Time to Move On

For 19 years, I've written this blog.  

I started it after my father died. My early entries were about aging, mortality--and still feeling his presence. 

Sisters (I'm the middle child, the brunette) with Dad

My third entry was about giving my mother a bath because the month after Dad died, she fell and broke her shoulder. 

As she descended into dementia, I wrote about her life, about caregiving, about grief and love.

Scanning through my years of writing Living the Journey has made my life swim before my eyes. It's been bittersweet to see the evolution of what I wrote about. 

The first few years I focused on:

* Ailing parents (both mine and my partner's)

* Marriage equality and LGBTQ rights

In California, 2008, protesting Prop 8, which would ban same-sex marriage

* My work as a university writing professor (I hated grading papers, loved connecting to students, and appreciated the creativity and flexibility of my work)

* Meeting great visiting writers in my role as as co-director of the Center for Literary Arts

* Book reviews

* Interviews with writers and poets.

And then, one day I disappeared. My wife of 15 years had been having an affair and left me. My world was shattered.

When I returned, I wrote about heartbreak and figuring how who I was now. I wrote about being single in my 40s as a bisexual woman. I explored dating men again and, when the phoenix began rising, my renewed love for travel. 

During this time, my friends became everything. They propped me up, helped me move, became my cheerleaders. I vowed to never again take my friends for granted, and I hope I've lived up to that promise.

Then I met Dave. We both were working more than full time, but we were thrilled about creating a life together that included live music, the outdoors, friends, travel.

snowshoeing in 2010...we've now been together 16 years

We married in Hawaii, and the next year I retired from the university so I could write and work as a coach and book editor. His job ended. When the sweet house we were renting in our beloved seaside Santa Cruz went up for sale, we faced a dilemma: 

Should we reverse the retirement decision and put all of our resources into buying a house in one of the most expensive places in the world? 

We floated that idea and others--another rental, joining friends in a communal living endeavor, moving elsewhere--but it was when we hit on this that our energy surged:

How about living house-free?

This was 2012. We'd never heard of nomads--digital, retired, or otherwise. 

We'd already embraced a kind of minimalism, by living in small spaces, owning one car, and not collecting a lot of stuff. And now we decided to get rid of almost everything we owned and hit the road.

leopard encounter in Sri Lanka

We traveled in the States, Australia, India and Sri Lanka--and were sidelined for a few months when I was diagnosed with a brain tumor after having a seizure. It was a scary, soul-expanding time. (A friend said, "Honey, your life is like Knott's Landing these days!") 

staples out! (2013)

Once I was healed and we'd traveled for a year, two things happened:

* we bought a casita sight-unseen in Mexico and

* we discovered housesitting.

My sister had talked for years about how she loved Baja California Sur. She'd bought a little place and one was being built next to hers. The price was affordable for us--a fraction of what we'd have to pay to be near the beach in California--so we went for it. We liked the idea of having a home base while we continued to travel. And we figured if we didn't like it there, we could rent it or sell it. (Spoiler: 12 years later, Mexico has become home.)

Playa Los Cerritos 

Housesitting made our dream of continuing to travel sustainable. As I wrote about in this blog and in Wanderland: Living the Traveling Life, we have stayed in homes all over the world for free, taking care of people's pets. We also lived in China for a year (where I stepped out of retirement to teach university creative writing). 

The last portion of this blog, then, focused mostly on traveling as slow-mads and living in Mexico, with the heart of my quest being , "What is home?"

Now that I'm ending this blog, I'm moving my writing over to Maybe I'm Amazed, my  Substack. I'd love for you to join me there. It will always be free, and I'll be continuing to write about my obsessions:

* housesitting

* living in Mexico

* travel and staycations

* social justice

* being a woman in her 60s 

* books

* dogs 

Regarding that last topic, I haven't had my own dog since Dave and I left California 14 years ago. I've adored caring for so many pups while housesitting. Has the time come to get my own again? Stay tuned at Maybe I'm Amazed. 

It doesn't get better than dogs and books
(housesitting in coastal England, 2024)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Check out my new novel, Amazing!, which is getting great reviews.

