How traveling solo helped this woman find love and a beautiful guesthouse business in Peru.

As part of an ongoing series, Sail Me Om presents the stories and practical advice of people who have made daring life choices about how they live and work. If you know of an adventurer whose story should be told, tell us about them.  


Megan Youngmee is a talented graphic designer who worked full-time and freelance for more than 150 startups and Fortune 500s in Los Angeles. Three years ago, she ended a 2.5 year relationship, sold her furniture, cashed in her retirement fund and left on a trip of a lifetime. Eventually, Megan landed -- married, a mom to one and a guesthouse proprietor -- in the Sacred Valley in Peru. 

This is Megan's story, in her own words. 

The spirit quest

For quite a few years I had felt unsettled. The further I moved into my career, the more I realized the job, titles and money weren't actually going to make me happy. Finally, at 29, I decided to do a bit of travel and soul searching because after having everything I thought I wanted and worked for, I had never felt more disconnected, stressed and empty. 

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The spirit quest started with a cross-country road trip with just my dog, some clothes and my computer. I connected with friends across the country and spent a month in my home state of Pennsylvania. On the very first night back in my hometown, I reconnected with my middle school crush, after 18 years apart. It was the beginning of my trip, but by its end, Eric would be my husband and the father of our 4-month-old. 

I spent that time at home reconnecting with him, friends and family, and planning a six-month international sabbatical. I looked at this trip as a time to ask myself who I was and what I wanted, discover the meaning of home and connect with my roots. The trip led me to Peru, Bolivia, Brazil, and the UK. It took me finally to South Korea, where I was born and hadn't been back in the 28 years since my adoption. 

Overall, I spent one year traveling internationally and all over the country. 

I spent a month in Beopjusa Temple in the Songnisan mountains, chanting with monks under the stars, and connecting with my roots. There were so many strong Korean women who felt like adoptive mothers. They taught me about Buddhism, motherhood, gentleness, self-love and the history and culture of my land. 

I saw the mountain ranges of Huaraz, Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia, Foz de Iguaçu, Brazil and the epic landscapes and ruins of Peru. 

I was alone for all but three weeks, which was a great time to reflect, spend time in meditation, and really ask myself what I wanted every day.  

During the trip I had never felt so alive and healthy. I also was doing freelance work on the road and realized that I could make money anywhere and be home anywhere. I was writing business plans, doing design, writing, learning the ukelele and spending lots of time in nature.  Plant medicine ceremonies also were part of giving me a clearer sense of who I was and where I wanted to be. 

The decision to move to Peru

The final decision to really make this lifestyle a reality happened when I returned to The States. I had left my life for a year and came back to a few amazing job offers.

Eric proposed, and he, like me, felt that his life was in transition.

Then, he asked me, point blank, "What do you really want?" 

megan-youngmee-eric-tres-osos-peru-adventure

I had spent the majority of my travels in Peru where I had fallen in love with people, language, delicious organic food, fresh air and glacier drinking water. 

"Honestly, I keep thinking about Peru,” I told him.

He said simply, “let's get our tickets.” 

I had secretly hoped he'd say that. But I was also terrified he hadn’t urged me to take the jobs and money in NYC or LA. 

We decided that we would take a chance and try traveling for two years. If we didn’t find something stable in that time, we could always move back and jump back into the grind. 

We found an insanely cheap one-way ticket and in one week we had a job offer to work at a hostel in Peru. The tourist season was coming and we built our wedding around our life plans. We planned our wedding and got married in three weeks, and then, just one week later, we found ourselves in Peru. 

In hindsight, I think that if we overthought the decision, we might never have never made the move. Something about stepping out into the abyss with a partner and doing it without too much rumination over the "what ifs" made the decision easier. 

Into the inn business

First, we started in Cusco, working at a hostel. When I was traveling, I noticed there weren't many places that didn't cater to just gap-year kids or folks in their golden retirement years. There was a huge price and age divide.  

