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Illustration by Drew Shannon
The long fishing pier is a well-worn narrow pathway, about six feet across, covered in stones and dirt with large boulders on each side to hold back the water. The Bocas de Ceniza extends out into the Caribbean Sea for a couple of kilometres, and I wonder how long it will take to reach the end.
I’m in Barranquilla, Colombia – a seaport city known for great fish and being the birthplace of Shakira; it is often a transitory city where tourists pass through heading in both directions to the busier and better-known cities of Cartagena and Santa Marta.
I keep an eye out so I don’t trip on the rocky path or get hit by the many motorbikes whipping by carrying tourists to the end of the pathway and back. I briefly wish I had worn better shoes and mentally tell myself I need to stop travelling everywhere in sandals – months later my doctor will confirm I have plantar fasciitis from walking everywhere in flat unsupportive shoes.
Along the way, I start to see a couple of tiny shacks on each side of the path. They’re tiny one-bedroom structures on stilts, made from various pieces of wood and scraps that have been pieced together to make a small home. You can’t tell by looking at them how long the shacks have been there or if they’re finished, as there’s no paint or finishing touches.
I approach one of them and come upon the man who lives there. He’s older, likely in his 50s, and tells me in Spanish that he has been living there for the past 15 years. I stop and watch him for several minutes as he stands on the rocks next to the water and fishes in the most unique way I’ve ever seen. Instead of a rod, the man holds a giant spool of fishing twine all rolled up. On the other end, far off in the distance, the twine is attached to a kite. The wind pushes the kite away from him and carries his long line out to sea with several hooks tied to the line to catch fish. As the sun is setting, I watch this man pulling in the line and checking for fish as his kite sways in the wind offshore. I mostly let him be, but silently wonder how many he catches each day and reflect on his solitary life in this dilapidated shack on the edge of the sea fishing at dusk and dawn. A life so different from my own but no less meaningful.
The woman who taught me that guardian angels don’t always come with wings
In my own life, I’ve chosen not to live anywhere for the time being. I gave up my apartment in Toronto over two years ago, opting to live and work remotely, wherever the wind takes me. I move around often and live permanently out of a suitcase, often staying with friends, family and in hostels across Canada and around the world. Toronto has become unaffordable, even more so since I’ve left, and I wanted a lifestyle where I could save some money while exploring new places and meeting new people.
Since that time, the journey has stretched me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I’ve learned to live with fewer possessions and often with little personal space. Instead of planning things out in advance, I’ve become extremely flexible and adaptable so that I’m open to new experiences and environments. I’m not sure where I’ll be sleeping the following week or what city I’ll be in. And that’s normal for me now.
I guess you could call me a digital nomad but I think that title sounds pretentious. Work can be done from anywhere now. As a publicist in the film industry, the majority of my job involves meetings and emails and that can all be done virtually – as long as I have a WiFi signal. And I do travel back to Toronto a few times a year for work events.
An introvert by nature, this new lifestyle has forced me to go out of my way to socialize and meet new people. I’ve made some incredible friendships along the way. The travelling community is a warm and open group of people; willing to invite others along for the ride. I’ve also taken pains to meet locals and learn about the history and culture of the places I’m staying in. I’ve had families invite me into their homes, practised pronunciation with a street musician desperate to improve his English, exchanged wisdom with an old philosopher wanting to talk, had countless Google translate conversations, an off-putting encounter with children who threw rocks at me because we didn’t share a religion and met thousands of dogs and cats – one of which peed on my backpack after I offered it an apple.
I no longer hide on Halloween night, here’s why I am shelling out again
I learned about a new word recently: “sonder,” coined to define when you realize that each person around you is experiencing a life as vivid and complex as your own. The longer I’m on the road, the more my eyes are opened to see the world this way and seek out opportunities to understand others.
I met the man from Barranquilla early on in my travels. Participating in that small slice of his life, especially in such an idyllic setting with the sun setting on wavy waters, made me excited and curious about the world. Living nomadically has repeatedly opened my eyes to people who live and think differently than I do, but it’s also reminded me of our shared goodness. Both are a wonderful gift and opportunity.
Brianna Hurley is currently in Chicago.