Bye UK, Bonjour Paris

This is the 6th installment on our 8-month trip, following:

1. Colorado 

2. London/Salisbury 

3. Coastal England

4. Marple/Liverpool/Sandbach

5. Tales from Wales

Main square in Bath, England

After nearly two months in the UK, we were headed to a place I'd been waiting to experience for over 60 years: Paris. We decided to take a direct flight out of Bristol, England and build in a couple of days for the nearby historic city of Bath. Between Bath and Bristol is the village of Keynsham, where we stayed two nights in a 17th century inn that had good prices and easy access to public transport. We still had a couple of rides on our Brit Rail passes to use up.

At the ancient Roman baths

Bath is an elegant city with a fascinating history. It was amazing to walk through the Roman baths in the footsteps of people 2000 years ago. The curation of the site, including video recreations of ancient bathers, invites the feeling of time travel.

Lacock

We got a free tour of the city when two look-alike women pulled up in their tiny car, and we folded inside with their dog, Tiggy. The previous month in Sidmouth, we'd met these twin sisters, Cat(therine) and Hat(tie), and now we were reuninting in their home town of Bath.

Lacock Abbey

Cat and Hat took us to Lacock, a National Trust storybook village where scenes from Downton Abbey, Pride & Prejudice, and Harry Potter were filmed. Lacock Abbey, a gothic revival building founded in the 13th century, remained a nunnery until the suppression of the Roman Catholic institutions in England in the 16th century. After that, it became a private home. We explored the lush grounds with Tiggy romping happily in the grass. We laughed together so much, I'm pretty sure we knew each other in a past life.

Eating dinner with Maura & Anna overlooking the river.

One evening we took the train to Bristol for a sweet few hours with Anna and Maura, whom we'd met in China. This trip was becoming a reunion with people who'd taught at my university in Nanning, since we'd seen Kevin in Colorado and Paul in Liverpool. Bristol has recently been named a choice spot for expats by EatWalkLearn and Brent & Michael are Going Places. Based on the few hours we were there, I get it. The city is walk- and bike-friendly, has several universities, and is built around the river Avon.

We had considered taking the Eurostar to Paris, but the flight from Bristol was only an hour and a bit less expensive. However, after getting to the airport two-and-a-half hours before the flight, and dreamily imagining the convenience, smooth ride, and leg room of a high-speed train, we wished we'd opted for the rails. 

Oui!

But all regret evaporated when we stepped onto the streets of Paris and checked into the Hotel Henriette. I don't recall who recommended this affordable, darling place in a convenient location at the border of the 13th and 5th arrondissments, but merci whoever you are!

I was stunned to finally have made it to Paris. Can you believe I co-wrote a historical novel set during the French Revolution without having been there? My co-author was an expert in the era--and I'd done some of my own research. Because of this, I had weird deja vu moments throughout the week.

Sadly, Dave had developed a cold and a nagging leg injury, so I ended up spending a lot of time solo walking the streets. Fortunately he had been to Paris before. And while I would have loved to have experienced it all with him, I enjoyed wandering alone about 10 miles each day. I never took the metro, only a few buses because I wanted to see everything.

The first day set the tone for the week, when I discovered a tranquil rose garden behind our hotel. It was set in the Square Rene-Le Gall, a huge but magically hidden public park with shady tree-lined paths, hedges shaped like green snowmen, and a children's play area. I felt like Mary discovering the Secret Garden.

That day I wandered around a Sorbonne campus, through the Jarden des Plantes, and along the Seine where I viewed the magnificence of Notre Dame. It's under construction so I couldn't go in and in my mind saved it for another time. As I snacked on the best-ever ham-and-cheese croissant on the sidewalk at Cafe A Lacriose, it became clear this whole city is a feast.

I was stunned by the scope of it all. Everywhere I looked I saw something I could have gazed upon for hours. Every place I went, I wanted to spend a whole day there. I was already scheming on a way to return and stay for a few months.

Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Francuil, aka Geroge Sand

In Luxemburg Gardens, I whispered to George Sand that I'd been on the edge of happy tears all day. Then I bought a sugar and lemon crepe on the street and made my way back to the hotel. 

