Justine Trubey recently returned to the States from southeast Asia. If you’re interested in traveling off the well-worn tourist path and have questions about personal safety in places where you don’t speak the language or even read the alphabet — read on!

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I was 47 and I was totally burnt out after 4 years working at a startup. I realized that I’d done all of these things for myself around the betterment of my career and my family, but nothing towards the betterment of society.

As an executive in publishing, I spent a lot of time trying to get brilliant, educated, accomplished women to believe in themselves. I decided to take some time to see what women’s empowerment looks like in a different environment.

Looking for volunteer opportunities, I found Rachna Satrei, an NGO in Cambodia with a mission that matched mine exactly: Women’s empowerment through economic independence.

In Cambodia, a poem called the chbab srey (or “norms for women”) has taught for centuries that women must be subservient to men. This has been passed down from generation to generation. So the woman who founded Rachna Satrei is stepping outside of the norm.

During my time there, I raised a good deal of money for the organization. I worked 5 days a week, and usually went out at night. Compared to working at a startup, it felt like a part-time job!

After volunteering in Cambodia for 3 months, I visited friends in Europe. While there, I met a guy who rode his bike from Switzerland to Cambodia. He inspired me to want to experience a place that deeply. So I went back to southeast Asia and did a solo motorbike tour.

When I told my husband that  I planned to do a solo motorbiking trip, he was terrified I would come home broken or in a box. But at the same time, he didn’t want to be the reason that I didn’t do it. So he’s glad I did it, but he’s also glad it’s over.

Instead of riding a 700-pound European bike like so many foreigners, I chose a Honda 150, which was small enough that I could pick it up on my own. Still, the motorcycle trip was scary all the time. It was absolutely terrifying — much more dangerous than I even let on to my husband. But it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever done. And I’m living a better life as a result of it. My friends notice that I’m different now; even my voice is different!

I did 2500 miles in 19 days. I was so scared all the time of dying so far from home, scared of getting flat tire or hitting a kid or a dog or a chicken. Mostly I was afraid that I would get knocked off my bike and really hurt and broken in a way that would keep me from living this amazing life that I realize that I have.

Was it easy to meet people?

I’m insanely social. I’m pretty gregarious and fearless when it comes to meeting people. But I didn’t meet a lot of people while I was on the road. It’s really hard to meet locals when you don’t speak the language, and there weren’t a lot of foreigners where I went. In my day-to-day life, I was craving that interaction I’d had back in New York: the inside jokes, the puns, the wise-cracking, the easy back and forth.

Every Aussie ever and half the europeans do this loop in southeast Asia or doing a year-long bike trip. When you’re on a motorcycle you’re part of that group. And we were really happy to meet each other when it happened, but we’re all kind of doing our own thing. And I was at least 20 years older than almost all of them!

So even though communicating with friends and family back home is simple now — thanks to WhatsApp, FaceTime, and all the other ways — I still went through periods of deep longing and loneliness.

At one point, I even got on Tinder to find friends!

Did you ever feel unsafe as a woman alone?

Overall I did not feel unsafe.  My solo trip was scary not because I was a woman alone, but because I was going down steep hills where I was literally sliding off my seat, with traffic weaving around me, people walking into the road, buses turning, surrounded at times by tuk tuks and bicycles, the dirt and the gravel, a little kid who runs out in front of you, a noodle truck turning a corner suddenly.

The only time I felt super uncomfortable being a woman alone was in Bangladesh. I was meeting my friend Tom at the train station there. It’s a muslim country and I know I look like a foreigner from a million miles away. So I tried my best to dress appropriately. I had a scarf on my head and was covered in loose clothing. A man came over to me and asked why I was in the country. Pretty soon, there was a crowd of people, mostly men, asking me why I was in the country, surrounded by them felt insanely uncomfortable. After a while, another man came over and made them move away. That was the only time I ever felt uncomfortable.

What were some of the downsides?

Eating on the street, I’d often end up with this crazy food and not know how to pay for it. I felt overwhelmed all the time. I had a day where I hated everything that I’d loved the day before. I screwed up the traffic circle, with horns beeping all around me. I couldn’t get my noodles without the egg in it. I was overwhelmed by loneliness. I was pissed that I didn’t understand anything!

Fortunately, that feeling didn’t last more than I day for me. I learned to say to myself, “Okay. Today sucks. Totally. So hopefully tomorrow will be better.”

