When it comes to your partner or companion, it’s important to be able to read each other. Lia and I have a few different check-ins that we say to each other that hold different meanings in our partnership. One of them is “Is this surfing?”
This is the story of the birth of that expression, and a lesson of caution about trying new things.
At least, that’s how I introduce this story. Lia likes to call it “that time I almost got stung to death by a million jellyfish.” But more on that later.
Pssst: Looking for more experiences in California? Check out these other posts we’ve written!
- 12 Adorable Things to do in Morro Bay, California: A Local’s Guide
- 12 Charming Things to Do in Cayucos, California
- The 11 Best Wineries in Paso Robles, California
- 8 Quintessential Places to Visit on California’s Central Coast
Table of Contents
Morro Bay, California
It has been mentioned it before, but I grew up in Morro Bay, CA. It’s a sleepy little tourist town on California’s Central Coast with great sea life, scenic views, delicious food, and an interesting collection of locals. It’s only 4 hours away from San Francisco and makes an amazing weekend trip from the Bay Area, so we visit frequently.
Pretty much everyone from that town takes part in the absurdly Californian hobby of surfing. Lia had never gone surfing before and would tease me about how my life growing up was “The OC,” (which, to someone that grew up on a farm in Kentucky, probably wasn’t an off base assumption) so one trip back home, with our friend T along for the ride, we decided it was time she tried it.
Gorgeous Morro Bay harbor faces the famous icon of Morro Bay: Morro Rock, a towering volcanic plug that is viewable from everywhere in town.
My wife, as outgoing as she is, is absolutely an introvert. We’d spent the past week camping with friends, getting drinks with high school buddies, and constantly running around. She needed a break from people and was feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. If you’ve ever spent time with an introvert who needs some time alone, you probably know that they tend to be cranky and anxious.
But of course, I didn’t notice, and she didn’t speak up, either. So we’re kinda both at fault, I guess. Again, it depends on who’s telling the story …
Anyway, we had plans to go surfing.
That Time We Went Surfing
We pulled up to the rental shop (Wavelength’s. Check them out if you’re in town) and Lia was already regretting her decision to keep quiet about her brewing anxiety.
As we headed to the dressing rooms to try on our wetsuits, she was mentally reliving the last time she attempted to stuff her tall, voluptuous Amazonian body into the size Medium wetsuit the kayak rental store employee handed her. It was made for girls no taller than 5’5″ and 125 lbs. It did not go well. Have you ever tried to squeeze a sausage into a casing? Picture that.
Thankfully, the guy working this counter was a pro and got all three of us fitted perfectly in a minute.
Wetsuits: Not for the insecure or the faint of heart. In other news, I think this is the blondest my hair has ever looked.
We precariously strapped our surfboards to our car and drove the mile to the beach.
Let’s talk about these boards. They were 8 foot, super heavy foam boards. At first you think “Oh these aren’t so bad to carry,” but then you walk a hundred yards in hot sand with gale force winds whipping at your face and you begin to question what on earth you were thinking.
Our friend T is a little north of 5′ tall, so she was struggling just figuring out how to hold the damn thing. And with every belabored step, Lia’s level of “this is the stupidest shit imaginable” increased.
By the time we found a good spot on the beach, she was already resigned to never walk with a board that big again.
I gave Lia and our friend T a quick lesson on paddling out, grabbing the wave, popping up, and taking a fall. Then, we set off for the water.
For those of you who’ve never surfed, when you paddle out – which is essentially swimming using only your arms while lying on the board – waves are crashing on you repeatedly. The way you combat this is to “turtle” (where you hold your board down INTO the wave and let it crash over you), or to hit the wave straight on and sort of float over it.
Neither of those options made sense to Lia, because they both result in you getting slapped in the face with a wave and ending up with sea water in your eyes and mouth.
Instead, with each wave, her strategy was to shriek, duck, and turn away from the wave. She may have gotten slightly less salt water in her mouth, but she also ended up sliding back to the shore every 3 seconds.
As you can imagine, this plan did not work. As a result, 45 minutes went by before she was far enough out to catch a wave. It was like swimming with only your arms on a giant, salty treadmill for 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, T was getting better and better. She whizzed past us on all 4’s, shrieking with glee with each attempt to stand up on her board and subsequent splash into the water.