That night, Dave and I went to St. Julien le Pauvre, a gothic church on the Left Bank, for a classical piano and cello concert. Built in the 13th century, it's one of the city's oldest religious buildings. Hearing Handel, Schubert, Mozart, and Pachelbel in this 13th century building would send shivers through a statue. 

piano & cello at St. Julien's

The next night we attended another concert at the larger Egalis-St.-Germaine-de-Pres. My spirit rearranged itself as I heard Ave Maria and Vivaldi's The Four Seasons performed by a quintet. In our travels, we always seek out soul-enlivening music and dance and all the arts.  (At four months into our trip, we've gone to jam band shows in Colorado, a musical in London, a rock concert in Liverpool, a choir in Wales, a Fado show in Portugal, and flamenco in Spain.)

Earlier that day, I found 27 Rue de Fleurs, where Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas lived from 1903-1938. It was quite a moment standing there, imagining the domestic and creative life of these two extraordinary women. Here they held Saturday literary salons attended by the likes of Picasso, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Sinclair Lewis, Guillaume Apollinaire, Marie Laurencin, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Thornton Wilder, Sherwood Anderson, Georges Braque, and Henri Matisse.

Everything looks like an oil painting.

That day I walked through Montparnasse and outdoor markets, to Bon Marche. I visited the Hotel National des Invalides and gardens and crossed the Seine to Tuileries Gardens, where I savored a croque monsieur at an outdoor table and checked out a vintage merry-go-round that struck me, somehow, as quintessentially French. Maybe it was in Amelie? If not, it could have been. 

Dave rallied on Day 3 to go to Sainte-Chappelle, which he was looking forward to seeing again but was disappointed at how crowded it was on this free-entry day. But the push of people didn't diminish this jewel of a royal chapel.

I wanted French onion soup all day, every day!

We also went to Musee d'Orsay, housed in an 1898 glass-roofed railway station with a monumental golden clock. It has the largest collection of impressionist and post-impressionist masterpieces in the world. In other words, just another day in Paris! It was crowded, too, but even so I had sublime moments alone in front of Renoirs and Van Goghs--and other paintings I remember searing into my brain as a kid when I leafed through an art book my parents had on the coffee table for years.

Luxemburg Gardens

I loved Luxemburg Gardens so much that we went back together, strolling amidst the sculptures and lush flora, while people read *real* books on green chairs scattered about. 

One little corner of Sainte-Suplice

Later we made our way to Sainte-Suplice, the third largest church in the city, built in the 17th century. A service was just ending as we walked in. The orchestral Grand Organ, which is considered a national monument, boomed as people rose from the pews to watch a procession of priests in imperial garb. The church is a jaw-dropper, with Delacroix murals and soaring architecture.

My favorite piece in the Petit Palais

We also made it to the Petit Palais to view its eclectic collection of art from across centuries. And later I roamed the architecturally complex funhouse called the Center Pompidou to see the Surrealism exhibit. Being so immersed in art made me think about how humans have forever strived to express the spirit and mysteries of life, in all its horror and beauty.

One of highlights of this trip was finally getting to see Shakespeare and Company, the famous English language bookstore that first opened in another location in the 1930s. It was closed during the war by the Nazis and later reopened in its current location in 1951. It became a meeting place for expat literary life in Paris visited by writers such as Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs, Anais Nin, Richard Wright, Henry Miller, and James Baldwin.

tah dah!

Ever since reading Time Was Soft There, a memoir about a writer who lived for a time in the bookstore, I wanted to visit. The place is perfect, with its stuffed shelves, reading nooks, and a piano that someone was gently playing. I wandered around for an hour and bought Barbara Kingsolver's Pulitzer Prize-winning Demon Copperhead.

That night, I met up for dinner with a long-time Facebook connection, the poet Kaaren Kitchell, who has lived in Paris many years. While rain romantically stippled the windows and I devoured lush mushroom risotto, we talked for hours like old friends about literature and politics and people we know in common. I'd love to see her again. 

My one low-light was my tour of Versailles. Ironic, given how excited I was to see it since I'd cowritten that aforementioned novel about the French Revolution. First, no maps of the palace or gardens were provided. Instead, you had to use a QR code, useless for me since my phone didn't work there. Besides, I hate looking at screens in lieu of maps and menus. I know, I sound old. 

But beyond that, the rooms were jammed with so many people that progress was slow. From afar, everything looked sumptuous, but up close, a lot of the art and furniture and flora in the gardens was unkempt. Not one of the many fountains was running. A contrarian part of my brain laughed at how appalled the royals would have been at the plebes desecrating their possessions. I can't even find a picture I took of that day, so let me offer instead this one of the Pont Alexandre III bridge--an example of the artistry available to all everywhere you look in this city.