We had friends in the Sacred Valley who were renting a house in the hopes of making it an inn and it just wasn’t working. Eric and I somehow both had a sense that we were home when we were there. We visited every couple months, and then found out they were about to leave the house and the business. We saw an opportunity.

We moved in to see how it felt to live with lots of people. And we needed to get an idea of how much work we'd have to put into the property to be able to start filling rooms. 

After a couple months, we signed a lease and started doing major construction on the house. We tore up old carpet, refinished the hardwood floors, upgraded the plumbing, changed out lighting fixtures, we spackled, rebuilt broken walls and painted.

When creating this place, we wanted to make something that was homey — a place that had the benefits of community but was quiet and off the main tourist path. It has an open vibe that a traveler can make of what they want — some hike, while others explore the local culture. Some take time to learn the language, many people find what makes them happy and healthy.

Even though it was irrational to think people would come to a tiny town in the middle of the Andes, we also had the sense of ”If you build it they will come.” And people have found us. In a less than year and a half we've had over 300 people from 30 countries, of all different ages.

Most people find us by word of mouth. Travelers find us through Trip Advisor, Facebook and Airbnb, but most discover the house from a suggestion from a friend. 

The majority of our travelers are people in transition, looking to spend some down time doing some soul-searching, working on a passion project like writing a book, creating art, or getting in shape and reflecting on what they want to make of their life. Most friends stay for over a month and end up feeling like family.


4 ways Megan’s days have changed:

I tend to flow with where the day goes. 

I've never known a life where we weren't forced to live by the clock. Time doesn't exist the same way down here. We still work hard, cook, clean, take reservations, communicate with future guests, are present for current guests, design logos and websites, and build furniture. But nothing is forced. 

I find myself much more focused when it is time to write or design. 

People connect on a much deeper level when they aren't behind the glow of a screen. We don't have internet in the house right now. Then I go to use internet with a list of things I need to accomplish. 

I get to be a momma. 

I'm momma to travelers and my amazing son. In the hectic life of LA living, I don't know how i would have found the presence of mind to be here for others the way I can be now. I found the joy of caretaking, nurturing, listening and seeing people through great triumphs or challenges. I am so stinking grateful for not having to worry about maternity leave or the crushing costs of healthcare with having my little baby. 

I get to be partners with my partner. 

We get a lot of time to work together, work things out, learn and grow without constant distractions, stresses and "real" jobs.


Second-guessing is part of the job

I have never been particularly spiritual, but stepping out into the abyss builds your faith in yourself and the universe in a way I have never known. There were moments where we were down to our last penny but felt somewhere deep down, we should keep going. Many times we had no idea how we would make things work and then someone would come in and donate money, give gifts or bring in friends to cover the rent.  

iching-wind-time

I’m reminded of a part in the I Ching about how to make progress. It says that a wind that constantly shifts directions just stirs things up. A wind that moves in a slow constant direction shapes the world. Sometimes we'd think of changing directions, about giving up or starting something new. But by slowly building, we have created a beautiful house full of the most amazing people I've ever met.  

I also think of an expression that is used a lot by the indigenous people here: "poco a poco" or little by little. The best businesses I've seen are built brick by brick with a solid foundation. They create a great service at a reasonable price that people are willing to pay because of what they receive in return.

We've learned not to become too attached to anything but simply go with the flow and take the path of least resistance.  What used to sound like bohemian cliches have become very real to us in our simple life. We learn lessons, we make decisions, we shift slowly and purposely.

I've learned to truly listen to my inner voice of what I want and need and to honor it, rather than "shoulding" myself. Based on paper, taking a high-paying, high-powered job made much more sense, but I’ve discovered that creating my life with intention and thoughtfulness brings the rewards of being part of something i believe in. It's really the best gift I've ever given to myself.

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Need To Know

If you visit one place, Megan recommends Iguazu Falls, Brazil.

Follow Tres Osos' gorgeous Instagram @casatresosos and Twitter @tresososperu.

It has a Facebook page you should follow too. 

Also, learn more about Megan Youngmee's creative work.

7 sublime photos of bohemian boat living in Sausalito.

