If there is one thing I had gotten gotten good at by month 12, it was transitioning cities and almost everything that comes along with the process. By our last stop, I was downright nostalgic about the ritual that the last Saturday of each month had become: transition day.
Transition day is preceded by the dreaded Friday night pack. Packing in preparation for transition day is the one part of the equation that never got easier, quicker, or more efficient for me month over month. I remember talking to my sister Elena month one, the night before we left Cape Town, and being dumbfounded about the amount of time it took to pack a bag, when there is no question about what to pack: everything! A mysterious riddle I never could quite solve.
I also found it interesting that as a natural born planner, I never got ahead of it, leaving it until the night before every time. Practically speaking I found it nearly impossible to pre-pack when you use a good portion of your belongings every day. And as the months went on, my shopping habit only added to the degree of difficulty. I came to find that the decision was emotional as well. Packing is final. It is a physical representation of the end of your stay in each city. And when it was a city like Marrakech or Split, that I didn’t want to leave, the decision was intentional. I didn’t want to say goodbye.
But pack I must no matter how long I tried to put it off. As luck would have it, one of my last packs in Bogotá was one of my most painless. KG and I put on some good tunes, everything from Maggie Rogers to Janelle Monae, and let the music move us. It went from packing pain to packing party.
Once the bag is packed, it’s time for bed. The night before I tried to get in bed at a decent hour because there were two guarantees come transition day: your wake-up call is going to be early and your day will be long.
Your pick up time is early, no matter the time of your flight, so that the cleaning crew can get in the apartment before the next RY group arrives. You also have to account for getting to the airport hours ahead of time to allow for the entire group to check bags, get through customs, etc. Before I left for RY, I envisioned myself making the most of this airport down time by reading or writing. The reality is I was usually too tired by the time transition day rolled around to do much of anything productive at the airport. Unless you count dancing as productive.
I don’t know when our departure gate dance parties started, but I can remember them as far back as month four leaving Belgrade. Mario and Mary were the ringleaders and would pick a song for the group to dance to as we waited to board. Most Ohana wanted no part of this ritual, but there is something about it that I loved, whether I was a full on participant or cheering from the sidelines.
I liked the disruptive nature of it: taking something tiresome and dull, like waiting to board, and turning it on its head into something lively. Moreover, it turned the transition into what it should be, a celebration. A celebration of where you’ve been and where you’re going!
Make no mistake, RY is the adventure of a lifetime, but it is also the challenge of a lifetime. Each month is an accomplishment. There’s a reason not everyone makes it the whole year. That’s why each milestone should be celebrated. And celebrate we did during our final dance party to Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t Stop the Feeling” as we departed Bogotá en route for Mexico City with sunshine in our pockets and some good soul in our feet.
Nothing beats a direct flight on transition day and thankfully our flight to Mexico City was non-stop. After a year of transitions, I can say that the mid-range flight time (5-7 hours) is my least favorite. I am mentally prepared for the long haul flights. I think the mid-range ones will pass faster in comparison, they don’t. Or it could be I was simply excited to get to our final destination and time couldn’t move fast enough.
There is something special about arriving in a city at nightfall. I find there’s a little bit of magic in seeing a city for the first time by the glow of a street light. It was by this enchanting introduction that I made the acquaintance of Mexico City. I was excited to see what the inland of Mexico had to offer for my first visit beyond the beaches.
I was immediately taken by the city during the van ride from the airport to our apartment. More on that fabulous apartment in Once in a Lifetime. My transition time clock starts as soon as I arrive at the next apartment. 11 months in to switching cities monthly, I had my entrance plan down pat by the time I reached the capital of Mexico. You might be surprised to find how much routine can be built into a transitory stay.
The first order of business upon arrival is finding a bite to eat. Transition days are long and not always filled with actual meals. I came to appreciate this necessity for more than the food involved. It immediately forces you out into your new neighborhood.
For this last month, I found myself on Avenida Tamaulipas, one of the main drags of the Condesa neighborhood. Susanna and I walked across the street and had fish tacos in hand from El Merito de Mar before 10 p.m. just as the street was coming alive for the night.