If you're interested in our life of housesitting, budget travel and living in Mexico, check out my books Wanderland: Living the Traveling Life and Call It Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit & Travel. 

Connecting in England

This is the fourth installment on our 8-month trip, following:

Colorado 

London/Salisbury &

Coastal England.

With Brendan & Cathy in front of their house
in Marple, England (photos by Dave Rhine).

Leaving our housesit in Sidmouth, I experienced familiar mixed feelings: excited to be moving on, sad to say goodbye to the dogs and area I loved.

Boarding the train, though, I felt that "I'm traveling" high, boosted by knowing I would soon be seeing my former colleague and dear friend, Cathy Miller. In 2018, Cathy was awarded a Fulbright as Distinguished Chair of the Humanities at the University of Manchester. While in England, she met Brendan, and they eventually married.

During the pandemic, when loneliness profoundly stung, Cathy and I started Zooming every-other-week with two other friends--and we've continued to do so to this day. Also, for a year, Cathy and I exchanged writing pages, which resulted in her historical novel and my memoir, Wanderland. 

Cathy and Brendan picked us up at the train station around the corner from their house. Built in 1908, it's an exquisite Edwardian that they've been remodeling. We benefitted from the new guest en suite. The house has so many stairs and rooms and twists and turns that once I couldn't find our room--which gave Brendan a hardy laugh.

Breakfast in Cathy & Brendan's garden.

We lucked out with sunny days and enjoyed walks in their sweet village with its pretty gardens, gingerbread houses, and Britain's highest stone aqueduct and impressive Victorian arched bridge. Narrowboats floated down the canals and through the locks. Now used for recreation and habitation, narrowboats were originally built in the 18th-20th centuries for carrying goods on the narrow canals of British inland waterways.

A narrowboat squeezing through the locks.

Our friends were fantastic hosts, plying us with food and offering the perfect balance of relaxation and activity. One day we drove for miles down narrow lanes (that sometimes required us to pull over or back up for someone to pass) to Biddulph Grange Garden. A National Trust property, Biddulph is a magnum opus of international flora, pagodas, and statues. It felt like floating through a storybook.

Brendan, Cathy & me on a Chinese bridge in Biddulph.

This was not the first time we'd hung out with Cathy and Brendan. A few years back, they were traveling in California and stayed with us at our housesit in San Diego. Over the years, we've met up with Cathy other times in the SF Bay Area, Palm Springs, and once in Mexico City. 

Walking in Marple.

I'm happy that we've shared these times and places together. This has been an unexpected part of being nomads and Mexico expats: how many of our friendships have been enriched by meeting up at places all over the world. 

Sometimes these gatherings are with longtime friends--such as recently in Colorado and London. Other times they are the hosts we've befriended as housesitters or other travelers we've gotten to know in online nomad groups. Given that we also have a community back in Baja, I feel embraced by a global network of beloveds. This is a far cry from worries about feeling lonely or isolated as traveling retirees.

with Paul and John

On our next stop we had another friend to see: Paul Robert Mullen. Paul and I both taught at Guangxi University in Nanning, China and convened regularly to share our writing. He's also a musician, and you can blame or praise him for getting me into the ukulele. We did some traveling together in S.E. Asia, including seeing orangutans in Borneo and Komodo dragons in Flores, Indonesia.  (I write about all of this in Wanderland.)

It had been seven years, but when he walked through the cafe door in Liverpool, it felt like we'd been hanging out together last week. He was glad to hear we'd already been on a Beatles Magical Mystery (bus) Tour. (We'd arrived the previous day to spend two nights in a teensy, inexpensive, convenient hotel room overlooking a square boasting a statue of Queen Victoria.) I was thrilled to hear he has a new book coming out titled it's all come down to this: a retrospective, poems & writings (1999-2024).

The Beatles tour was a wonderful bus excursion. We saw the childhood houses of Paul and John, and their schools and the places they met Ringo and George. Hearing clips of their music through the speakers--especially Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields as we headed to those iconic spots--made me a little weepy. We even ID'd the barbershop mentioned in Penny Lane. I loved knowing that these seminal places of their childhood influenced their great songs. It made me wonder in what other neighborhoods in the world a merging of friends was sparking creative brilliance.