And because Thailand is so affordable for a Westerner, on an especially crappy day, I could decide to eat a grilled cheese sandwich and a milkshake in an air-conditioned restaurant instead of eating my usual fly-covered pork on the street.

Even though I was wearing body armor, boots, and long pants, I burned myself on my motorcycle. The burn got terribly infected, so I went to a wound cleaning clinic in Thailand, which ironically was pretty dirty, not what you would expect a medical establishment to look like.

I was sick a lot of the time; I lost a lot of weight. I wore the same three pairs of underwear — inside/outside, wash and wear. I spent a lot of time hating myself for not being part of the negotiation society. I felt stupid bargaining over $3, which was not a lot of money to me. But I also felt not bad bargaining over it, when I was culturally required to do so.

At any other time in my life, I would have fought against making big cultural mistakes. But when you decide to go somewhere that’s really different, you have to appreciate what they’re doing and know your place in it. It’s not your place, so of course, you’re going to fuck up all the time.

What was your typical day like?

On the motorcycle trip, I’d ride all day, get off the road at around 4 p.m., then read, and shower. Then I’d find a restaurant or bar to hang out in that evening. Sometimes I’d meet with people, but mostly not. I’ve been married for over 20 years, so I’m used to collaborating. I sometimes wanted someone else to choose where to eat at night.

It wasn’t hard to find places to stay, find gasoline, or get fed. Every little town has a store with a stand with little Jack Daniels bottles filled with liquid; that’s their gas station!

Generally, I smoked too much and drank too much. But really during the road trip I could do what I wanted. If I wanted to stay up until 1 a.m. dancing in a reggae bar at 105 degrees, I could do it. I had nowhere else to be. No one needed me; no one wanted to find me. It was spectacular fun to have that for several months.

What was the food like?

Thai food is the best! It’s much, much, much better than Cambodian food. I love to eat on the street, and I will pretty much eat anything, try anything unless I already know I don’t care for it, like stuffed frogs. So much Asian food is take-away. People often don’t have a kitchen, more like a shed in the back with a gas burner and charcoal.

Every time I went to the market in Cambodia I’d swear I’d never eat again. The smells! The flies! On the other hand, it was important to see where your food comes from: That is a pig; this is what that person has done to it; this is the meat that results from what that person has done to the pig. Americans are good at ignoring where their food comes from. But it feels more honest to me to see that stuff up close. It’s just not always that appetizing.

There’s a lot of ritual around food. Everyone has a house that has a little box in front of their house, so you know they’re serving something. They take some broth and noodles and put it in a bowl with vegetables and pork balls and some sauce. It’s two ladies who made this stuff in their backyard.

Even in Buddhist countries, when you try to order something vegetarian you’ll sometimes see a fish eye floating in your broth. But what do you do when your boss gives you a special treat of lung and heart meat skewers? And what do you do when your tuk-tuk driver takes you home to meet his mother, and they have no money, and they serve you something. Do you eat it? Of course, you do! To refuse it would be a huge insult.

What’s next for you?

I had plans to travel to South America, but a friend in L.A. offered me a job opportunity with a huge social mission that was too good to pass up. So I came back to the States to start that job. I’ll be in Los Angeles for the next year; my husband plans to be here at least half of the time.

This is the fourth time my husband and I have lived apart. But we’ve been married for 22 years and we have a commitment in the traditional sense. It’s the most fantastic thing to do your own thing and then come back together refreshed and happy.

What did you learn? 

I learned an enormous amount this year. During the trip, I realized the stupid good fortune that I have as an American, and second a white American. I have a greater appreciation for the agency and choices I am able to make as a result of where and how I was born.

This was also a chance to be anything that you want to be. For instance, I’m a planner, so I got to experiment with what happens when I don’t make plans. What happens when I’m just planning the night beforehand? I’d figure out where I wanted to go next, and how many days I wanted to stay. I really challenged myself to go where my feet led me. I learned that it often costs more money that way.

Justine’s advice for women considering going to southeast Asia

Embrace the extraordinary awkwardness at every moment! I think you’re going to have a less stressful time once you drop the expectation that you’re going to understand anything that’s ever happening.

When my mom was visiting me, we took a bus trip. At one point, the bus pulled over and the driver got out and walked away. My mom was like, “What’s happening?” And I said, “I dunno.” He got back on at some point and we carried on. She asked me, “What just happened?” And I said, “I dunno.”

