Exploring America

So, what does one do after making the decision to leave America and become an expat?

Plan an epic, massive, awesome road trip.

That’s right.

My time as a Las Vegan is coming to a bittersweet end in a mere few days (the movers come Monday, June 11). Then, I’m off on a cross-country road trip adventure before I head to Thailand and Elephant Nature Park.

Who is coming along for the ride?

First, Dave, of What’s Dave Doing, will be joining me.

He arrives Sunday to Las Vegas and gets to deal with an emotional D for a few days. (Yes, I feel bad but he has promised alcohol to take the sting of leaving my cats and driving north on 15.)

Where are we going?

No trip through the gorgeous southwest is complete without a stop in Utah at one of the stunning national parks. For this journey, we are parking it for two nights in Zion.

I’ve lived in the area for a total of five-plus years, so Zion isn’t new to me. But, it is to Dave! While I’m not going to be doing any death defying Angel’s Landing adventures, I do plan on re-visiting this gorgeous enclave of nature … and chilling by our hotel’s pool for a bit.

Then, we’re off to Colorado and TBEX — with a stopover to chill out in Denver and possibly drink some Fat Tire.

After getting some travel blogger conference time in, Dave and I will part ways and the passenger seat will open up to one of my favorite travel bloggers in the universe, Erica from Over Yonderlust.

Like Dave, we’ve never actually met in person, but through e-mail and phone conversations, I know I already adore the girl.

After Colorado, we are heading to Omaha (someplace in middle America, you’re welcome), then Chicago to see one of my best travel girls, Katie, and to make sure Erica crosses off “eating a hot dog” in the Windy City from her bucket list.

From Chicago, we are going to bop on down to Louisville, Kentucky to spend a few days with a good friend of mine, don fascinators and check out the Churchill Downs and even embark on a little bourbon tour.

Then, we’re in the home stretch and headed to Maryland to drop off my car, go sailing with my dad and raise a glass in our nation’s capitol.

What does this mean for the site? Well, for the next few weeks, as I pack, move and road trip it, there will be some guest posts to entertain. Then, once I’m back in the 301, it will be back to a more normal routine again! And, likely, tales of our epic adventures!

Want to follow along on the journey? Be sure to check out #winosontheroad on Twitter, Instagram and our blogs.

Have you done a cross-country road trip through America? Any places we should stop along the way? Leave a comment below and share your story!

Daily Wanderlust: Helsingborg, Sweden

One of the oldest cities in Sweden (the first settlement can be traced back to 1085), Helsingborg is both charming and incredibly scenic. It’s the closest point in the country to Denmark. In fact, a quick ferry ride across the water lands passengers in Helsingor, Denmark and Hamlet’s castle. On a sunny day, you can even make out the castle on the banks of the water.

Like most European cities, Helsingborg, Sweden, features many historic spots, including the medieval fortress, Kärnan, and Kullagatan, the first pedestrian shopping street in Sweden.

Even on a cloudy day, it is still easy to see the beauty of this coastal town.

Editor’s Note: My time in Sweden is courtesy of Visit Sweden, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy. Want more on Sweden? Follow along in Twitter and Instagram, #myswedentrip.

Daily Wanderlust: Lysekil, Sweden

Summertime in Sweden means a few things: gorgeous weather, the desire to be outside enjoying said weather, and a sun that never seems to set.

At 4 a.m., the first rays of sun creep through the window (which curtain I never did draw closed). By 6 a.m., thanks to the nine hour time difference, I am up. Ready for the day. Even though I know by 2 p.m., I will be in major need of a nap.

Fortunately for those early mornings, I have the places I am visiting to myself. I am able to creep down the creaky stairs at Strandflickorna in Lysekil and head out the front door to the beauty of the sea that awaits me.

On this early morning walk, it was just me and the seagulls taking in the nature and charm of the town, which is located nearby Gotenburg. A major tourist hotspot in the summer, this morning was quiet.

And all mine.

Editor’s Note: My time in Sweden is courtesy of Visit Sweden, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy.

Driving in Sweden

I roll the keys to the Volvo over and over in my hand, laughing nervously as the Hertz customer service agent explains the car to me.

I haven’t drive in Europe since Romania. And that … that was just awful steering wheel death grips and praying for survival.

I’ve been traveling for nearly 24 hours and can feel the exhaustion and the nine hour time difference begin to sink in, even though it is 9 a.m. in Gotenburg.