...is in my ears and in my eyes...

I was struck by the contrast between John's difficult upbringing--an absent father and distracted mother--versus Paul's happy childhood surrounded by parents who loved music, and extended family and neighbors who often popped in. The upbeat, nostalgic Penny Lane and the skewed wistfulness of Strawberry Fields reflect that contrast in their lives.

Liverpool has an expansive waterfront area downhill from the city center, which is an eclectic mix of crusty characters and hip, young people. Amid the bookstores, cafes, and music venues, I noticed a lot of welcoming pride flags.

Liverpool waterfront; that's a ferry going across the Mersey.

Of course the most famous music venue in the city is The Cavern Club, where the Beatles first played publicly, and its sister venue down the alley, The Cavern Pub. That's where Paul played guitar and sang one evening with a rocking band. When they played "Ferry Cross the Mersey," Dave and I touched hands. This electrifying, Uber-English musical moment was shot through with affectionate memories of the Ukulele Cafe in Nanning. That was where Paul played many evenings with international musicians, a boost and a refuge for us while living in a Chinese city of 8 million people.

Biggie Smalls

At this point, we'd been in England for over a month. We were enroute to Wales, and along the way we spent three days housesitting in Sandbach, a market town--meaning a small town in a rural setting that was given a historic legal right to hold a weekly market. Our hosts, both professional musicians, picked us up at the train station. 

We enjoyed their company while they showed us around and introduced us to their chill dogs, Biggie Smalls and Louie. They needed only one easy walk a day to the park down the street. That suited us fine because after so much travel and socializing, we were ready to take it easy. Laid-back Sandbach was a good place to do so.

Saxon crosses in center of town.

The house--which prominently displayed a large harp in the dining room--was a couple of blocks from the historical downtown. On the cobbled market square, two Saxon crosses, built around the 7th-9th centuries, stood tall.

Another feature of the town is the medieval parish church that stands on a low hill above Dingle Brook, the "sandy beck" that gave Sandbach its name. 

St Mary's seen in the distance past the graveyard.

I read that, amazingly, the church is mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086 (a manuscript record of the Great Survey of much of England and part of Wales). 

I wandered through the church's graveyard, peering at the headstones and pondering all those lives, and all this history that is just the passage of time. One day, we will be someone else's history.

If you're interested in our life of housesitting, budget travel and living in Mexico, check out my books Wanderland: Living the Traveling Life and Call It Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit & Travel. 

Connections & Colorado Housesit

Dave and Yuki in the backyard.

We've been housesitting for a decade now. And I'm still amazed when we drop into someone's life and quickly become intimates. 

To launch our eight-month, multi-country trip, we flew from Baja to Denver. That night over dinner, the homeowners--a couple in their early 30s--mentioned that she's Belgian and he's from Indiana. I couldn't help but ask how they met. It turned out to be a story about how traveling and meeting people from other worlds can profoundly change you.

She grew up in the Congo, and then in high school went on a study abroad to Indiana. He'd spent his whole life in the small-town Midwest and had lost a number of friends to opioid overdoses. His father was in prison for making meth to support his coke habit, and his mother was an alcoholic. 

He said he quietly watched everyone around him succumb to substances, knowing he wanted his life to be different. And then he met this European girl who'd grown up in Africa--and the windows of possibility blew wide open. After graduating, they spent time working in Morocco and traveling. He said if he'd never met her, he'd probably still be suffocated in that small town.

Barr State Park in Brighton, Colorado

And now they were married and headed to Belgium, taking along some of his family members who'd never been out of the U.S. That's why they needed us to come care for their house and sweet dog, Yuki.

I liked their little house in a quiet working-class neighborhood. There was a place to sit and read, a table for playing games and writing, a well-stocked kitchen, a comfortable bed, and a nearby grocery store. We are traveling with only carry-ons, and I relish the light touch of having plenty in a small package.

I was happy they let us use their Subaru because every day I opened the hatchback for Yuki to jump in, and then drove eight miles to a dog park surrounding a lake. He romped off leash while I walked loops around the lake. He would have made a great search-and-rescue dog because he'd splash in the water and emerge with a ball, a Frisbee, and once even a doll head. A few times we also took him to Barr State Park, an expansive marsh land inhabited by deer, egrets, and other water fowl.