Have you ever fantasized about living on a houseboat? I have since I first watched Sleepless in Seattle. (This couple did too, and actually bought that house! Jealous.)

There are a few famous houseboat communities across the country, but my favorite has always been Sausalito's. I've long dreamed of commuting from San Francisco on the ferry, watching the sunset with a glass of wine and stepping off to return home to one of those colorfully painted homes.

Unfortunately for us plebs, houseboat living in the bay isn't cheap these days -- many are going for upward of $1 million

But you can't stop a girl from dreaming. So on a recent trip to Mendocino, we took a detour to wander the docks. After a wrong turn, we found something new -- Napa St. Galilee, another completely charming liveaboard community. 

Galilee has been the site of boat homes for more than a hundred years, according to its community association. It's harbored everyone from dock workers to elite society looking to escape the aftermath of the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. 

These days, it functions as affordable artist housing-cum-co-op for a sliver of Sausalito's creative class.

Napa St. Galilee Harbor Mailboxes

If you're as lucky as we were, you'll be met at the entrance by a woman in costume playing a piano. And maybe some balloons. But the docks seem welcome to visitors any time. Small plaques in front of each boat describe their names and the histories of construction to minimize the number of questions homeowners receive, I'm sure. 

Napa St. Galilee Sausalito Houseboat windows

Unlike other places I've visited, there's a pretty healthy mix between wild structures and normal boats. 

Napa St. Galilee Sausalito Houseboat docks
Napa St. Galilee Sausalito Houseboat dogs

Next to this sailboat, a little house floated at anchor. For a dog? A tiny seal? I am both enamored and confused with this, but I love the idea that someone's pet likes to chill so truly a-sea. 

Napa St. Galilee Sausalito Houseboat research boat

This boat was built for a university class project back in the '70s, and now has a full-time resident aboard.

Napa St. Galilee Sausalito Houseboat Art

There are two long piers of quirky boats to wander around, and an open bay area for boat launching and beach-going along its side. It also has a community garden. 

Napa St. Galilee Sausalito Harbor

Would you dig this way of life? Have you seen other communities that surprised you with their ingenuity or creativity? I'd love to hear about them. 

The 8 best sailing apps you need to download right now.

When we bought the Scallywag just over two years ago, it was pretty bare bones as far as electronics go. An old Autohelm autopilot and fading tridata instrument was about all it had on board. And with that, there was no wind transducer and the knot meter only worked occasionally, so basically the only digital information that we had was a dubious course head and questionable depth.

We wanted to upgrade, but of course, we needed to do it on a budget. So I did what anyone else on the cusp of still being labeled a millennial would do: turned to the App Store on my iPhone.

Is that a lighthouse? Yup, app says it’s a light house.

While we have since upgraded a few pieces of equipment (installed the Raymarine Wind, Depth, Speed pack this year), we still have a set of go-to, cant-live-without apps. This is ever-changing, of course, but here is our current list that has made it from trial to keeper:

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Garmin’s Blue Chart Mobile: While we hope to get an actual chartplotter installed at the helm soon, this app kills it in terms of making your phone or iPad serve the same purpose. The app is easy to use, dead-on accurate, and fully replaces a chart plotter as long as you can easily plug your phone in as the battery slowly drains. We wouldn’t get anywhere without it.

App Store

Vesper Marine’s Watchmate: This app connects specifically to our Vesper Marine XB-800 via a local onboard WiFi network to show AIS data for nearby transmitting ships. AIS is an incredibly important redundant system for monitoring for potential collisions, but also just a super fun way to view information on the boats around you. In fact, we turned off the AIS alarm while navigating the East River through Hell Gate recently and almost got overtaken by a container ship while not paying attention! Keep the alarms on, people!

Watchmate is also extremely useful for getting your SoG (speed over ground) when your speed transducer is fouled up and not recording data. We ended up relying on this app for nearly two weeks recently, while sailing around the Long Island Sound.