And my mom loved it. She said, “Why didn’t anybody tell me!? This is the coolest place ever!”

Southeast Asia is amazingly accessible. Depending on where you are, you can choose to use your money to live on any level. You can use your money to live like a westerner, get massages every day, you can absolutely do that in Thailand unless you’re in remote areas. You can splurge and instead of $16/night for a hotel, you can pay $20/night to get air conditioning. You can eat local or not. In Cambodia, you can live very comfortably for $500/month.

Here’s my advice:

• Eat on the street.
• Accept the awkwardness and sink into it.
• Don’t be afraid to fuck up or look stupid.
• Don’t think you are going to understand everything.
• Love the fact that it’s never going to go the way that you expect.
• Think twice before riding any two-wheeled vehicles. But if you aren’t afraid of it, it’s an amazing way to get around.
• Be open to what you see.
• Respect the culture and try not to piss anybody off.

Related stories from Justine

• Women’s Work about Justine’s time at Rachna Satrei
• Rock, Moto, Scissor: Riding in Nepal
• That Time a Middle-Aged Married Woman Tried Tinder in Cambodia

Deb Linehan is a life coach at the New Life Foundation, a mindfulness-based recovery program in Chiang Rai, Thailand, which is a 3-hour bus ride north of Chiang Mai.

So what’s your travel story?

Before coming to Thailand, I hadn’t traveled a lot in life at all. In my 20s and then again in my 30s, I went on a trip to Europe, a place that was fairly safe and easy to get around.

I’m 46 now. When I turned 45, I got hit with the travel bug. It was like “it’s now or never.” I’m single, with no kids never been married. (That’s not a sad thing for me; my life has gone exactly the way I’ve wanted it to.) And I was at a point in my life where I didn’t have anything holding me back—no mortgage, no student loan debt. So I was able to cut the cord and just go.

I didn’t have the resources to just fly around and travel. I needed to figure out how to support myself while seeing different parts of the world. I’m in the beginning stages of figuring that out.

I’m a life coach. Right now I work with people in addiction recovery. The New Life Foundation is a community in Chiang Rai for people in recovery—from grief, burnout, depression, anxiety, as well as addiction. It’s a place where people come to further their mindfulness practice. I have a lot of autonomy. I’m able to work within a team and independently, which is really awesome.

I live at the Foundation, so my room and board is taken care of. I get a small stipend. So I’m basically breaking even. But it’s so freeing compared to how I was living in the States. I was living behind the eight ball, always trying to make ends meet. This is such a beautiful opportunity. I can just live here. For the first time in my life I’m not worrying about money.

It’s been wonderful to be a part of the community here and think about what the future has in store.

What were you doing before you moved to Thailand?

I had been working in the corporate world; then I created a bridge that enable me to move into coaching. Now I’m a CCAR addiction recovery coach. I also do Danielle Laporte’s Desire Map. I do a lot of work taking people through the desire map methodology.

I also got training for hospice and palliative care at the New York Zen Center. I did my clinical at Lenox Hill Hospital. As a chaplain intern, I worked one-on-one with people in all kinds of conditions—people with a broken toe, or a broken heart, people who were actively dying. I saw the whole spectrum.

Having done hospice work—seeing day in and day out how quickly it’s over—it feels more dangerous to not catapult yourself into whatever it is you want to do.

I’ve been in addiction recovery myself for six years, so addiction recovery is near and dear to my heart. My work with hospice care is connected to addiction recovery work because I view active addition as dying. In so many ways addiction is like death; it’s a slow suicide. It’s a very scary place. But I keep thinking of that scene in Monty Python: “I’m not dead yet!”

When I’m working with someone in recovery, I see what’s possible. I see that spark in someone that’s still there. I’m able to hold the space and help them fan the flames and be with them as they deal all the things that caused their addiction.

So I did my training, but I didn’t know what was next. I was really scared. I was trying to force it, trying to get back to that place of safety and knowing what was next. My education teaches me, “It’s all going to become clear.” (I have t-shirts that say “Don’t freak out!”) Still, it was hard to just chill out.

I was talking to one of my teachers, a Zen priest at the Center. I told him, “I don’t know what’s next and I have to figure it out!” As Zen priests do, he just sat there and held the space for me to talk about it. Of course, he wouldn’t tell me what to do.