Back at home, he'd hang out on his pillow, silently watching birds and passersby out the window. I'd never met such a quiet dog. (Later, the homeowners would tell me that clearly Yuki missed us because he seemed depressed for a few days when they returned. I missed him, too. It's hard not to get attached to some of the pets we care for, and saying goodbye sucks.)

Big love at Red Rocks!

Dave and I had chosen the Denver area to launch our trip because a group of our friends were descending for three nights of String Cheese Incident shows at Red Rocks. Several of these friends had come to Baja six months earlier for a music festival. As we danced beneath the towering sandstone formations, I thought about how over the years, we've collided with friends worldwide.

Kevin and I taught in China. We met up in Colorado with his new wife, Nadia.

This has turned out to be a theme of our trip, as we've met up with friends new and old--human and dog--sometimes in astonishing ways. I'll share some of those stories in my next entry about six weeks of taking trains and housesitting all over the UK.

If you're interested in our life of housesitting, travel and living in Mexico, check out my books Wanderland: Living the Traveling Life and Call It Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit & Travel. 

Ten Year Anniversary of Nomadic Life--and a Book Birthday!

This month marks 10 years of the traveling life for Dave and me. Ten years since I signed my retirement papers at San Jose State University and we left Santa Cruz to live without a house for a year, just to see what would happen. 

We had no idea we were joining a movement of people who were embracing versions of the itinerant life. From retired full-time travelers to digital nomads to those deemed "location independent" to world-schoolers who take their kids along. 

Housesit = Petsit

We also hadn't yet discovered housesitting (click here). Or the little casita we'd end up buying in Baja. We hadn't known I'd have two major health crises that both would require surgery--and that instead of scaring us into stasis they'd fire us up to keep traveling. 

We hadn't known we'd befriend people all over the world. Or that we'd encounter wild animals on land and sea. We didn't know that we'd travel more as wanderers than strict planners, taking advantage of opportunities that floated our way.

I'd hoped but hadn't known for sure that my literary life would expand--that I'd teach writing workshops in Thailand and California, that I'd publish articles and four books, that we'd move to China where I'd teach Creative Writing at Guangxi University.

I'd suspected I'd write about this but didn't know in what way. First came Call It Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit, and Travel and then  Wanderland: Living the Traveling Life. Its birthday is TODAY! 

Wanderland is about housesitting and nomadic life and reflections on home, and it comes out at an interesting time--just as I've been thinking of Baja less as "home base" and more as "home."

We recently became Mexican residents, complete with driver's licenses and Baja plates on Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, our blue Subaru that has carried us along thousands of miles whenever we weren't in a plane, bus, boat, taxi, Uber, or tuk-tuk.

This doesn't mean we won't continue to housesit, explore, wander. I still love the feel of flying, of being unrooted. At the same time, we're intertwined with our community here, and I adore this area and our casita. I'm glad it's small because, as I write about in both books, living light has always appealed to me. 

Ten years has taught me a lot--especially that the world is mostly an inviting place, and that I'm more flexible and adaptable than I ever believed. 

When we left California ten years ago, I couldn't have imagined this life. Back then I had more of a feeling than a vision. A feeling of leaning into expansiveness. And while this life isn't perfect, it fits us well. 

You can order Wanderland: Living the Traveling Life from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, my publisher, or through any bookstore. See my other books at my website. 

Housesitting All Over the World

"How long are you on vacation?" That's a question we get a lot--most recently on a snorkel boat in Molokai. When we answer that we aren't on vacation, people get curious about our nomadic lives--especially when they are on the islands for a week and we've been there for six months, five of them housesitting. 

The minute we mention housesitting, we are barraged with questions. I reached out to my Facebook friends who posed questions as well. Here are my answers:

Housesitting in Malaysia

How do you get into housesitting with no experience? What are the actual steps you need to take to begin doing this type of housesitting--actual, emotional, financial?

I have written about these issues in my book and this article and a lot in this blog. When we looked at our lives and asked ourselves what we really wanted, our answer was freedom. 

That meant living off of our retirement income and savings for a while, doing what we wanted to do, before it was too late. We wanted to travel, rather than being in debt and tied to one area. My mindset was that the void is fertile. 

