly I only glanced at it, something about seeing glimpses of one of the most striking places I’ve ever traveled coupled with the idea of expat living stirred me good and hard.
Indeed, I have a very romanticized vision of what living in Bali as an expat might entail. It kind of involves me wrapped in colorful sarongs, hiking through the lush landscape (dressed not in said sarong), sipping wine at sunset while perched on a terrace overlooking rice fields or tiered rooftops and palm trees, eating too much nasi goreng with other expats and travelers, sunning myself on beaches, meditating, visiting omnipresent temples. In my wee mind it all sounds awfully good. In fact, I can conjure up visions of expat bliss for many of the places I’ve traveled. But you gotta wonder: what’s the reality?
I’ve been grappling of late with ideas of home, home bases, location independent living, and next steps. I’m no closer to any answers, though I’m pretty consumed by questions. On the one hand, there’s a lot to be afraid of, on the other hand, I’ve worked goddamn hard in this life not to be ruled by fears. Do it scared, I believe.
I have the choice to keep wondering what actively being location independent would be like, researching, daydreaming, stopping myself. Or I can do it.
How else will I discover if my location independent fantasies are even close to reality? They might be a heck of a lot better than the real thing, or maybe, just maybe, reality blows my paltry daydreams away.