Slowmading šŸŒ

Meredith's story on embracing slow travel, the one piece of travel gear I swear by, and this week's airport reads.

Hey, hey!

At this point, I think weā€™ve all heard about the slow travel trend. (If you havenā€™t, you can catch up on what youā€™re missing with this guide.) 

But thereā€™s already a new kid on the block. Enter: the slowmad.

A slowmad is someone who travels slowly, spending anywhere from 2 to 6+ months in the same place. 

Our writer Meredith Kane is someone who has truly embraced the slowmad-ic lifestyle. In fact, she runs a blog thatā€™s 100% dedicated to slowmad-ing, where she talks about her experiences traveling and staying in coliving spaces.

Sheā€™s a good friend and someone I admire greatly, so I wanted to devote this weekā€™s newsletter to sharing her story about what being a slowmad means and how she got there.

Letā€™s dive in.

Hey, this is Kelsey, and youā€™re reading the SiteSee newsletter. Think of me as your Big Sis when it comes to travel, inspiring you to keep going places. You can expect an email from me every Friday filled with nomad stories, tips for living a location-independent lifestyle, and the gear to get you there.

Travel Story āœļø

My family traveled the country while I was growing upā€”and I moved around a lot during my post-college yearsā€”but it wasnā€™t until my late 20s that I really ventured abroad. Within a few yearsā€™ time, I had roamed the streets of Paris, explored the castles of Sintra, and taken a selfie with the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen. 

I was awed and inspired by the places I visitedā€”but I was also left wanting more. I wasnā€™t satisfied taking vacation for just 1 or 2 weeks out of the yearā€¦and then spending the other 50 weeks dreaming of where Iā€™d go next. 

Even though I had a great job and an amazing community in Nashville, I also had this overwhelming feeling I couldn't seem to shake. It was calling me to step out of my comfort zone and discover more of this extraordinary planet weā€™re floating around on.

I was wrestling with this feeling in 2019 when I saw an ad on Instagram for Remote Year. 

Remote Year, I learned, is a community-driven travel company that helps digital nomads work and explore destinations all over the world, one month at a time. 

This concept was super attractive to me because it took the idea of work-life balance to a whole new level. It made me realize that my travel adventures didnā€™t have to be confined to just 10 or 12 days out of the year (and it didnā€™t have to wait until Iā€™d reached retirement). Instead, I could combine travel with work and do everything I wanted, all at once. 

Itā€™s safe to say that Remote Year ad had definitely reached the right audience. 

Just a few months after discovering the company, I quit my full-time director job and made the leap to freelance copywriting. From there, I signed up for a 6-month Remote Year program, beginning January 2020. 

If youā€™re connecting the dots here, then you realize 2020 wasnā€™t the ideal time to take a journey around the globe. Long story short: my Remote Year program ended abruptly in mid-March after only 6 weeks of travel.

I was devastated and felt completely lost. Like everyone else, I didnā€™t have a backup plan in place for ā€œWhat To Do If a Global Pandemic Breaks Out,ā€ so my whole life was upended.

Before I had left for Remote Year, Iā€™d finished my lease in Nashville and put all my things in storage. At the time, I was hoping that my travels would continue well past those initial 6 months, so I didnā€™t have any concerns about not having an apartment to return to.

But this also meant I was left with nowhere to go during the pandemic.

Ultimately, I moved back to my parentsā€™ home in Iowa. I was hoping to ride things out there for a few weeks and then pick up where I left off with travel. But after a few months, I got the sense that everything would stay shut down a while longer.

So I decided to find my own apartment, plug away at my freelance career, and put my travel dreams on hold for the time being. Over the next 2 years, a lot of life happened. Clients came and went. A relationship beautifully ran its course. And health issues popped up that I never saw coming.

But through it all, there was one thing that never wavered: my desire to see the world.

By mid-2022, travel was possible againā€”and I was more than ready. So I hopped back into a Remote Year program in Peru, and then traveled through Chile and Argentina on my own. And by the end of that year, I found myself coliving in a 12th-century castle in France.

It was at this coliving space where I truly learned to slow down. 

I slowed my conversations, my meals, and my hustle mentality. Maybe most importantly, I learned to slow my approach to travel as a whole. I felt so safe and welcomed in this coliving community that there was no pressure to rush or move on to the next destination. 

So I didnā€™t.  

Instead, I ended up staying in France for a total of 10 weeks. During that time, our coliving crew celebrated multiple birthdays and holidays together, enjoyed impromptu game nights, organized costume parties and family dinners, and bopped all over the region on the weekends.

Those 10 weeks showed me the value of investing in one place for longer. I formed deep relationships with my fellow colivers because we had the space and time to really get to know each other and swap stories about life, love, loss, and just about everything in between. 

All in all, this coliving experience affirmed my favorite part about traveling: the people you meet along the way.

Iā€™ve done my fair share of solo travelā€”and I can definitely thrive that way. But deep down, I know that for me, what makes a nomadic lifestyle so worthwhile are human connections. 

Last summer, I returned to that same coliving in France. Iā€™ve also had the opportunity to visit coliving spaces in Morocco, Montenegro, and Spain (spending a minimum of 4 weeks at each).

Iā€™ve learned so much from the people Iā€™ve met around the world. Plus, slowing down my travels has alleviated a lot of stress, saved me a lot of money, and really helped me appreciate every place Iā€™ve visited.

The thing is, I donā€™t travel to check boxes or collect stamps. I genuinely want to immerse myself in the culture, the cuisine, the landscape, and the language. I am deeply fascinated and captivated by all of it. And thatā€™s the beauty of embracing slow travel. You learn that you have enough time to do it all.

My travel style has greatly evolved over the last 4+ years, and I feel so fortunate to have discovered the joys of slow travel and the gift of coliving communities. Cheers to more of both in the coming months!

ā€” Meredith Kane

If you want to follow along on Meredithā€™s slow travel journey, you can do so here.

Gear CheckšŸ§³

Last week, I bought the one thing thatā€™s the unofficial sign of planting roots: a Dyson vacuum. 

In other words, I moved into an apartment in Cape Town. I'll continue to travel back to the States (and wherever else I desire once my 90-day visa expires), but for now, my suitcase and I are setting up camp in South Africa.  

And while I always prefer to travel light, my god am I grateful I had a quality tote bag this weekend. 

I've pushed mine to the absolute limits with numerous trips to the local hardware store. (At this point, I'm practically on a first-name basis with the staff.) All these intense shopping trips have just been further proof of the importance of one of my most basic travel tips: Always travel with a durable tote with a strong base (like this one from BAGGU). Whether Iā€™m dashing to grab vegetables at the nearby market or collecting gifts for friends back home, I'm consistently amazed by how frequently I depend on it. In fact, I think a trusty tote bag is a must-have no matter if youā€™re living that nomadic lifestyle, relocating, or living in a city.

Airport ReadsšŸ—žļø

Last ThingāœØ

Thanks so much for being a part of this community. šŸ«¶ I hope you have a beautiful end of the week. See you here next Friday!

Onwards,

Kelsey

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