In other words: letting go of things we held onto meant discovering new possibilities that we couldn't have otherwise seen. One of our discoveries was housesitting.

Rancho Palos Verdes housesit

There are several housesitting websites, but our favorite is Trusted Housesitters. Dozens of new sits come up every day all over the world. Many are a month or longer, although they range from just a few days to a year or more. No money exchanges hands. We care for others' homes and pets, and we have a free place to stay. It's an act of service because people can travel without worry.

We started by developing our page on the site, including references from friends, and paying a bit more for the optional background check. As we do sits, homeowners write reviews. You can get reviews more quickly if you apply for short housesits near where you live--for instance, a weekend in San Francisco if you live in the Bay Area, before you branch out.

Because we are now known as housesitters, people often come to us; as a result, we have done gigs for friends and acquaintances as well.

Describe the weirdest or wackiest task you've been asked to do.

Get up at 6 a.m. to feed the 40 ducks, chickens, geese, turkeys and rabbits. 

Farmer Dave

What kind of budget do you need to have if you do that full time?

This varies greatly depending on the person. We don't housesit full-time because several months a year we stay at our place in Mexico. We live on a small amount of money per month compared to many Americans, approximately $1,500-3000, based on how much travel we are doing. In addition to discovering housesitting, I've learned that a digital nomad is a thing. Some of our income now comes through the writing, editing and coaching I can do wherever we are. We also rent out our little place in Mexico on Airbnb. And as we travel, other opportunities arise, such as the year I spent teaching in China, and the writing workshop I developed with a guy I met in Thailand.

What also helps support our lifestyle (in addition to no rent or mortgage, and no utilities while housesitting) is that we don't buy a bunch of stuff--because our small house in Mexico has little storage, and the rest of the time we're living out of a suitcase. 

It's a mindset--not that we're doing without, but that we're rich in what we love in life: travel experiences, nature, meeting people, time with friends and family, writing, reading, music, and enjoying animals.

Hiking with Freckles on our housesit in Long Beach, Washington

How do you avoid surprises in this process? What are the dos and don'ts for both parties related to screening for the engagement? Have you ever said "no" after a Skype?

There are always surprises--and we have learned to become more and more adaptive and flexible. However, creating a list of questions can help. I think of our Skype with homeowners as an interview that goes both directions. If I haven't seen many pictures of the house online, I might ask for a video tour. I like to know what size bed we will be sleeping in--and if we have full access to the house. Some homeowners want you to sleep in the guest room, which is fine as long as the bed is a queen or bigger, especially for a housesit longer than a few days.

We like to ask a lot of questions about the pets: Has the dog ever shown aggression? Are any of the animals incontinent? Not that we can't handle these things, but we want to make an informed choice. We also ask about the animals' routines, the neighborhood, and use of a car, which is important for longer housesits when car rental would be prohibitive...although sometimes we have our own car with us, if we've driven it up from Mexico. In our current housesit in San Diego, we are even using the homeowner's RV! She encouraged it because her little dogs love camping. Reviews are posted on hosts' pages, so you can see what other housesitters thought of the experience.

Lulu and Sammie (siblings) enjoyed RV camping with us.

And yes, we did say no to a sit once after a Skype--because the cat was so old and feeble that the homeowner thought it might die on our watch, which we could (sadly) handle but she seemed nervous about the whole thing...and she wanted us to sleep in a double bed, even though the master bedroom had a king. Most homeowners, though, are very generous and kind. We have made good friends this way.

Longest gig? And most peaceful?

Our longest gig was four months on the Big Island of Hawaii. That was probably our most peaceful, too...in a remote, rural area with a sweeping view of the ocean. We cared for one dog and enjoyed our daily long walks with her.

And a bonus in Hawaii: huge fruits and veggies picked in the yard.

Our nearly three months in Forest Ranch in Northern California was very peaceful as well. The dog could be walked off-leash on the trails right out the door.

Forest Ranch property

Are there options out there for those allergic to cats and dogs?

Occasionally you will see a gig that doesn't include animal care, but those are rare. Some, though, include non-furry animals, like fish or birds. And some involve feeding animals that live outside only. For instance, our sit on Maui required feeding three outdoor cats.

Maui

What have been the best and worst of your experiences?