“Um … driving here … in Sweden … I’ve only driven once in Europe … and it was in Romania … and I didn’t like it at all. I was really scared the entire time … is this, um, is driving in Sweden anything like that?” I ask, trying my best to assemble my thoughts, cringing at how stressed I was during my day trip through the Eastern Europe country.

The blonde haired woman looks at me and smiles.

“No, not at all,” she promises.

I take the keys and head to the parking garage where my four-door Volvo sits, waiting for me.

OK, D. Let’s do this.

After unloading my suitcase into the trunk, I slide into the driver’s seat and sit. Breathe. Put the key in the ignition.

You’ve got this.

I turn on the car, back out.

Not so bad.

Then, I head out of the garage.

A cab whizzes by me. Then, a car. My shoulders shoot to my ears. My grip tightens on the steering wheel.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I can’t drive here.

I have no choice. I take one hand off the wheel and grab my directions, which don’t say anything about how to get out of the airport and onto the E6 towards Oslo.

Not good.

So, I do what I am best at: winging it.

I pull out, slowly. Very, very slowly. Then, am on the roadway. Trying to keep up with traffic, but when the speedometer shoots up towards 70 km/h I begin to doubt my driving ability.

Driving in Sweden — Guesses on what this says?

Maybe it’s because of the lack of sleep and long travel time. Maybe it’s because of the gloom I have stepped off the plane and in to. Gray clouds hang low in the sky.

Please, please do not rain. I don’t want to drive in the rain in a foreign country in a car that is not mine.

I silently will myself to get out onto the highway and go, go, go.

And then, I’m off. Albeit not fast enough for the red Volvo behind me, who, in my rearview mirror, shakes his head and raises his hands as he pulls around me.

Still not sure where the illusive E6 is (I see no signs), I pull off and stop at a gas station and ask.

“It’s just there,” the clerk says, looking amused at my complete lack of knowledge.

Then, I pull back out onto the highway, off towards Oslo for my first stop of my Sweden trip, the island of Marstrand.

And, you know what? Driving in Sweden? A lot like driving in America. Thank goodness.

Editor’s Note: My time in Sweden is courtesy of Visit Sweden, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy.

Escape of the Week: Sculptures at Pilane

The island of Tjörn, located in Western Sweden, is home to enchanting fishing villages that attract flocks of tourists each summer, thanks to the warm temperatures and vast expanses of sea to drop a boat into and set off into the late sunset.

In keeping with the outdoor exploration encouraged in this region, Sculpture at Pilane offers a different way to take in the fresh air. A mix of contemporary art and ancient history, the summertime outdoor museum is not only a lesson in Sweden’s Viking roots, but also a beautiful exhibition of art set against rolling emerald green hills speckled with granite outcroppings.

During the Iron Age, this spot was used as a meeting place, and today, visitors can witness the past thanks to the 100 circle graves that date back to the time of Vikings, more than 2,000 years ago.

Today, the area merges old with new, and invites artists from all over the world to create sculptures and place them against this lush landscape.

“The landscape makes the art visible,” say Peter Lennby, who has been at the helms of the project for six years. “It is easier to focus on the art here than in a gallery or city.”

And, it’s true.

The sculptures, set against the vibrant green grass and granite, pop.

Each summer, Sculpture at Pilane opens its little admissions shed and offers visitors a chance to explore this spot that overlooks the Gothenburg archipelago.

This year, the annual exhibition features nine international artists. The largest installation, Temple, by China’s Zhang Huan, will sit atop the rocks, allowing visitors to explore a recreation of a Chinese temple, along with spectacular views of the water below.

Other pieces include American artist Keith Edmier’s “You Gotta Go Out, You Don’t Have To Come Back.” For this piece, he took the remains of a boat which sunk near Chicago and transported it to Sweden. He pays homage to the Viking ritual of burying the dead in the boat. This year, the boat sits with the mounds of dirt surrounding it. Next year, according to Lennby, they hope to bury the boat in this spot.

Swedish artist Claes Hake recreates Wall Street in this immense granite installation.

Created by waste, this fiberglass piece is by Germany’s Wilhelm Mundt. Known for his work in this medium, Trashstone 306 is one of many he has created thanks to recycling waste.

Bronze and trees combine in this piece, “The Heart of Trees,” by Spain’s Jaume Plensa.

In the distance, United Kingdom’s Tony Cragg’s piece, “Point of View,” made from bronze, sits perched on higher ground.