App Store | Google Play

SailFlow: This app is a bit hit or miss to me, but one of the essential apps for getting at least a basic sense for what the weather will be. A couple of pro tips: 1) You don't need the Pro / Gold membership to access a weather station’s forecast -- only for observed data. 2) When you are viewing a weather station’s Forecast, be sure to click the settings cog and try switching the forecast “Model” so that you can make an educated guess on the weather based on multiple different data sets. They can be surprisingly different. 

App Store | Google Play

PredictWind: This is a newcomer to our weather arsenal, but I do like that the weather forecast table automatically compares data from the Global Forecasting System and the Canadian Met Centre to give you a quick reference. You can quickly see if the two are comparable or if there are large discrepancies between the forecasts. The really promising thing about this app, however, is that it offers automatic Weather Routing and Departure Planning tools. The first will give you the best route for a sail based on a specific time and weather outlook, while the second tool will let you compare how your sail will differ if you leave in increments of 3, 6, 12, or 24 hours later. Both tools provide detailed summaries of your trip including percentage of time heading downwind, upwind or reaching, which could be incredibly useful.

The downside right now for me with this tool is entirely user interface-based. It is designed more for the pro sailor than the amateur, and needs to be a bit more user-friendly. While I think this app is working toward being the exact tool I wish I had, I currently have two issues with it: First,it is hard for me to translate the results into a simple course of sail, and second, it doesn’t appear to connect to any of our realtime onboard systems for automatic data input and corrections.  I’m definitely keeping it installed though, and excited to follow updates.

What I still want is Google Maps for sailing – input the time of departure / location and, boom, a course heading that you can follow and automatically updates with real-time updating, leveraging data from your onboard systems. <cough> Google, meet Predict Wind. Predict Wind, meet Google.</cough>

App Store | Google Play

TidesNearMe: This app is also new for my toolkit, but absolutely indispensable to have alongside my Eldridges now that we have started learning about the impact of currents and tides on the correlated ease of our sail. Being day sailors on the west coast, we virtually never needed to think about anything beyond “Is the sun out?” Now that we’ve started navigating our way around the Long Island Sound, keeping a close eye on the tides and currents is absolutely essential. This app allows you to easily find nearby data points and keeps a running list of recently viewed stations.

App Store | Google Play

OutCast: Weather for boaters. This app is pretty awesome. It gives you a pretty good 12-hour and weeklong at-a-glance forecast on the opening screen that is tied each time you open it to your current location. You can then take a deeper dive into the day-by-day and location as required. Within the menu, you can also get directly to the NOAA marine forecasts and save frequently viewed NOAA regions, as well as buoy, tide and observations stations into a customizable Favorites menu.

App Store | Google Play

KnotGuide: A simple reference for all your knotting needs. I’ve finally got my Bowline and hitch knots down, but this still comes in handy all the time!

App Store

Coast Guard: The official app of the US Coast Guard that lets you call for emergency assistance with the push of a button, as well as file float plans, review your boating basics, and request safety checks. Haven’t used it much, but seems like something important to have when needed. Much like epirbs, life lines, etc.

App Store | Google Play

Again, while this list is what we use today, we are always on the lookout for new apps and happy to try out anything that is recommended to us. Know a good app not on this list?  Let us know!

Author's Disclosure: Vesper Marine provided us with a demo XB-800 unit, but their app is free to download. Predict Wind provided us with a complimentary pro membership for testing purposes. Both did so with the expectation that we provide honest reviews. 

 

How to find your people.

We’ve been searching for a sense of community even before we left Los Angeles and arrived in New York City. 

New York provides limitless moments of wonder to all who visit and live here, but it offers a sense of place to very few. You can’t expect a city that holds so many big dreams on its shoulders to not feel hardened with the burden after awhile. 

It’s a city that makes itself available but it won’t welcome you. For many, its indifference is a bright challenge. But to us, it’s a tiring one.

Jon and I aren’t joiners. Most obviously, we’re not athletic and we aren’t religious, which rules out the best plug-and-play communities. 