One of my teachers had run a retreat here at the Foundation. One friend had been here as a coach. Another friend had been a resident here. So I always had it in the back of my mind. My coach said why don’t you send them an email? So I did and they happened to looking for a coach at the time. So everything fell into place from there.

What’s daily life like for you in Chiang Rai? What are some of the things you like best about being there?

It’s beautiful here, very rural, with gardens and sustainable agriculture. It’s quiet, with butterflies and ducks and cows and lakes. We eat a lot of the food we grow here.

My weekday life is pretty regimented, because it follows the therapeutic community’s schedule:

• The gong goes off at 6 a.m. At 6:30, there’s yoga, mindful walk or meditation.
• Breakfast is at 7:30 in the dining hall.
• At 8:30, we hold our community meeting in a big open-air space with a roof, when we welcome new people and say goodbye to those who are leaving. We do little bit of meditation together.
• Then from 9:30 to 12:30, I meet with clients. (Residents have two life coaching sessions per week.)
• Lunch is at 12:30.
• In the afternoon, maybe I’ll hold a workshop or organize an activity.
• In the evenings we have all sorts of activities, like women’s group or men’s group or life story, where a member of the community gets up and tells their life story.
• Then there’s noble silence after 9:30 p.m.

Sometimes we’ll rent a songthaew and go into town. I’m sometimes on duty on the weekends, but otherwise it’s pretty flexible. Some weekends I go into Chiang Rai or Chiang Mai. Once I managed a retreat for one of our Buddhist teachers, then I took a week off in Chiang Mai.

In Chiang Mai, the older part of the city is surrounded by a moat. There are temples and touristy stuff for tourists and expats; there’s a big digital nomad community. Beautiful coffee shops, and the food is amazing. Then there’s the rest of the city beyond the moat, but that’s where I mostly hang out when I go to Chiang Mai.

There’s  fairly big expat community in Chiang Rai as well. It has coffee shops and restaurants, some guest houses, a health food more — like one of everything you need. It’s not quite as charming as Chiang Mai.

Are there some things you miss?

I’m realizing that I do want some sort of landing place in the States because I have a lot of connections there. I miss family and friends more than I thought I would. The thing about missing family, though, is that with Skype, WhatsApp, FaceTime, Facebook video — it’s not like being away, in a lot of ways. Communication is easy, but but the time difference makes it tricky. Plus there are times when I could call but I don’t want to disturb people who are in silence.

I also miss cooking; I don’t get to cook here because the Thai staff does most of the cooking. But we have really beautiful fresh ingredients.

What have you learned while living there?

I’ve learned to live on what’s there. Back home I was so much more of a consumer. I really leaned into the consumer thing whenever I had discomfort. So it’s helped my practice to be with discomfort and my feelings when they arrive, rather than trying to run away from them by buying something new.

Here, I have one towel and one mug that I use for cold and hot drinks. It’s empowering to learn that I don’t need so much.

It’s also enlightening to see how inexpensive some things are here. In the U.S. I was paying like $250/month for phone service. Here it’s maybe $30/month, which includes data.

What’s your social life like?

There are 50 or so residents, eight people on the life coaching team, plus other staff and volunteers. It’s a really great sociological experiment — the subgroups and subcultures, who’s drawn to whom. Our team is really strong and we have a lot of fun and we appreciate each other. We bond on a professional colleague and a friend level.

Since we all live at the center, it’s important to like the people that you work with. So its nice that we’re also friends. Friendships to a certain degree can be made with the residents. We don’t want to cross any boundaries, but there’s a friendliness. If its game night, everybody plays together. Team members are friendly and supportive.

How do you meet people outside of work?

I’m starting to form relationships outside of the community.  I’ve been starting to get to know people in the greater community, who are involved in the local recovery support groups. I could use more of that.

I was hoping that would learn more Thai, but it’s pretty challenging. We do have people from the community who are here – but we don’t have the language in common. Also, a lot of the clients are from Europe or South Africa, so we speak English with them.

It’s very challenging for me to make friends with locals. The owner of the cafe that I go to recognizes me. I can say hello and thank you to the women at the store where I sometimes buy milk or soda. We recognize each other and share big smiles, but it hasn’t gotten deeper than that. I know there are people who have been here longer, who have learned more Thai who have been invited to local people’s houses for dinner having beautiful experiences sharing dinner.

How do local people react to your being a single woman?

I haven’t gotten pushback for being single. But I do have a friend who found people were taken aback that she was a single woman traveling alone on a motorcycle.