Getting there: From Gothenburg, head on the E6 towards Oslo. Exit at Stenungsund and follow signs to Tjörn. Cross the Tjörn Bridge and turn left at the light. Follow 169 towards Skarhamn. At the Wallhamn crossroad, turn right towards Kallekarr and Krykesund. Pass Kallekarr and then follow the brown signs for “Pilane Gravfait” towards Kryreksund.

Cost: 80 sek for adults; 15 and under are free.

Editor’s Note: My time in Sweden is courtesy of Visit Sweden, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy.

Daily Wanderlust: Molla-Celebi Mosque in Istanbul

Editor’s Note: This is a guest post by Nic Freeman.

Istanbul’s European Bosphorus shore is so rich with inspiring structures, like the Dolmabahçe Palace and Ortakoy Mosque, that the smaller wonders are sometimes overlooked.

Sitting quietly by the waterside, near the Kabataş funicular and ferry stations, is the delightful Molla-Celebi mosque, also known as Findikli Camii or The Hazelnut (by Brandon). Quaint by Istanbul mosque comparison, Molla-Celebi was built by famous Turkish Ottoman architect, Mimar Sinan, in the mid 1500s and remains a popular place of worship today.

The lean minarets and elegant dome of Molla-Celebi are best enjoyed from one of the nearby waterside ice-cream cafes, as the dying sun reflects from the Bosphorus Straight.

Daily Wanderlust: Sunset in Malmö, Sweden

There is a magic that comes with sunsets.

When that giant ball of red sinks deep into the horizon. When the colors cast are so vivid, you’d swear you’re in another reality. When you can almost hear the collective sigh of every other person around you as daylight gives way to twilight gives way to night.

In Sweden, this happens later than Las Vegas — to the tune of a few hours.

After a gorgeous dinner in the sustainable enclave of the West Harbour in Malmö, Sweden, my new friend (by way of paddle boarding), and I took some time to soak in the last sips of daylight on the boardwalk.

The sunsets here are prolonged, as if the sun just decides to hover where it is for hours, giving people permission to enjoy the day even longer.

On this night, that is precisely what we did.

Even after the sun disappeared behind the Baltic Sea and Denmark, I sat, staring at the beautiful remnants of the day, taking the last wisps of light and burning the memory of the Malmö sunset into my mind.

Editor’s Note: My time in Sweden is courtesy of Visit Sweden, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy.

The price of becoming an expat

Curled up in my lap, light blue eyes heavy with sleep, Jagger barely whispers to me, “will you bring my back a coconut to drink from?”

I fight tears as I twirl his blonde shaggy hair between two of my fingers.

“Absolutely,” I promise, even though I know there’s no way I am going to be able to leave Thailand with a coconut. I promise myself to figure it out before I come back to Las Vegas.

As his eyes close, sadness washes over me.

It’s not the first time I’ve felt like this since I’ve made my decision to become an expat.

I don’t want to leave him, or his eight-year-old brother, Presley, or his mother (and one of my closest friends in the world), Kyla. They are my Las Vegas family. And leaving them makes my heart hurt in that way impending loss just aches through your entire body.

When I come home, Jez greets me on the stairs, meowing a conversation to me. She neck-dives into the carpet, turning up her chest for me to scratch. Then, Keeley, the cat I’ve had since 2007, comes down, too. Meowing her approval at my return.

It’s gotten worse lately with the cats. It’s almost as if they sense I am leaving. That I am passing them along to a new home, and the bond we have created, the relationship we have, will cease in a few short weeks.

That tears my heart into shreds.

Even sitting on my couch, taking stock of my Las Vegas life, my gorgeous condo I rent, the paintings that hang on my walls … the life I have here … it makes my head swirl with doubt. With second thoughts.

Am I really ready to exchange this for a new life?

I knew when I returned to Las Vegas it wouldn’t be forever. This is my home, but it isn’t the place I want to live right now.

I know very well that my future does not lie in the southwest desert.

But, as I sit, nearing my last weeks in this town, in this life, I wonder to myself if I really know what it is I am doing.

Within a matter of weeks, my life has changed entirely. I have accepted a position with Elephant Nature Park in Thailand. I have quit my job and gone into business for myself. I have gotten a non-immigrant visa to live in Thailand for one year.

Life changes oh so quickly.

And now … I am leaving the life I have lived since November 2010. Since returning from my long-term travels. I knew this life was not permanent. But suddenly, it’s just so hard to say “goodbye.”