The next order of business, unpacking. I found the sooner I unpacked, the sooner I would feel settled in my new living space. More often than not, I would unpack everything upon arrival. After all I only had two bags. If I arrived in a city after midnight, it would be carry-on only. For this reason, I learned to keep all toiletries, a pair of pajamas, and a change of clothes in my carry on.
By the time I climbed into my new bed on the tail end of a transition day - in a new country from the one I woke up in - I was too exhausted to care where I was laying my head and simply grateful to be lying down. It usually wasn’t until the next morning that I would realize just how bad my pillow was or how hard a mattress could be.
As you wake up in your new home that first Sunday morning, you get to know the sounds of the city. For example, I learned night one in Mexico City just how late the mariachi band plays at the tequila bar across the street. Or how frequently you hear the recording of the garbage pickers that is ubiquitous to Mexico City. The sonic impression of a city resonates in my memory as strongly as the sights and smells. Ask any Ohana if they can forget the woman who would sing outside our accommodations in Cape Town - they can’t.
The first Sunday in any city there is one mission critical errand that trumps the rest: finding the grocery store. In my experience if I didn’t go that Sunday, work would start Monday, and before I knew it, the week was out and the cabinets were still empty. It’s interesting that an errand I dread outside RY became one of my most stabilizing rituals.
It didn’t take long to optimize the shopping list. In a matter of weeks, I learned to buy less. I got really good at buying the essentials that I knew I would eat within the month. My goal was to leave little to no food waste behind at the end of each month. Whatever I had left over was either donated to the incoming RY group or the cleaning crew who would come in after our departure.
Little did I know just how much of a ritual my shopping list was until I arrived in Buenos Aires, month seven, fresh off my broken ribs, to find my kitchen had already been stocked by my Ohana. My previous roommates had nailed my weekly shop from memory.
Groceries within the first 24 hours of arrival was my number one transition rule. Number two became finding a gym within the first 72 hours. Initially my goal was within the first week, but I quickly realized that was flushing a quarter of your monthly membership cost down the proverbial toilet. Yet as time went on, it was less about the money and more about keeping the momentum going on the previous months workout routine.
Keeping this habit up on the road was very important to me. I set the intention to do so before I ever left Chicago. Everyone has their things and one of mine is working out. I haven’t taught Spinning for 15 years just as an excuse to wear spandex. It makes me feel good inside and out. I liken it to a form of therapy: a chance to clear my head, sort through feelings, and sweat them out. I knew myself well enough to understand that my workout routine would be a coping mechanism to deal with all the changes RY would bring. It also helped me bring routine to a transitory lifestyle.
I live for routine and yet l grew to love the nomad lifestyle. Which might sound contradictory, but it’s not. Because what I didn’t realize going in is, you make the lifestyle your own, the lifestyle doesn’t own you. I had my nomad lifestyle down. I built the routine I needed into a revolving door of cities, apartments, and places to call home.
But perhaps the biggest surprise was finding I was comfortable in its brevity. I am a self described homebody and a lifelong resident of the Chicago area. Until RY I had never lived outside the state of Illinois. I went from a permanent address to a different city every month, living out of a suitcase, and changing roommates as often as you may or may not wash your jeans. And I loved everything about it!
Transitioning every month might sound exhausting and sometimes it was. But even on the worst transition day (Córdoba to Lima for the win: coming down from malaria pills that I thought were altitude pills) it still reinforced my love of travel and everything that comes with it, from navigating a new airport, to finding just the right in-flight snack or reading material. Transition days were a monthly reminder that sometimes it’s not about the destination, but the journey of getting there.
If the journey of transitions taught me anything, it’s this: you can find a home anywhere in the world. Settling into that place happens faster than you think. Yet home is more than a place, it’s a feeling. And it’s about the people you surround yourself with wherever you are. And that was my secret weapon for feeling at home around the world, the people I surrounded myself with, my Ohana. See All That You Can't Leave Behind for more on my travel family and the feeling of home they surrounded me with all year long.
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