In Thailand if you have a tattoos, the stereotype is that you’re in the mafia or some kind of organized crime. I carry around a shawl so if I find myself in the company of older folks or on a bus — the bus will often get pulled over for an i.d. check — I’ll use my shawl to cover the tattoos on my shoulder.

What’s next for you?

This is a transitional community. Nobody stays here forever, including the staff and long-term volunteers. My stay here will come to an end at some point. And then there will be the next stage. I haven’t gotten the complete download on what they looks like yet!

Thought about going to Burma for a while to do a 1- to 3-month silent retreat in one of the monasteries there. It’s been a goal of mine. I also want to check out a monastery in Australia. That’s a little more extravagant, since from here Burma is really close.

Maybe get some more education to further my coaching skills. I would love to have some experience working in a place that’s between a rehab and a sober living space. I can also see myself working in hospice care again.

Maybe later in life I’ll do something more ambitious and longer term. I always fantasized about making some type of network where there are home bases (not time shares), but some network of homes away from home that allows people to cooperate and share.

Any advice for women who are considering moving abroad on their own?

Do it, absolutely.

Start weaning now, start letting go of stuff. But if you’re coming to Thailand, know that sizes here are smaller. For example, it’s hard to buy a bra here, so bring those with you!

Get your affairs in order as far as end-of-life stuff. That was part of the process in the Zen hospice care training; we did our own end-of-life planning. That there’s a sense of freedom that comes when all of that is done!

The logistics stuff is easy to Google. Plus you’ve got Google Maps, translator apps, currency converter apps, which make it so much easier to go somewhere alone and feel safe.

So do your research, but don’t get stuck in 50 years of planning! There’s only so much research you can do.

Where to find Deb

Coach for Life | @DebLinehan

So, dear reader:
How might your work
enable you to move to abroad?

This interview touches on the longing for home and human connection. It’s a reality check for anyone who thinks that working abroad is easy.

Sheila has been in Bogotá, Columbia, for about seven months, working for the U.S. government. Before Bogotá, she worked in Nairobi, Frankfurt, and was briefly in Tokyo. Her work takes her to different countries, so she travels a lot within the region.

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Where is home for you?

I grew up near Chicago and spent summers in Wisconsin. I spent nearly 20 years in the Pacific Northwest. Home for me is the Pacific Northwest or northern Wisconsin or even Washington, DC.

Before applying for this job, I’d never even considered moving abroad. I don’t think I fully understood what I was getting into. But I went ahead and signed up, when I was 40.

I do feel like, a lot of the time I’m living abroad, I’m biding my time until I go home. I’m a nester. I love creating a home. Not everybody likes to be tied down by a house. I’m so envious of people who don’t have that need, but I need to be anchored. I like having something to go back to, so I do have property back in the States.

What’s your daily life like?

I travel a lot for work, but when I’m in town, my lifestyle is very routine. I normally work 9 to 10 hours a day plus commute. I enjoy my job, and especially the local staff I work with, but I don’t really socialize with people from work.

I really enjoy the low-key downtime in my house. I’m not going out salsa dancing every night; I’m  more likely making salad, hanging out with my dog, and going to sleep early.

How’s your Spanish?

I can get by in Spanish. My employer gave me some “diplomatic Spanish” lessons. I try to watch Spanish TV or English TV with Spanish subtitles.

When you’re younger and traveling, you have a lot of the same conversations over and over. Like where are you from, where have you traveled, what do you like to do for fun, that kind of thing. But as an adult, you have responsibilities, like managing a house. Here, I’m talking to the plumber or the dog sitter in Spanish, or explaining to the electrician that I want him to replace the electrical boxes. You don’t get that kind of language training and vocabulary in school.

What are some other challenges you’re facing now?

When I’m in the States, I have a lot of social connections and social anchors. What’s missing for me now is the soul connection. Here, I don’t have that go-to person to call up and say, “Hey let’s go out dancing!”

My trifecta for happiness is community, personal, and professional. It seems like I’ve been able to get two out of three, but not all. In Nairobi I had two: a great job and community. In Columbia, I have just one: a great job, but no community. Plus, my love life has taken a big hit!

I was delusional in thinking that living overseas would be how it was when I was younger. When you’re in your 50s and traveling for work, you’re wearing business clothes, you’re carrying your laptop. There are few instances of randomly meeting people like there were when I was traveling in my 20s with a backpack and staying in hostels.