Each place has had its good aspects and drawbacks. For instance, my favorite dog we cared for was a sweetie in Australia named Gem. She and I just clicked. However, overall we weren't too fond of the area and its very windy weather. So we focused on what we liked: the dog, nearby hot springs and movie houses, and the lake we walked around every day that had more than 100 species of birds.

Another example is our housesit in Malaysia. You can't argue with this view:

But we were disappointed when we learned the beaches in Penang aren't swimmable. We'd envisioned a tropical paradise experience. Usually we research a place beforehand (highly recommended!) but in this case, we hadn't. We did love the adorable dog, though, and the amazing Olympic-sized swimming pool. And in our month there, we met some great people. 

Basically, we have learned to relax into wherever we are, rather than focusing on expectations being dashed. And living in other places is helping me get clearer and clearer about what I like about home and place.

What is the hardest part of housesitting that people might not realize when they jump into it? 

For us, it's the transition time into a new gig. After the often tiring experience of traveling, we arrive in a home to spend hours, and sometimes a day or two, with the owners who orient us to the pets, home and area. It's a lot to take in. But it's also fun and exciting to get to meet new people and animals.

Max and Levi in Port Townsend, Washington

How do you get used to a new place? Seems like it would take a toll on your system.

We are getting better and better at this, becoming more adaptive with each experience. My biggest issue often is figuring out where the light switches are! And finding place for my stuff in the freezer. People's freezers are usually packed, although thoughtful homeowners make space for us in the fridge, drawers, and closets. Getting our personal effects organized helps a lot. But, yes, it does take a toll, which is why it's important to make sure we allow ourselves some rest the first few days--after we have shopped and oriented ourselves. Having a sweet dog or cat to cuddle with helps.

My writing spot at our houessit on the big island of Hawaii.

Have you ever broken anything? How did that go?

Nothing major. Once I broke one of my host's favorite mugs. I quickly went online and found similar cups and had them mailed to her. At a housesit in Washington, a chimney fire flared up. A neighbor, who happened to work for the fire department, noticed and came by. He told us how to handle it--but we were unnerved. It's hard to imagine something worse than burning down a host's house! When we told the homeowner, he said it had happened before, that the wood burning stove wasn't a good design. So now we can add to our list of questions: "Ever had a chimney fire?"

Dave and Ely at our Tahoe housesit.

What are some common forms of etiquette that both sitters and hosts do for each other? Like leave flowers upon arrival or departure? Is tipping a thing on either end? 

Even though we aren't paid, people have given us some cash at times as a "tip"--or to cover any unexpected expenses. They have also left us gifts, the most elaborate being at a Seattle housesit: a box of handmade chocolates, two bottles of local wine, and a gift certificate to their favorite restaurant. Often, they pick us up at the airport and take us out to eat.

On our end, if we spend some time with the hosts we cook a meal or two. If we are there when they come home, we will have dinner ready. While they are gone, we regularly update the hosts, sending them pictures of the animals and telling them what we've been up to. Even though many of the hosts have house cleaners who continue to come while we are there, we make sure the house is spic-n-span, often cleaner than when we arrived--including all towels and bedding washed. If there are flowers to pick in the garden, we might bring some in. And if we have finished books that we brought, we leave them behind.

How does it feel to be intimate with a stranger's stuff, place, bed, things?

It kind of reminds me of when I used to babysit...although I'm less nosey now than when I was a teen! My favorite thing is to walk into a house that has shelves crammed with books we can read during our time there. For a day or two, it might feel a little awkward to be in someone else's space, but soon we settle into our temporary home.

Our month on Maui, thanks to a housesit.

Do you get attached to the place, house, pets you care for? Is it hard to move on sometimes? Do you get the urge to nest?

We always nest wherever we are: cooking, doing yoga, reading, etc., in what is essentially our home for the time being. Often the homes are very nice and have all the comforts that make for great nesting, from nice furniture and beautiful kitchens to pools, gardens, views, and hot tubs. 

Saying goodbye is bittersweet. Living this life is an ongoing lesson in non-attachment. The pets are great teachers about living in the moment. When we are leaving, I think about how happy they will be to see their owners, and that helps. 

And then I focus on the part of me that's ready to relinquish responsibility--and that's excited about the next adventure. Basically...we've stumbled into a lifestyle that fits us well.

Saying goodbye to Gem.