Lia, meanwhile, was NOT enjoying herself. “What is the point of this?” She griped. “I thought surfing was supposed to be relaxing. This is NOT relaxing. This is exhausting. How do people do this stoned?!”
She had a point. How DO people do this stoned?!
I’m actually not particularly good at surfing, myself. I’m not even remotely athletic and both Lia and I are deeply clumsy (our poor children are doomed). I went surfing in Lima, Peru during our year-long honeymoon and fell face first onto a giant pile of rocks. As I lay cleaning my bleeding wounds, a local walked by and informed me that I was doing everything wrong, and suggested that I take a few surfing lessons.
So objectively speaking I probably shouldn’t have been teaching anyone, much less my equally-clumsy, accident-prone wife, how to surf.
…And then we saw the jellyfish
Once she got far enough out to catch a wave, Lia was exhausted. Her arms were tired. She was still anxious and overstressed from too much social interaction and not enough alone time. And when she gets frustrated and overwhelmed like this…. well, she’s not a joy to be around.
As I tried to give her tips on catching waves and she attempted over and over again without success, her frustration mounted.
It was like trying to make a sandcastle out of dry, cranky sand. Not only was surfing not coming naturally to her – it is, admittedly, not the easiest sport in the world – but she was falling apart by the minute from the stress of failure mounting on top of everything else
That’s when she saw a single jellyfish floating in the wave in front of her.
Stand up paddleboarding in the harbor at Morro Bay, California, which is much more relaxing than surfing, as it turns out.
The jellyfish waved a single, rubbery tentacle at her. It winked one beady little jellyfish eye in her general direction. It was the tiniest, cutest little jellyfish ever.
Lia was convinced that this jellyfish was going to kill her.
“JELLYFISH!!!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “GET OUT OF THE WATER!!!!!”
All of the other surfers in the water nearby immediately perked up. Is there a shark!??! Nope. The locals shook their heads and swam calmly away from the teeny baby jellyfish.
I tried to calm her down. “Honey, it’s just one little jellyfish,” I reassured her.
But I was wrong. There was a very small armada of jellyfish on the wave, gently bobbing in Lia’s general direction, waving their noodley tentacles menacingly.
Lia was having none of it. She thrashed and flailed as fast and as hard as she could towards the shore.
Lia is actually a damn good swimmer. But she had an anchor attached to her ankle: a giant, heavy, bulky foam surfboard.
It was like watching a loony toon gag where a character tries to run but the rug keeps slipping up underneath them.
I helpfully unstrapped her from her board and she took off like a shot, screaming profanities about surfing, me, and jellyfish all the way.
Lia says: Tell me you wouldn’t run screaming if you saw these motherf*ckers in a wave coming directly towards your face. According to Jeremy, THESE jellyfish are dangerous. Jellyfish 101, y’all.
Left in the water with the mini jellyfish armada, I realized that they were barrel jellyfish – a completely harmless jelly. I helpfully informed her of this fact when I returned to shore.
Uncomforted, Lia pointed out that knowing what types of jellyfish are dangerous by sight is some California-ass bullshit. Apparently teaching jellyfish safety isn’t part of the school curriculum in Kentucky. Go figure.
Why Lia Freaked out Over Surfing
After a half hour of “I could have DIED, Jeremy!” she calmed herself down, and we talked.
She explained to me that her high level of frustration with the whole surfing excursion had little to do with surfing, but were being magnified by external factors. She never got a chance to decompress from all of the socialization we’d been doing, so she was feeling overwhelmed and anxious. We were both feeling that constant travel rush to spend all of our time doing fun activities on our trip and had carved out no time to relax and unwind. And she felt a little bit like a Kentucky farm girl when I was with my California buddies, which made her feel even more unsure about trying out something as alien to her as surfing.
Perhaps the biggest contributing factor to her freak-out was that as a fat person she was feeling like maybe she wouldn’t be able to surf. A quick aside: neither I nor Lia use the term “fat” pejoratively, nor do we feel that it is a negative descriptor; rather it is a neutral statement of fact. We’re both comfortable with fatness. I’m not insulting Lia’s body here. Aside over.
Sports, especially sports that are primarily enjoyed by beautiful, tanned model types like surfing, aren’t terribly inclusive of fat people, and she didn’t have a feeling of “I can totally do this!” going into our adventure. She felt frustrated that despite being a decent hiker and a strong swimmer, she was feeling limited by her body.
