Travel Journal
I looked woefully out of place, my dirty shoes still wet from river rafting the day before. I couldn’t help but smile…this was my life lately. Chaotically different, one day to the next. One night I was falling asleep in a five star resort, surrounded by six down pillows. The next night I was pitching a tent, or falling asleep in the back of my truck.
Read MoreI stepped from the main terminal of Liberia airport with a backpack, a pack of gum and the determination to make my way to Monteverde rainforest without the help of a taxi. I waited for a local bus at the curb and passed 500 Colones to the driver. He was wearing sunglasses and an unbuttoned shirt.
Read MoreDominical is for dreamers and office job dropouts. Dominical is for the people we envy, the people who aren't bothered by status quo.
Read MoreFilm footage of my 10-day trek through Costa Rica and Nicaragua with some fellow vagabonds.
Read MoreWe dropped our bags at a hostel tucked behind a barricade of steel bars and ventured out to the streets in search of food. The roads were empty and wet with rain, soldiered by locked doors and steel gates. We were legitimately intimidated, but too hungry to care.
Read MoreI passed 33,000 Colones across the counter to Alonso, who passed me a slip of paper confirming my seat aboard a van scheduled to cross the border the next morning. Nate high-fived my latest serendipitous act of stupidity, and six of us sat down to toast our bungee jump that afternoon.
Read MoreThe winding mountain roads were stripped of electricity as Tio Ada barreled through the darkness. We climbed higher, Ada drove faster, and merengue music escaped into the night as I lowered my window to feel the rain.
Read MoreI kind of love taking local buses; traveling routes that wind through real countryside and small towns at a fractioned price. Sometimes you get where you need to go, sometimes you don't. We stepped off the bus at the wrong stop and into a chaotic collision of color, people and overly enthusiastic street vendors.
Read MoreI tiptoed through the dorm room past eight sleeping strangers and closed the bathroom door. A shower seemed like a good idea, but the drain was clogged and held at least a few inches of water hostage. I turned on the water and let it run over my hands for a few minutes. Ice cold. I gave up and put my dirty clothes back on, brushed my teeth and packed my little red bag.
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