The population of the beautiful mile-long beach that we’re camped on grew in population today from about 9 rigs to several dozen. Over the course of the day van after van after van rolled past. At first it seemed like a coincidence but later grew more apparent that some sort of vanlife meetup is taking place. I typically seek solitude over socializing but here in Baja it’s different. People come from all over the world to travel this majestic peninsula (many shipping their vehicles across oceans to do so) and they all have a story, not to mention are stoked to be here. The energy among travelers here is magnetic and an unexpected favorite thing about this kind of trip.
This afternoon we met Nora, a warm and bubbly mother from Germany traveling with her husband and two young kids for the next year around North America. They’re enjoying an entire year of paid paternity leave. She was shocked to learn that we were traveling around Baja for the next three months, saying that Americans seem like workaholics and appear to rarely take time off the way Europeans do. She laughed when I told her we don’t really fit the mold.
This evening a super cool Canadian couple parked beside us. We learned that they’ve saved enough money to travel around the world for the next year and are starting off with four months driving their van around Mexico. We shared in collective excitement for how incredible this place is and how fortunate we feel to be here.
I’ve felt like a black sheep my entire life. Never one to easily make friends or accept societal expectations. It can feel lonely at times, marching to the beat of our own drum, but then, out of nowhere, a stranger can walk up to us on a beach in the middle of nowhere Mexico and all of sudden I’m reminded that we’re not alone in our weird way of life. These are our people. And we’re all living a damn good life.