We are, however, travelers. Travelers also tend to find their own — and it’s how we found each other. We first met because he gave me travel advice and we ended up swapping stories about our travels for hours.

It’s never easier to be a traveler than when you’re in your twenties. When you’re unattached, unserious and unbearably cheap. These things are the bedrock for being young and alone but not lonely. 

But as we grew older and our friends started to pair off, invest in mortgages and grow their families, we found that our community was smaller than we had hoped for. For a few years we felt lost, and traveled around to smaller towns to see if moving somewhere else would fill that empty spot where joyful, aimless travel used to sit solidly in our life plan. That’s where the boat came in. 

Sailors make their own communities — weird ones. Like travelers in some far-off inn, sailors are people of different ages and means, united by a similar sense of adventure. 

Sailing is a form of traveling, true. But the rudiments of sailing and traveling are also similar. Long hours of introspection. Satisfaction with staring into the distance — off a bow or out a bus window. Being at peace with the unpredictability of weather and whims. 

It’s a way of life that makes you generous. With your time, because accepting a slower pace means you are forced to have lots of it. With your advice, because each thing you learn feels imperative for another person to capture the magic of. And with your stuff, be it a meal for strangers or a box full of boat gear that feels too precious to toss. In my experience, nothing matches the generosity of travelers and sailors. The sharing of wild yarns, the pace of storytelling is identical in both worlds. 

The act of traveling is actually as old as humans are — it was key to our survival in our nomadic early days. I like to think that wanderlust is hard-coded into us, intractably the same, while the methods for wandering change by the year. 

But learning to sail feels old, like I’ve been plugged into some hallowed secret society. 

Despite the many things that have modernized sailing, there’s still protocol that has lasted out of logic and love for hundreds of years. For someone who hasn’t grown up with it, the language of sailing is deliciously foreign to me. It feels like play acting at first to follow these things, to learn the proper words for things when they feel a little ridiculous to say. And then it feels sort of… honorable. Like I’m keeping a language from dying and passing it along to others by using it. 

It’s rare to find a community that you need no skill, nomination or belief to join, just bull-headed perseverance to keep with it. It’s rarer still when that community is centuries old. 

I recently read Joshua Slocum’s Sailing Alone Around the World, in which he journals about his experience solo circumnavigating the world by himself, for the first time in history. 

Joshua Slocum was the first man to sail around the world by himself. He protected himself from pirates by spreading carpet tacks on his deck every night before going to sleep.

Joshua Slocum was the first man to sail around the world by himself. He protected himself from pirates by spreading carpet tacks on his deck every night before going to sleep.

His narrative didn’t seem old timey at all. It was like he was in the room with me. I feel the same way when I see a photo of Einstein or Hemingway behind the wheel of a boat. I have nothing in common with these great men.

Except I do. We totally could have gone sailing together. 

That's a brainy boat I'd have loved to be on. 

The decision to live aboard a boat in New York City.

A year ago, my husband Jon and I embraced adventure twice — once with moving across the country to New York and again a month later, when we were married after six years of being together. 

New York has been everything it was promised to be — glamorous and full of opportunity, fast and dirty. It was everything we needed, and yet we were missing something from home.

You know how distance sometimes gives you clarity? If our lives were a romantic comedy, this would have been the moment where, in the midst of a sequined party or night out with laughing friends, Jon and I would look melancholically off screen and a montage of sailing footage would play nostalgically onscreen. 

The Scallywag. A boat for which we feel a love something akin to what you’d feel for both a pet and a home, all rolled into one sturdy vessel. It’s true that we’re not lifelong sailors, nor have we had her for very long. But where there was once nothing, she was suddenly there in our hearts, implacable and irreplaceable. We missed her. We missed our slower way of life, our days where we entirely forgot the internet existed, the sunburns and the rocking to sleep. The way we could do nothing with her and feel perfectly content. 

Book Of Jonah Scallywag

You can’t reason away love and you can’t deny it. After months of rushing blood pressure and adrenaline, it was time for a change again. Against our better financial judgement,we trucked her out. Two months later as summer peaked, we laid our plans to live aboard when our lease runs out. Two months from now, the Scallywag will be our full-time home. 