When I left to go on my travels in 2010, I didn’t feel like this. I knew I would be back. I knew it was temporary. This is, too. But, it feels far more permanent. Maybe it is because I am getting older. Maybe it is because I know in the next few years I want kids, and by leaving, by uprooting my life once again, it means I am still as far aways as ever from that goal.

Does it delay me from the inevitable growing up? Or, is this my grown-up life? Where nothing is permanent? Where I live my dreams but at a price of not ever having a truly stationary existence?

The other day at lunch, an editor asked me where I saw myself in five years. I looked at her, dumbfounded.

Five years? I can hardly imagine five months.

The truth is, I don’t know what I want for my future.

Nor do I know the extent of what I want to give up.

Leaving Las Vegas this time is bittersweet. I leave all of my loves behind. My best friends. My cats. My life. And, a few weeks after I leave Las Vegas, I leave my parents, my brother, my niece …

And I exchange it for something brand new. And entirely different. And beautifully wonderful.

The time I quit my job again

I have no intention of quitting my job so soon after returning from Red Mountain Resort. Except, the words from the shaman and my reiki practitioner echo in my ears: remove what it is from your life that is causing you the unhappiness.

And, while I am no longer unhappy, I certainly do not enjoy walking into the back office four days a week and doing the same annoying tasks, dealing with managing people who can’t be managed …

It’s hard to avoid this simple fact staring me down: I am done with my job.

Six days after my first sign, getting the e-mail from Elephant Nature Park, I sit at lunch, idly picking at a piece of pizza, and remark to my friend how over my job I am, how I can’t wait to quit.

“Well, why don’t you?,” she asks, staring me dead on over lunch. Instantly, it takes me back to my conversation with Katie in Thailand and the excuses I was throwing out to defend myself for not being ready to leave the country.

I have yet to hear back from Thailand, and, to my horror, in the days since the e-mail arrived to my Inbox, the park has been the subject of a raid. I don’t have an exit plan, other than going into business with myself and trying to make ends meet.

It’s not time to quit my job.

“You know, you’re right,” I say, surprising myself. “I’m going to resign. Right now.”

What. The. Hell.

But, once I’ve said it, it feels right.

Yes. I am going to go ahead and quit my job.

Leap.

So, I shoot a text to my boss, asking for a phone conference. He responds immediately, telling me “no,” he can’t talk with me, and then follows up with another text asking what I want to talk to him about.

He’s got to know. In a previous meeting, he had all but given me permission to quit. He went as far as to say, “D, I understand if this job doesn’t work out for you anymore since we can’t give you a raise or hire you full-time. I know you have to look out for you.”

And, that is exactly what I am doing.

He and I go back and forth for a few messages, as I carefully tip-toe around resigning via text. Finally, when he tells me he is driving and can’t talk (although most of our conversations take place in just that manner), I throw my hands in the air.

I’ve got no choice.

“I am done,” I say to my friend, furious at his brushing me off, as we walk back up to her office and I borrow a computer.

Then, quickly, with some instruction from my career counselor mom and life-long government employee father, I craft a short, sweet resignation letter that essentially says:

I quit. My last day is in 10 days. Thanks.

Within moments, my phone rings, and its my boss.

Now he can talk to me.

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to work here anymore,” he says, entirely unaware of the stress which used to render me awful.

“I don’t want to work for you anymore. I want to write, and I want to be happy, and I can’t do those things so long as I work with the company,” I explain.

He doesn’t get it. And, after saying it over and over, I decide to just give up. “It’s just not going to work for me anymore,” I offer.

Then, I hang up the phone.

Free.

Even if I hadn’t been ready to work for myself, suddenly, that is exactly what’s happening.

And the roller coaster begins to shoot down the first drop …

Daily Wanderlust: Istanbul By Night

Editor’s Note: This is a guest post written by Nic Freeman.

As the sun sets in an amber haze over the horizon of lego-like buildings and mosque minarets, Istanbul transforms into a glowing mesh under the night sky. From one of the many rooftop terraces across the city, you can admire the sparkling beauty of Istanbul’s lights as they reflect off the mighty intercontinental Bosphorus Straight (by brandon). You can ponder how many millions of people are staring at the same starry view from terrace tops and how many people are wandering the neon-lit streets below.

To capture the essence of Istanbul in one night, enjoy the city views while eating mezze and drinking a glass of raki from a terrace bar in the thriving modern district of Beyoğlu.

Istanbul by night - looking over the Bosphorus and Marmara Sea — Istanbul by night – looking over the Bosphorus and Marmara Sea