I try not to look at my old life with rose-colored glasses. But my stay in Columbia has been very hard. Every day I think, “Why am I doing this?” I’m going to decide by December if I’m going to extend my stay. If I don’t get a better feel for the community, then I won’t extend my stay here. It’s not worth it; human connection is too important.

My feeling is, if it’s not working for you, it’s not a failure if you leave. If your needs are not being met, you should move on.

Here in Bogotá, it’s been an exceptionally hard time building a community. In Nairobi, I stepped off the plane and it happened for me socially. Finding some sort of informal network or getting involved in the community gets very difficult when you’re working all the time.

When I lived in DC, there was a bar not far from my home where I’d go have a drink; I’d usually meet someone to have a chat with. Here in Columbia, just going into a bar and starting a conversation with someone random, you don’t do that. (My 25-year-old colleagues might have a different perception.)

How have you tried to make connections with other people?

I do a lot of sports. I cycle, so I’ve met people through biking. I go on weekend bike rides when I’m out of the city. I’ve played ultimate frisbee in 25 counties, but for some reason getting into it here has been really difficult. Maybe because the communication is online and I haven’t figure out the digital communities yet.

My dog is a fat, brown Kenyan dog. Having a dog helps  with meeting people. People come up to me all the time; I’m constantly having conversations with people thanks to my dog.

I can’t say that all of my reaching out here has reaped rewards. In the expat community there are events, I find those to be challenging. When I tried to reach out to expats here, I got no responses. What helps is that there’s a new crop of people coming in at my work.

Here it’s easier to hang with locals, Columbian warm and friendly and awesome but still, people around our age have their families. They tend to do things in groups; Americans are more used to being alone.

Introverts are comfortable being alone, so if you’re introverted, you might be fine without a strong community around you. But  if you’re an extrovert, you might miss people more. As you’re thinking of moving abroad make sure you find a way to connect with people back home regularly. I spend a lot more time online here, connecting with people digitally.

It sounds tough. What are some things you like best about your life in Bogotá?

I’m grateful for the material benefits. I have financial security. I live in a beautiful apartment with 50 feet of windows facing the mountains.

I enjoy the warm Colombian people, and the weather that’s never too cold, never too hot.

The service industry is huge here. You can pretty much get anything delivered, which is key with the traffic here. I have household help. Having a housekeeper enables me to go to Pilates a few times as week without feeling guilty about leaving my dog.

What advice do you have for women who are thinking about moving abroad?

Don’t move abroad to escape.

Also, figure out what gives you the most happiest and make sure you have that in your life. Every time I go biking I’m really happy.

If you’re moving to a large city, make sure you live in a neighborhood where the things you like to do are available and easy to get to. When you’re younger, you have more energy to go out and be social on the off-chance that you meet someone you want to be friends with. Now you don’t always have the energy anymore to cross town after work. So make sure you’re living in the right area of town for your interests.

You have to get over any ageism. You might be hanging out with people in their 20s or people in their 60s. If it doesn’t already exist, the cooking club or the book club, be prepared to be the one who creates it.

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While Sheila’s current post is challenging, there are at least two mitigating factors: Because she works with other people, she’s in daily contact with others face-to-face. Also, her job gives her the option of transferring somewhere where she might have better luck building a social life.

This leads me to wonder how expats who work alone as freelancers and consultants manage to build thriving social lives. Watch this space….

So, dear reader:
Do you worry about being lonely abroad?
What are doing now to build your village?

 

This is the first of a series of expat interviews. I’ll be talking to a wide range of women in midlife who are living the expat life, asking them to share both the sublime and the hellacious sides of living abroad.

Not surprising that it took several tries to get Katt Tait on the phone. She’s not someone to stay still for long. When I caught up with her she was visiting friends and family in the States, taking in the sites at the Heidelberg Project in Detroit. More often, though, Katt can be found in western Europe. She’s performed in France, Switzerland (including the Montreux Jazz Festival), Portugal, Germany, Morocco, the U.K., Russia, Italy, and the Czech republic (I think I got them all). And she hopes to get to Korea and Vietnam in the near future.

The stereotypical global nomad is a millennial with a laptop and a remote job. Katt, however, is a seasoned woman who prefers face-to-face connections over digital ones, and whose life is centered around a dogged determination to pursue her art.

I thought this would be a conversation about travel, but it ended up being more about art and human connection, and the challenges and the joys of living a life that you want to live.

