The Last Letter Stateside

In two days, we leave the United States and begin our nomadic journey abroad. This is the last newsletter written stateside until we return for six weeks in mid-October. The next one will come to you from the Canary Islands, from San Cristóbal de La Laguna in Tenerife, Spain.

Dallas gave us a specific kind of farewell: an ice-storm week that narrowed life down to essentials.

We watched the forecast turn from caution to warning. Then came the familiar practices: the pre-storm grocery run, the full carts, the picked-over shelves, the mutual understanding that we were all about to be homebound for a while. After that, the city went still. Roads glazed over in sheets of ice. Temperatures dropped toward single digits, flirting with records for this time of year. We stayed in, ventured out once for an ice-walk, cooked at home, watched movies, wrapped up final preparations, and waited for the melt.

By mid-week, the roads cleared enough to re-enter normal life. Not fully, but sufficiently. Dallas felt like it was waking back up.

It was an oddly fitting final week: a reminder that travel is not only about novelty. It is also about resilience, buffer, and the quiet discipline of being prepared.

Our route for the next year takes us through Spain, Morocco, Portugal, Turkey, the Balkans, and Greece before we return to the United States via Germany in mid-October. Then in early December, we begin the second leg starting in Buenos Aires, Argentina. More destinations will be determined later in the year.

If you're passing through any of these places during our stay, reach out. We would love to meet up.

There is a difference between a vacation and a departure.

A vacation assumes return. Departure requires a deeper kind of steadiness. When you leave home for an extended season, you do not just change locations. You loosen the small comforts that hold daily life together: familiar streets, familiar voices, familiar shelves at the grocery store, familiar patterns of life.

We have been thinking about the old word sojourner this week. It is a useful lens. A sojourner is someone living temporarily among others, receiving hospitality, learning the shape of local life, and remaining mindful that they are not native to the place they are passing through.

That mindset fits the kind of travel we are choosing. Slow. Embedded. Ordinary enough to build routines, and long enough to understand more than first impressions.

We take off in two days. We are ready. It has been full since our summer decision to become nomadic: exploring the mountain west, backpacking in Yosemite, camping across southern Utah, the Great Smoky Mountains, then our move to Dallas, filled with city exploration, holidays, and a trip to Big Bend. All of it abundantly full of shared meals and quality time with friends and family.

Now we venture into unfamiliar places. We will not be surrounded by familiarity. As nomads, we have no place to call our own: different beds, pillows, decor, frequent new spaces, and no continuous community with the people we love. Yet we approach it with a growth mindset. We look forward to the richness of new experiences shaped by history, cuisine, architecture, and landscape, as we begin in the Atlantic before moving to the Sea of Marmara, the Adriatic, the Ionian, and the Aegean.

Extended travel is different than vacationing. We are going to work, to live, to observe, and better understand the world around us. This is not a quick visit to see the sights and then jump back to the comfort zone. It is a slower kind of immersion, the kind that changes your eyes before it changes your passport stamps.

And beneath all of it, we return to a simple foundation: God is our rock. Our faith remains ever present regardless of place or circumstance. We need not fear, but go forth in confidence in God's faithfulness, as we look to our protector for wisdom and provision. To see the world through new eyes is to see that creation is so much more than the space we inhabit and call our own. To see divine beauty reflected in people, places, and human endeavors scattered throughout the world. To embrace the growth that comes from change, not for the disruption itself, but in the larger sense of learning to recognize a greater order in all things, a providential hand that guides life. The commonality of the human condition. The dignity of the soul as image-bearer. The works of human effort. The satisfaction of local bounties: good food, wine, and beauty of surrounding spaces whether water or mountains, country or city.

This week's expenses: Final preparation mode

Long-term nomad prep often looks less like adventure and more like reliable routines. We stayed home through the ice storm this week, then used the melt-off window to get back out and close the loop on our pre-travel logistics from a cozy coffee shop.

What we learned: Preparation has a cost, but so does improvisation. We would rather pay upfront for systems that work than scramble for solutions on the road.

This week was logistics-heavy in the best way. We closed loops. And the ice-storm forced a slower rhythm in between: coffee, checklists, and a city on pause.

Comms readiness is finalized. We are running a three-layer setup: Google Fi for U.S. number continuity and two-factor authentication, Airalo for backup data (20GB/365, data-only), and Google Voice for a stable public-facing number that stays consistent across countries.

Insurance is selected. We chose an international travel health plan through Cigna Global: the Silver Plan, excluding U.S. coverage, plus an evacuation rider. The plan is primarily emergency and catastrophic focused for inpatient needs. We will pay out of pocket for standard outpatient visits, as expected costs are lower than the insurance premium across our destinations.

Split is booked. Following our pattern of reserving Airbnbs about three months in advance, we locked in our month in Split, Croatia, which kicks off a long stretch in the Balkans.

Final gear orders are in. A few last necessities from Amazon, plus one more practical run to REI, and we are done buying things. From here, the point is to travel lighter, not accumulate more.

There is a strange peace in that. Fewer decisions left. Just movement, work, and the daily practice of living well in unfamiliar places.

Ice-storm week changes how you live, but we still managed to eat well.

We saw the forecast and made our moves accordingly. Late last week, before the storm arrived, we grabbed BBQ lunch at Intrinsic in downtown Garland. Then on Friday night, as the front moved in and the first rain started to fall, we picked up pizza from Greenville Avenue Pizza Company. It was our last meal out before we hunkered down.

After that, we cooked at home: pesto sausage ravioli, Tuscan chicken pasta, Moroccan chicken. Warm, intentional, and unhurried. Hot coffee in the morning. Slow dinners at night. The quiet pleasure of a well-stocked kitchen when the outside world feels temporarily off-limits.

It also sharpened our anticipation for what is ahead. Tenerife will bring a different rhythm: open-air markets, daily walking, brighter produce, and meals shaped by the Atlantic and the Spanish table.

White Rock Lake: Dallas, Texas

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Next week, we arrive in Tenerife and settle into our first true base abroad: San Cristóbal de La Laguna.

We will start small: walking the historic center, finding our daily café, scouting our nearest grocery and open-air market, dialing in the gym plan, and settling into the first "live local" routines that make a place feel livable.

Expect the first Canary Islands edition to be grounded and practical, with a slow introduction rather than a highlight reel.

We are leaving behind familiarity, but not meaning.

We are trading continuity of place for continuity of purpose: to work, to live, to observe, and to understand. To notice the overlap between the extraordinary and the ordinary. To let history and daily life share the same frame. To travel with attention, context, and responsibility.

We hope these letters help you see places more fully and carry what you learn with care.

It is bon voyage for now.

See you in Tenerife.

Until next week,
S&S

Some Great Place
Living local in a global world