Add the fact that wetsuits basically magnify every part of your body, and even the most confident, badass fat chicks – which Lia is – can get self-conscious. Side note, can I just point out that she looks AMAZING in her wetsuit in that photo above? Am I allowed to brag on how gorgeous my wife is on our blog?! Is that weird??
But even though she was feeling anxious, overwhelmed, out of her element, and a little bit insecure about her body’s physical abilities, she didn’t want to let her fears keep her from trying something new, even something as challenging as surfing. So she tried it.
And she found out that she didn’t particularly enjoy it very much.
And she decided that was OK.
We went back out into the water, except now it was just T and I surfing while Lia swam. The jellyfish were all gone at this point. Lia had a great time swimming and finally being able to actually use her legs in the water. She also became really good at helping me decide which waves to surf – I swim without my glasses, and like I said, I’m actually not a very good surfer, so this was SUPER helpful.
What We Learned
I started this story with a promise to explain the origin of our “is this surfing?” check-in.
Whenever one of us is upset while we’re doing something and it doesn’t totally make sense why we’re upset, we ask “Is this surfing?”
What it means is: Is this problem actually the topic we’re discussing, or is a different need of yours being ignored or not fulfilled? There’s a big difference there, and I think it’s one that often gets blurred.
Lia wasn’t really upset over surfing. I mean, she didn’t like it very much. But she was mostly upset over a bunch of OTHER stuff, and it all spilled over into her surfing experience. Add all of that brewing anxiety to a very small army of jellyfish, and you have the perfect recipe for a freakout.
Morro Bay, California is home to the extremely iconic Morro Rock. It’s also home to tons of adorable marine critters like otters and harbor seals, and is probably one of the best places to watch the sunset in the world.
Lia and I are both the type to try new things. A lot of travel types are, I think. The idea is to always say yes to a new adventure or a new experience.
But that doesn’t mean you have to enjoy the activity.
Not every first try is going to be a mind altering, earth shattering, oh-my-god-you-have-to-go-to-Burning-Man event. And that’s okay. Sometimes you just want to try it to say you tried it. Lia may never surf again (or rappel down a waterfall again, or go into a volcanic mud bath again…) and that’s fine.
More importantly, we grew stronger in our partnership and in our ability to identify one another’s needs.
Having this check-in has really helped us as we’ve been faced with more and more of that feeling of stress & being overwhelmed that comes from travelling full-time (the worst is when you’re stressed, overwhelmed, HUNGRY, and – the cherry on top – lost. Ooooh boy). We’ve learned not to take it personally when one of us is cranky or miserable. It just happens, and that’s OK.
Also, we both learned a little bit about jellyfish, which will probably come in handy one day.
On a semi-related note, after the surfing incident Lia decided she was fed up with feeling limited by her lack of athleticism and took up powerlifting. Now she’s fat and also super strong. Take that, salty arm treadmill.
Have you ever tried something new and totally hated it? Tell us your story in the comments!
Pssst: Looking for more experiences in California? Check out these other posts we’ve written!
- 12 Adorable Things to do in Morro Bay, California: A Local’s Guide
- 12 Charming Things to Do in Cayucos, California
- The 11 Best Wineries in Paso Robles, California
- 8 Quintessential Places to Visit on California’s Central Coast
FOLLOW US!
Get the FREE Travel Planning Guide
Need some help planning your next adventure? Subscribe and we'll send you our FREE 22-page Travel Planning Guide. The guide includes everything from the hacks we use to save money on travel to 3 printable packing lists. We'll also send our favorite travel tips straight to your inbox!
![[SAN FRANCISCO] The Gold Rush. The Summer of Love. Silicon Valley. San Francisco is a chameleon city: every few decades it changes, morphing into whatever the next Big Thing is and attracting idealists, inventors, and forward-thinkers. It's a city of beauty, joy, art, and innovation.
.