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So, Katt, how would you describe what you do?

I describe myself as a modern-day nomadic artist, an international artist. My mission is to spread joy through music around the world. That has come to include my other passions: theater and connecting with people (and connecting people with each other).

I make my living spreading joy. I can’t imagine that I will ever retire. I will always find a new way to express myself, to remind myself and others that life is precious and that life is to be lived!

Where’s home for you?

I really am at home wherever I am. People say home is where the heart is; well, my home is always with me. I’ve made little families everywhere I go. When I come, I create this sense of home and excitement and sharing. I bring a vibrance, an energy. I think people appreciate that because today a lot of people are feeling a bit stuck without realizing it.

As a nomad, community is everywhere I go. In those moments that I rest there, through the music and the art, a little community is created.

There are people who feel like life can only be lived a certain way. There are people who have told me that living the way I do is impossible, that I need to ensure my security. But I don’t believe in security; I just don’t believe that it exists.

I have a friend who lost all of her retirement savings when the market crashed in the early 2000s. Here she was 75, and she ended up having to still work. Everything that she thought was secure was not. That’s not to say you don’t plan and save — but to think that there is true security in that is false.

How and when did you start this nomadic journey?

I started the nomadic adventure in 2007. I was a radio personality at a jazz station in Seattle, plus I was singing and acting professionally. In 2004, I realized I’d been in radio for 10 years. I asked myself, “Do you want to do this for another 10 years?” The answer was no. I wasn’t sure how my artistic endeavors would support me. My job was great, but I was ready to pursue my art 100%. No more playing in the small pond.

When I told him, my older brother said, “Okay, but what’s your plan B?” I said, “My plan B is to work plan A!” I don’t have a plan B because I’m not going to fail. I fall all the time but I get up again.

So I moved to Los Angeles for a couple years, worked at a jazz station there, and continued performing. At one of my gigs, I met two musicians from Manchester, England, who invited me to play with them there. I bought my ticket. It was a round-trip ticket–but I did not plan to come back!

I only told two people, a very close friend and my brother. I didn’t want to hear anybody’s objections. Both told me to go for it. Never did I imagine where the path would lead me. I only knew it was time to pursue my dreams.

I was excited about Manchester, but as it turned out, things did not go as planned. So I wrote, sang my own songs for the first time, and contemplated my next move. When I got invited to work on a Shakespeare project, I went back to Seattle for the summer. I saved my money and bought another ticket! And I’ve been on the road ever since.

What are some of your favorite places? What do you like most about them?

Every place I’ve been, pretty much, is my favorite place. But Switzerland stands out because I have a surrogate family there. Our home is a beautiful vineyard. It’s been a family home for 100-plus years. It’s a special place. I love to be there and watch the passing of time through the changing of the seasons. The plants grow, and you feel very much connected to all that is. Plus, we have a great view of Lac Léman (Lake Geneva)!

I love Portugal, too. The people are awesome. The food is great. Besides, I love being anywhere close to the ocean. There’s a lot of music there, and great friends. I also feel very at home in Morocco, in the dust and the dirt. It’s colorful and eclectic, they have the best fruits and vegetables, and again it’s near the ocean. People I’ve met there understand that money isn’t the end all be all; they find happiness and joy despite their poverty.

What advice can you give to someone interested in moving abroad or becoming a nomad?

Ask yourself: Why do you want to move abroad? What’s your purpose? What do you hope to accomplish by being in another country? If you’re running away from something, it will be there wherever you go. If it’s to discover, then you’re on the right track.

You can change your path. You don’t have to continue in the same direction just because you started there. It’s harder now that we’re adults, with all of the constraints of all the stuff we’ve collected throughout the years.

So if you’re scared to make a big change, start with changing one simple thing every day. Change the way you drive to work; change what you eat for breakfast. That small change could trigger something in you that could illuminate or trigger something in you that moves you to make another change. So start small and then continue.

Also, don’t be afraid to do things in a new way. Think about the skills you have to share. What can you offer in exchange? Sometimes you can volunteer in exchange for housing; sometimes somebody might pay you in vegetables. Think creatively, and always be open enough to ask! Remember, it’s not always about opening your wallet and throwing money at a situation. Money doesn’t always help you make a personal connection or build bridges.

