Yesterday, I was craving pizza.

Fortunately, I happened to be in San Diego’s Little Italy, so I headed straight to the nearest slice shop. It was well-reviewed, and the pies looked promising. I ordered two specialty slices: one pepperoni hot honey, one white pesto. My total? 

Twelve dollars.

And it wasn’t even good.

How does anyone afford to live? 

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TODAY…

I return to the world of social media from a one week detox.

I thought I’d have something insightful to share, but I do not. I’m just reminded of how much more enjoyable life is when you’re fully in it.

When was the last time you lived solely for yourself?

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Hostels have become such a regular part of my life that I feel no need to discuss them. So it comes as a bit of a shock when I realize that people still have negative perceptions about hostel culture.

Then I remember that sleeping in a room with strangers is not exactly normal for most adults, and I am reminded why people question the allure.

Bunk beds are for summer camp, you might say.

Fine. Let me try to change your mind.

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These last few weeks have seen me back on my backpacking game, on the road again with my good ol’ pal Willie Nelson. Moving as I wish. Doing what I please. 

Which turns out… is not much. 

I knew I’d be traveling more slowly than before — no more of that three nonstop nights per city thing — but I didn’t expect to feel straight up lazy.

Or maybe, I’m just growing up. 

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Some people hate the travel part of traveling. Hi Dad.

I love it. 

Staring out the window of a train watching the world go by… the energy of movement… the excitement of being en route? That’s where the name “ONWARDS” came from.

The feeling of I’m on my way? It’s addicting.

Maybe dangerously so.

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So, to recap.

Here’s what you missed on the Sayulita Shit Show:

• The sea is full of sewage.

• Everyone is getting sick.

• Tourism is a parasite.

And I’m grateful.

All that negativity and she says she’s grateful? Of course. As these things often go, this challenging situation presented me with a choice. A choice which, in the end, reminded me of two very important things.

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TWO WEEKS AGO…

Halfway into a one month stint in one of Mexico’s long-loved Pacific surf towns. 

I arrived with a pep in my step. Psyched to be out on the water every single day. Escaping winter. Being productive — imagine. Eager to once again be spending a chunk of time in one spot, sharing new insights into a new place.

Half the month gone, and my insight is this: stop coming to Sayulita.

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You: Is she finally going for clickbait?

Me: No. Unintentionally, if so. I do accept the fact that I may grind some gears though.

For those who are confused, Uncle Tommy’s Tavern is an Irish pub in my hometown which myself and many of my friends have frequented at one point or another. 

The Guinness is fresh, the bar food is good, and the crowd is friendly (99% of the time). It’s even rated 4.7/5 on Google.

And I’m a little afraid to ever go back.

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It finally happened. After a little whining and a lot of spiritual reckoning, I made a TikTok. 

Not because I wanted to. Because I got tired of being told I was stupid not to give it a go for marketing purposes. 

I was not looking forward to this. So, I attempted to frame it in a way that would excite me: a social experiment.

This was a month ago. The experiment is over and done with. Here is what I learned.

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The other day, I walked for 5 hours under the scorching Barbados sun for a famous fish sandwich. 

Could I have taken the bus? Sure.

But that would be too easy. And 2024 is for the plot.

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