The story of San Francisco is written up and down its steep, winding streets. You'll feel the history of San Francisco as you're climbing Coit Tower for sweeping views of Alcatraz and the Bay, or taking Golden Gate Bridge selfies at Baker Beach (just watch out for nude photo-bombers in the background). You'll feel it as you're warming up with a steaming bread bowl full of clam chowder at Fisherman's Wharf, or kickin' it with the hippies in Haight-Ashbury who came in 1969 and never left. Reading beat poetry in Jack Kerouac Alley. Enjoying a sweet, soft coconut bun from a tiny bakery in Chinatown. Admiring the beautiful, powerful street art in the Mission district. Celebrating marriage and gender equality in the Castro. Trying to figure out if that's Mark Zuckerberg or just some other techie dude in a Facebook hoodie in the Financial District (I guess that's not history... yet). Each neighborhood in the city tells its own story.
.
San Francisco also has its problems: rampant homelessness. Gentrification. Diminishing diversity. Corporate interests pushing the city forward without enough consideration of its long-term residents. Insane rent prices.
.
It is a city that reflects America's extremes: you can feel the divide between the wealthy, zipping around on hoverboards or private cars and ordering everything from dinner to housekeeping on their smartphones; and those who are struggling to make ends meet - or struggling to survive on the streets.
.
Although we live in Oakland, we have a lot of love for San Francisco and its complex past & present. You should visit and decide what you think of it yourself! We've got a post about where to stay when you visit, built on Jeremy's decade of experience as a local and a mindful approach to San Francisco's many complexities - link in bio.
.
What do you associate with San Francisco? Have you ever been? Drop us a comment below!](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/8a9baaae44a32f2d3eeab63cfe008980/5DDFA537/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.135.1080.1080a/s640x640/67936545_442033469734625_6728412070039651574_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "[SAN FRANCISCO] The Gold Rush. The Summer of Love. Silicon Valley. San Francisco is a chameleon city: every few decades it changes, morphing into whatever the next Big Thing is and attracting idealists, inventors, and forward-thinkers. It's a city of beauty, joy, art, and innovation.
.
The story of San Francisco is written up and down its steep, winding streets. You'll feel the history of San Francisco as you're climbing Coit Tower for sweeping views of Alcatraz and the Bay, or taking Golden Gate Bridge selfies at Baker Beach (just watch out for nude photo-bombers in the background). You'll feel it as you're warming up with a steaming bread bowl full of clam chowder at Fisherman's Wharf, or kickin' it with the hippies in Haight-Ashbury who came in 1969 and never left. Reading beat poetry in Jack Kerouac Alley. Enjoying a sweet, soft coconut bun from a tiny bakery in Chinatown. Admiring the beautiful, powerful street art in the Mission district. Celebrating marriage and gender equality in the Castro. Trying to figure out if that's Mark Zuckerberg or just some other techie dude in a Facebook hoodie in the Financial District (I guess that's not history... yet). Each neighborhood in the city tells its own story.
.
San Francisco also has its problems: rampant homelessness. Gentrification. Diminishing diversity. Corporate interests pushing the city forward without enough consideration of its long-term residents. Insane rent prices.
.
It is a city that reflects America's extremes: you can feel the divide between the wealthy, zipping around on hoverboards or private cars and ordering everything from dinner to housekeeping on their smartphones; and those who are struggling to make ends meet - or struggling to survive on the streets.
.
Although we live in Oakland, we have a lot of love for San Francisco and its complex past & present. You should visit and decide what you think of it yourself! We've got a post about where to stay when you visit, built on Jeremy's decade of experience as a local and a mindful approach to San Francisco's many complexities - link in bio.
.
What do you associate with San Francisco? Have you ever been? Drop us a comment below!")
![[BEACH PEOPLE] Some people are born to be on the beach. All year long, they dream about dipping their toes in bright blue water and frolicking on soft white sand, and they return from their beach vacation with sun-kissed skin, positively glowing with beachy bliss.
.
I envy those people.
.
While they’re happily soaking up the sun, I’m busy being burned to a crisp, accidentally inhaling mouthfuls of sand, swallowing saltwater, freaking out because I saw one single jellyfish, yanking tangles out of my hair, and trying to get sand un-stuck from places that sand should never, ever be.
.
I am truly the least graceful person who has ever been on a beach. And it doesn’t help that finding a decent swimsuit as a size 16, almost 6-foot tall Amazonian woman is an exercise in torture and frustration (what is this, a bikini bottom for ANTS?!). Honestly, somehow I find it easier to pack for a trip to the literal Arctic Tundra than a day at the beach.
.
