Why?
There are a multitude of reasons we're embarking on this little adventure together. We have different answers for different people when they ask us this same, simple question, and even those answers change by the day. It's more for the sum of our reasons than any one in particular that we head off.
It's not, though, because we enjoy the process of leaving.
If we would be forced to list every major reason, it would look a little like what follows...
The challenge
One reason we feel compelled to pack up is, as Kennedy famously said, "not because it is easy, but because it is hard." The challenge of cutting ties, identifying and severing our many material attachments, and doing something dangerous intrigues and tempts us. Plunging head first into the unknown is exhilarating, sure, but it's also terrifying, and there is no end to the people who have warned us of the peril.
The fact is this: Nobody can ever know what they're capable of until they are tested. With each triumph, something subtle inside of us changes. Decisions that were once paralyzing become mundane. Challenges that were once insurmountable peaks resolve themselves through a new lens and appear possible, realistic, even easy. Our view of others changes, too. We once shared their timid caution. We once doubted ourselves. We once wrestled quietly with confidence. We begin to see our former selves in their fear.
With every met challenge our perception subtly changes, too. We can savor experiences with new vigor. Every sense becomes a little more keen. But we don't just see and smell and taste and feel more, we care more, too. Our newfound perception makes us even more sensitive to the experiences of others. As a result, we don't just live more passionately, we live more compassionately.
The simplicity
At every stage of our lives, we've traded a little less dependence for a little more responsibility. We can chart our development from childhood to adulthood as a slow acquisition of autonomy and accountability. From our first steps to our drivers' licenses, each conferral of obligation bore some attendant liberty.
But after a certain point, this seemed to stop. The burdens kept rolling in, but they no longer carried any accompanying freedom. We had doctors' bills and rent and commuting costs. We piled up mountains of electronic gadgets and clothes. We bought nice toys and entertained costly hobbies. We started surrounding ourselves with stuff, but all it got us was more complexity, more hidden costs, more responsibilities.
It wasn't very long at all until we realized that we had rapidly become slaves to our own things. Paying for, caring for, and disposing of our inanimate goods consumed so many of our resources, it began to strain our finances and our relationship. It was at this point that we decided to try to simplify our lives.
We had no idea how difficult it is to live simply, though.
We started with the root of most problems: money. The temptation of credit was omnipresent at first. Everybody was quick to tell us that we should get started early to build a good credit score. In looking, though, it became clear that the cost -- perpetual debt -- was too steep for so small a thing as a credit rating. We resolved as a first step to live within our means, never going into debt unless necessary.
This immediately cut out a number of indulgences, but as we prioritized our consumption, we realized that, aside from a warm bed and good food, we didn't have many material needs. After that first step of agreeing to live a cash-only lifestyle, it became easier and easier to pare down costs and burdens. Magazine subscriptions were canceled, since they were so rarely used. We began commuting on public transportation or biking. We restricted dining out and started cooking at home more often. We trimmed where we could without being forced to live uncomfortably.
And as we did these things, we regained something we hadn't even noticed we had lost: freedom. Our decision to reject the allure of credit left us virtually immune to the crisis that is plaguing so many people who were stretched too thin. Riding the bus meant never having to worry about traffic and gave us an extra hour or two of reading time while someone else drove. Commuting by bike meant a free workout twice a day and no more car maintenance. Dining in meant healthier, larger, better meals and a chance to enjoy each other in peace.
For the first time ever, we started saving money.
The savings were symbolic of the larger independence we had been steadily accumulating. We had more time together. We were healthier and happier than we had ever been previously. Any unforeseen problem -- a broken collar bone, an expensive quarter's worth of books -- became easier to weather because we had a slowly growing stash of money to buffer against the bad days. Besides, with no debts, it was finally conceivable that we could one day pack up and leave on a whim.
And then we thought, "Why wait?"
The travel
As we've grown up, we had begun to accept that some dreams and aspirations must be sacrificed in the name of security and stability. We had long been told that these were desirable things, that consistency and routine were good and that our reward would be delayed yet bountiful if we labored long and persevered.
But the harder we looked, the more we realized that the world is anything but secure and stable. We discovered that there is no escaping the resolute march of time and the changes it inevitably bears. We noted that the people we admired most didn't let the riches of their experience slowly accrue, they went out and gathered a fortune in memories. And so we were forced to ask hard questions of ourselves about which dreams we had been trading for the illusion of security.
We didn't like what we saw.
We both love to meet people and learn, and travel is the best way we know of to combine these pursuits. In forcing us to meet strange people on their terms, travel allows us to have a more objective view of their lives and culture, less constrained by our own unreinforced prejudices. But because we are the minority, we are also given the opportunity to see how our culture and lifestyles must look to outsiders. Travel grants us an excuse to expand on the twin virtues of empathy and introspection.
Traveling the world is a dream we both share. We have both ranged across the globe, but always for competition. For all the miles we've gathered, we haven't had the pleasure of soaking much in. Nothing would please us more than simply experiencing the many joys of travel for their own sake, no longer as the means to some other end.
The perspective
There's more to it than all that, though.
When we turn on the evening news, there's no escaping the horrific images from all corners of the world. One group of people is busy exterminating another, while a third group labors desperately under the weight of some natural disaster, poorly timed and ill-deserved. Try as we might, it's hard to feel a connection to these people because they don't look like us, they don't talk like us, they don't live like us. They're so far away and so different, they might as well be suffering on some distant planet. Removed as we are, we feel powerless to help and so we don't burden our consciences with the guilt of knowing that they endure pain even as we enjoy our conveniences (and often because of those conveniences).
And yet, as the two of us were growing up, a world and a war separated our lives. One of us huddled in basements as Serb shells rained on Dubrovnik and Mokošica, while the other played contentedly in Spokane, blissfully unaware of mortal fear and human savagery. Now that we are together, it's hard to dismiss those faces on television so easily. Their lives are rich and delicate, just like ours. Don't they deserve to live a life as comfortable and fulfilling as ours?
We would like to help those people. It's our duty as human beings to care.
So there you have it
We created this site -- as much to document the process as to cultivate support -- as we gently uproot ourselves and shake loose the accumulated dust of responsibilities and habits, necessities and indulgences. We appreciate your encouragement and hope that in some small way we can all stand up and help out.