Bourdainism: One Backpack, Solo-Trip to Double-Digit Countries to Write People’s Stories, I’ll Miss My Dog, and First Stop is Mexico, Because Four C’s

I know, I know. “You said the Four C’s were next!”

IT IS. But there’s a parallel workstream humming in the background, and it’ll make sense why this intro lives here.

My North Star is Anthony Bourdain. I even got a tattoo for him—in Peru, naturally—after “accidentally” extending my trip because Barranco, and ceviche flirted with my soul.

I scribble things wherever I go. Here’s one in a notebook, in a museum, in Lima.

This year I did the mirror thing. Faced shadows, slayed a few boss-level demons, and looted the usual: humility, discernment, boundaries. As a reward/penance, I’m choosing the obvious next quest.

The holidays are a historically depressing time for me. Lots of loss, and, well, without close family, I was always super lonely. But usually, I was lucky enough to be around families; they just weren’t mine, and while I appreciated the invitation, it made me feel lonelier than if I was just alone.

Child me will always wish her parents and adoptive parents were all in one room, sipping hot chocolate and unwrapping gifts. It just didn’t pan out for me that way.

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Between deep-tissue massages I get tarot reads—not because I need prophecy, but because it’s fun to hear the universe speak in emojis. I guess Austin’s also made me a little magical: my perfumes are now housed in cute little potions.

Last time, the reader said, “You’re the kind of person who takes life in her own hands, and makes things happen.”

I’m trying, and I’m glad the universe gave me some emoji-confidence. This spread taught me that my past was rooted in judgment: To me, it resonated with all of the changes I had to make about my life as I knew it. My present and future, was pointing to more healing and self love.

Other readers and psychics I’ve seen the past few weeks have told me that the love of my life is around the corner. I’d like to not turn that corner yet, please. But I’m open to life unfolding as it should.

I’m the healthiest I’ve been—mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Physically… look, 30 is already side-eyeing me, and my 20s athlete build isn’t returning my texts. We move.

So I’m done watching clips of Bourdain. I’m going to go live.

Over the next few months I’m hitting double-digit countries with a single backpack. Sometimes I’ll work from a hotel. Sometimes I’ll stay with strangers (the vetted kind). Sometimes I’ll sit at a kitchen table and write someone else’s story—my third workstream: I want to share with you, all of my field notes on the incredible people I’ve met as a bartender, and some of the remarkable souls I’ve crossed paths with in my life. Most importantly, I’m excited to meet new people who will inevitably transform me.

First stop: Mexico. Because that’s where the main character of the Four C’s lived. Tentative last stop: Serbia. I’ll ping-pong home between legs because I’ll miss my dog more than I’ll miss any skyline. I’ll miss friends, colleagues, and yes, my plants. Nurturing the life I’m building is part of the trip. Building roots is part of my growth journey.

Why alone? Because coordinating group travel in your 30s is a doctoral dissertation in logistics and disappointment.

Fuck that.