I'm laying on my bed in a small room on the 4th floor of my new room in Miraflores. In 2 weeks I plan to be in Cusco, exploring ancient ruins like Machu Picchu for my week off. I've grown to like this place; I'm sharing it with ~6 other International travelers, it has a nice rooftop right outside my window, and it's no-frills cheap. $280/month rent. Beats the hell out of $850/mo in NYC.
Drop Machu Picchu. Drop Patagonia. Drop festival in Rio de Janeiro. I'm going to India!
I'm switching tabs back-and-forth between launching nodes in aws and researching bus routes for my next 6 months in South America: Valparaíso, Buenos Aires, Los Ríos, Christmas in Torres del Paine (Patagonia), Montevideo, Festival in Rio de Janeiro. I'm excited as I read through the internet travel guides and multi-day, international bus routes.
My boss sends me a message. I expect he's going to yell at me for signing-off for an hour during lunch. Instead, he asks, "Would you be interested in working in India for a couple months?"
Drop the phone. Drop everything. Drop Machu Picchu. Drop Patagonia. Drop festival in Rio de Janeiro. I'm going to India!