Tell me about your mission: To spread joy through music

People are meant to connect. Changing the world doesn’t have to be a grand swooping gesture. We can make the world a better place one connection at a time. If you just live your life for the moment, then people will remember you. That to me is enough because it’s energy that continues to uplift the world around you. That’s what I want my music to do: I want people to remember that we are awesome beings.

My one-woman performance, Black Magic: Songs Unchained, is about the power of black music, especially spirituals. It explores why we as black people have so much magic, how it reaches back to the slave experience. We have to celebrate that!

My current project, “Spontaneous Combustion,” is a live improvisational experience where I gather musicians, and we create music live in the moment. One instrument starts, another comes in, and before we know it we’re creating something special. Some of that has come to remind me of preaching. Sometimes the words and messages that come to me as I’m singing are about taking control of our lives, opening our minds; other times its fun things, sex — we gotta have that too!

Whatever the energy is in the air is what gives me those words. It’s a metaphor for life. When you’re available and open and willing to connect, anything is possible.

I know my readers have concerns about being lonely, but it seems like you meet people wherever you go.

It may have something to do with the way I was raised. Our house was always open. My parents helped so many people. And so many times now I have met people who have opened their homes to me.

They would say, “You’re always welcome here,” and mean it. You have to take people at their word. When people say they’re crazy, believe that they are crazy. When they say they love having you around, believe that they love having you around!

When I went to Paris, I knew no one and my money was very slim. After a few days of singing in jazz clubs, talking to people, I met one guy who offered his place for a couple of days. (No funny business; he slept on the couch.) And then I met a someone else who had a home big enough for two. I lived there for nearly nine months.

I always make sure I’m doing extra things without being asked. I try to think how I can  make their lives lighter in the moments that I’m there. I cook; I sing.

And I discovered that there was something I gave to the people I stayed with. They needed someone to hear them, compassion, and “spiritual uplift.” I’ve had people cry on me so hard from releasing their secrets, and their stories that they’d never told anyone. It’s happened to me everywhere. So I come to lift the vibrations with my music and my life philosophy.

Thoughts on “traveling while black”?

Sometimes I get asked if they like black people in this or that country. I tell them, “I don’t know whether or not they like ‘black people,’ but they might like you!”

The racism in the United States has really shaped our thinking. Your worldview as an American is not universal. That’s not to say that racism doesn’t exist other places, but we have to move into the world and believe that we’ll find our place in it.

What was one of your challenges?

In Barcelona, I was looking for clubs to take me in, but I couldn’t find the vibe for me. So I thought, well maybe I should sing on the street like I saw so many other people doing. My perception of street musicians was that it’s not a real musician; it’s just someone who needs money. But I learned that that is so not true. I met so many people who were using the street for different purposes, to hone their craft.

I was really afraid to do it, scared out of my skin. But I looked back at my mission and said, “Do you want to spread joy through music or not?”

So I did it. I went to a quiet little corner on a street where I thought no one would see me, and I sang a jazz standard. But then a couple came around the corner and told me it was beautiful — and I ran off!

Then in Paris, I was singing in nightclubs, but they didn’t want to pay me for my music. I kept resisting singing on the street, but then I would remind myself of my mission! I knew that I could reach more people singing on the street than in a club.

So I found a spot that had an overhang and great acoustics. I put down a little bag and sang for about an hour or a little more. I did it more and more, and used that time to practice my chops, send out good vibrations, and put money in my pocket. I’d make more money singing on the street like that than some of the guys I met who were playing in the clubs.

Any advice for women want to take the leap — either by pursuing their art, or moving abroad, or both — who are getting resistance, either internally or from other people?

Be clear on your mission. When you have a mission, when you know what your objective is, you don’t let anything stop you. You just have to try even if you fall on your face. Keep doing it and keep talking to people about what you’re trying to do.

It’s good to talk about your dream, but you have to be careful about who you share your dream with! Some people will tell you to put your dream in a box. So you have to choose with whom you’re really going to share your passion.

With some people, you just skim the surface; you don’t give them an opportunity to put negative thoughts in your head. But others, the right people, they can help you expand on your idea, or give you advice about how to get started.

It’s good to have people in your life who are good listeners, people who know you, who have skills that can help you. When you give the right people the opportunity to put energy behind what you want to do, the results can be really surprising.

Where to find Katt

Facebook | YouTube | Reverb Nation | Soundcloud | @experiencekatt | Blogspot

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So, dear reader:
what does home mean to you?
What questions do you have for Katt?