Which is why I began my 3 days of beachy bliss in the San Blas Islands off the coast of Panama by complaining. It was hot. It was sticky. There was sand EVERYWHERE. There weren't enough hammocks. There was too much sun. There were crabs (aka giant armored spiders) leaping around doing little crab waltzes or whatever. There was only electricity for an hour or so a day. There was no WiFi at all. I was convinced that this was hell.
.
Clearly, it was not hell. But it took me a bit to adjust to being constantly covered in sunscreen and saltwater. By the end of our 3rd day in San Blas, I was in full relaxation mode: I hadn't worn shoes in 3 days, my hair was in goddess-mode, and I'd sent off at least 53 emails via my crappy Panamanian SIM card that said "I'm on an island with no electricity or WiFi, so I'll have to get back to you later." I was officially in Island Mode, and for one glorious, shining moment, I finally understood Beach People. (I will never be able to accept crabs, though. Crabs are horrifying.)
.
Are you Beach People or would you prefer to cozy up to the fireplace in a mountain lodge with me?](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/5d9a4e126269bdfe72039acf23933817/5DE2F442/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.135.1080.1080a/s640x640/65644919_2534245056640344_7143638401448131207_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "[BEACH PEOPLE] Some people are born to be on the beach. All year long, they dream about dipping their toes in bright blue water and frolicking on soft white sand, and they return from their beach vacation with sun-kissed skin, positively glowing with beachy bliss.
.
I envy those people.
.
While they’re happily soaking up the sun, I’m busy being burned to a crisp, accidentally inhaling mouthfuls of sand, swallowing saltwater, freaking out because I saw one single jellyfish, yanking tangles out of my hair, and trying to get sand un-stuck from places that sand should never, ever be.
.
I am truly the least graceful person who has ever been on a beach. And it doesn’t help that finding a decent swimsuit as a size 16, almost 6-foot tall Amazonian woman is an exercise in torture and frustration (what is this, a bikini bottom for ANTS?!). Honestly, somehow I find it easier to pack for a trip to the literal Arctic Tundra than a day at the beach.
.
Which is why I began my 3 days of beachy bliss in the San Blas Islands off the coast of Panama by complaining. It was hot. It was sticky. There was sand EVERYWHERE. There weren't enough hammocks. There was too much sun. There were crabs (aka giant armored spiders) leaping around doing little crab waltzes or whatever. There was only electricity for an hour or so a day. There was no WiFi at all. I was convinced that this was hell.
.
Clearly, it was not hell. But it took me a bit to adjust to being constantly covered in sunscreen and saltwater. By the end of our 3rd day in San Blas, I was in full relaxation mode: I hadn't worn shoes in 3 days, my hair was in goddess-mode, and I'd sent off at least 53 emails via my crappy Panamanian SIM card that said \"I'm on an island with no electricity or WiFi, so I'll have to get back to you later.\" I was officially in Island Mode, and for one glorious, shining moment, I finally understood Beach People. (I will never be able to accept crabs, though. Crabs are horrifying.)
.
Are you Beach People or would you prefer to cozy up to the fireplace in a mountain lodge with me?")
![#ad [Trigger Warning: Eating Disorder] It took me a long time and a lot of hard work to love my body. Before my body and I loved each other, we were at war. I denied my body food. I mutilated my beautiful skin. And I attacked my own mind, verbally abusing myself from within in a torrent of vitriol, hate, and anger.
.
In turn, my body rebelled. It ceased all non-vital functions, like growing my hair and nails, or menstruating. It denied me control of my own emotions, debilitating me with unpredictable fits of panic and terror. It focused my mind so intently on food that I had difficulty concentrating on anything else. And when the battle was at its worst, when I had denied my body even a single bite of food for over a week, my body retaliated by shutting down the functions of my heart.
.
I was only 16 years old when my heart rate plummeted to 30 beats per minute. A doctor told me to start eating again, or I would die. I was dangerously underweight. But I made the decision to live.
.
I don't talk too much about my ED because it makes me so incredibly sad. Because today, my body and I have a beautiful relationship. I worship my body, and it loves me right back. I treat my body with respect and it repays me with strength, endurance, and resilience. Together, we are an incredible team, capable of achieving any challenges or goals we dream up. And it makes me so sad to think back to the time when we weren't.
.
But it's important for me to talk about it, openly and publicly, because I know some of y'all out there are struggling too. And I want to let you know that it's OK, I've been there - and it doesn't always have to be this way.
.
No matter where you are in your journey to self-love, I want to challenge you to make peace with your body today. If you two are at war, call a truce. If you are reconciling, show yourself a little extra love today. One thing that helped me immensely during my recovery was to look at beautiful, positive images of women whose bodies looked like mine. So today, I'm following body-positive Instagrammers (got any faves?) and browsing @CaciqueIntimates!
.
Tell me what you'll be doing to make peace with your body today!
.
#FortheLoveofCurves](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/e447022c2d01bd83a732a7bc2cc5270f/5DE4AEC0/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.134.1080.1080/s640x640/67688744_1118377025017476_7306756110191464725_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "#ad [Trigger Warning: Eating Disorder] It took me a long time and a lot of hard work to love my body. Before my body and I loved each other, we were at war. I denied my body food. I mutilated my beautiful skin. And I attacked my own mind, verbally abusing myself from within in a torrent of vitriol, hate, and anger.
.
In turn, my body rebelled. It ceased all non-vital functions, like growing my hair and nails, or menstruating. It denied me control of my own emotions, debilitating me with unpredictable fits of panic and terror. It focused my mind so intently on food that I had difficulty concentrating on anything else. And when the battle was at its worst, when I had denied my body even a single bite of food for over a week, my body retaliated by shutting down the functions of my heart.
.
I was only 16 years old when my heart rate plummeted to 30 beats per minute. A doctor told me to start eating again, or I would die. I was dangerously underweight. But I made the decision to live.
.
I don't talk too much about my ED because it makes me so incredibly sad. Because today, my body and I have a beautiful relationship. I worship my body, and it loves me right back. I treat my body with respect and it repays me with strength, endurance, and resilience. Together, we are an incredible team, capable of achieving any challenges or goals we dream up. And it makes me so sad to think back to the time when we weren't.
.
But it's important for me to talk about it, openly and publicly, because I know some of y'all out there are struggling too. And I want to let you know that it's OK, I've been there - and it doesn't always have to be this way.
.
No matter where you are in your journey to self-love, I want to challenge you to make peace with your body today. If you two are at war, call a truce. If you are reconciling, show yourself a little extra love today. One thing that helped me immensely during my recovery was to look at beautiful, positive images of women whose bodies looked like mine. So today, I'm following body-positive Instagrammers (got any faves?) and browsing @CaciqueIntimates!
.
Tell me what you'll be doing to make peace with your body today!
.
#FortheLoveofCurves")
![[FLASHBACK] We landed in Cartagena, Colombia for the first time ever on July 11th, 2016. The day before, we packed up what was left of of our belongings, said a tearful goodbye to our neighborhood cat friend Jasper, and boarded a plane to Cartagena, with no idea what to expect from the next year of travel.
.
When we stepped onto the tarmac the Cartagena heat smacked us full on in the face. We were ill prepared for it. We were also ill prepared for the water we couldn't drink, the food we weren't quite sure how to order, the language we were struggling to speak, the culture that felt so unfamiliar to us, and the utter overwhelm of changing everything about our lives and giving up the comforts of a home we'd made for ourselves just to chase a crazy dream I'd been holding onto for a few years.
.
We spent that first night in Cartagena cuddled up in one uncomfortable bed in our hostel dorm, crying. (We also tearfully sent an email to our cat friend's owners to ask if we could Skype with Jasper. They did not respond.)
.
This trip, our 3rd visit back to Cartagena, felt like a world apart from that first miserable night. We were joined by a group of 16 high school students and 3 of Jeremy's amazing co-educators on our @take_flyte_org trip. We brought the group to dinner at our favorite local restaurant (La Casa de Socorro) and insisted they order our favorite dish (seafood soup). As we explored Cartagena together we pointed out murals on the walls that had changed over the years, new developments being built, restaurants we loved, our favorite picturesque alleys in Getsemani, even the hostel dog we'd played with at that very first hostel so many years ago (he didn't remember us). We greeted Cartagena like an old friend and lovingly introduced her to Jeremy's students.
.
3 years ago, we were afraid that we'd ruined our lives by quitting our jobs and giving up perfectly good lives to seek out adventure on a whim. Little did we know that our paths - both personal and professional - would take us back to Cartagena again and again. Cartagena is our lucky city!
.
Have you returned to a place years later? How had you & the place you visited changed? Drop us a comment!](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/8510a401e0dde9bef0f0dc8efd38f7bd/5DE32002/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.135.1080.1080a/s640x640/66217194_2311686425735958_7775172171184034345_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "[FLASHBACK] We landed in Cartagena, Colombia for the first time ever on July 11th, 2016. The day before, we packed up what was left of of our belongings, said a tearful goodbye to our neighborhood cat friend Jasper, and boarded a plane to Cartagena, with no idea what to expect from the next year of travel.
.
When we stepped onto the tarmac the Cartagena heat smacked us full on in the face. We were ill prepared for it. We were also ill prepared for the water we couldn't drink, the food we weren't quite sure how to order, the language we were struggling to speak, the culture that felt so unfamiliar to us, and the utter overwhelm of changing everything about our lives and giving up the comforts of a home we'd made for ourselves just to chase a crazy dream I'd been holding onto for a few years.
.
We spent that first night in Cartagena cuddled up in one uncomfortable bed in our hostel dorm, crying. (We also tearfully sent an email to our cat friend's owners to ask if we could Skype with Jasper. They did not respond.)
.
This trip, our 3rd visit back to Cartagena, felt like a world apart from that first miserable night. We were joined by a group of 16 high school students and 3 of Jeremy's amazing co-educators on our @take_flyte_org trip. We brought the group to dinner at our favorite local restaurant (La Casa de Socorro) and insisted they order our favorite dish (seafood soup). As we explored Cartagena together we pointed out murals on the walls that had changed over the years, new developments being built, restaurants we loved, our favorite picturesque alleys in Getsemani, even the hostel dog we'd played with at that very first hostel so many years ago (he didn't remember us). We greeted Cartagena like an old friend and lovingly introduced her to Jeremy's students.
.
3 years ago, we were afraid that we'd ruined our lives by quitting our jobs and giving up perfectly good lives to seek out adventure on a whim. Little did we know that our paths - both personal and professional - would take us back to Cartagena again and again. Cartagena is our lucky city!
.
Have you returned to a place years later? How had you & the place you visited changed? Drop us a comment!")
Great travel/couple story! Surfing is not easy and you do need killer core strength to pull it off. (How do those stoner dudes do it???) My husband and I went to a learn-to-surf camp in Costa Rica one year. We’re from the landlocked prairies so this was definitely something new. Our first lesson was on land. 🙂 The location of this surf camp was great as it had a long low ripple of waves close to shore. We were both able to get up and surf the little waves. I know for sure that if I had started out in the deeper water I would have been quickly frustrated like Lia.
That sounds awesome! I’m considering trying again in Huanchacho, Peru. There’s a surf school here with the guarentee that if you don’t stand up during your lesson, the lesson is free. It sounds like a challenge that I win either way! We’ll see if I dare to try again…
I love the way you tell this story. It makes me want to meet you guys. Hahaha my wife and Lia would get a long so well and I with you.
Love story-time posts like this! I’ve never tried surfing, and I don’t think I ever will. My husband’s Aussie (myself Canadian) so I think us trying out surfing would look very similar to your experience! (Plus there’s jellies here that can kill you in under a minute and they’re essentially invisible. Nope!)
But Lia, I totally feel your pain. As a fellow introvert prone to anxiety, I would flip out over seeing jellyfish and have a meltdown from social exhaustion as well. It’s a real thing! It’s a great point to know your partner’s “triggers” that cause them to have the emotional control of a toddler.
Thanks for sharing!
You get me!! Note to self: NEVER go surfing in Australia EVER. Ahhh!
This post is one of my favorite of yours! Hilarious. Also, I feel the same way Lia does about wetsuits—and I’m a diver. It doesn’t matter how skinny or how fat you are, neoprene is just not comfortable or confidence-inducing. Hence why I won’t dive (or surf) in California and prefer being in the Caribbean waters where a suit isn’t necessary!
And my husband is an introvert who socializes more than I probably should force him, too, so I also understand the need for decompression time.
Thanks Kristin! You get me, girl 😉
Side note: I also learned how to surf in Hawaii and felt similarly frustrated with the whole experience. And there wasn’t even an armada of jellies involved either!