Come next week, we'll be setting up Scally as our full-time home and making the transition from apartment to boat life. 

Also like any good romantic comedy, the situation is unlikely. Living aboard, in New York, through the winter? Living aboard, with no shower, no hot, running water? It’s not ideal, but love never is.

Until, it is, I guess.

The life-changing magic of collecting adventures, not things.

Two dear friends of ours operate by a simple philosophy: collect adventures, not things. Jon and I subscribe to the philosophy in theory, but not reality -- we have two sets of almost everything on both our boat and our apartment. In anticipation of merging our apartment and boat homes, I recently read The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing, by Marie Kondo. 

The KonMari method, as it's called, is a beautiful short read about the philosophy, in addition to the logistics, of decluttering. 

I'm a naturally sentimental person and my default is to save everything with meaning, which means I constantly have to force myself to simplify. Jon is much the same way. But the burden of all those meaningful collected goods can weigh heavily upon the soul and I often regret what I get rid of.

While much has been made of the book's space-saving folding techniques, which are nothing to sneeze at -- I look forward to KonMari'ing our tiny boat closet -- what really resonated with me was her declaration of decluttering through joy. 

I took three things away from the book that will help me personally reach a spirit of collecting adventures, not things.

Hold each item in your hand and ask yourself:

Does this bring me joy?

If yes, well, keep it. If not address the item.

Thank you for serving me well.

I love this because it allays the inherent sense of guilt I feel from getting rid of something I once loved. No matter how tired and worn the thing you're holding is, no matter who gave it to you, it had a moment that sparked joy and has therefore done its job. If it no longer sparks joy in your heart, thank it for its service and then let it, and yourself, move on. 

Then, there's this odd and lovely practice.

Greet your home when you cross the threshold each night.

Kondo suggests that when you enter the threshold of your house after work each day, and as you put back all your things each night from wearing and carrying them, you should take a moment to acknowledge them and thank them for their service. 

I thought about this for a bit and realized that when we're at the boat, this comes naturally. Our boat feels like a family member almost as much as it feels like our protective shell.

This different mentality toward the Scallywag, as opposed to a brick and mortar home, is part of why we put so much more effort into her -- why we don't mind neatening her up or washing her down every week, when we can go a month without doing a scour of the apartment. By placing so much emotional investment in this thing, chores suddenly feel like an act of loving care. 

My one quandary about the book however, is the balance between simplifying and always being prepared. At least once a weekend, we'll pull something out from the boat that we're glad we haven't gotten rid of, that instantly saved us time or expense because we hoarded it away. According to Kondo, we're missing the adventure of replacing it and what we'll learn along the way.

But tossing things that we might need in the future and don't necessarily spark joy (tupperware full of screws, I'm looking at you) feels gratuitous when we do return back to them for help so often. Perhaps far more often than an apartment dweller would.

(Okay, let's be real, our tupperware full of screws is so useful in our boat home that I sing a song when it gets pulled out. That's its own joy, I guess. But you know what I'm talking about.)

Where's the line? How do you handle your emotional attachments versus packing light? Have you found a way to pare down while remaining emotionally charged instead of bereft? I'd love to hear about it. 

What is the perfect song for sailing?

With the barest hint of the weather turning cooler, nothing sounds better than a good nostalgic tune.

Every adventure has a soundtrack, and for us, sailing usually evokes a tune that's a little slow and whimsically old-fashioned. When the sails are full, we're big fans of classic Brazilian jazz (if you've never been initiated, the old soundtrack of Next Stop Wonderland is a fun place to start, as well as Seu Jorge, whose songs you may recognize from The Life Aquatic

When we're floating quietly, watching a sunset, something folksy from Songza usually does the trick

Recently though, I've been returning again and again to Dawes, a Los Angeles band that's been around for awhile but I'm re-delighted by every time I remember to turn their music on. They're a folk-rock band that sound like how old polaroids of Los Angeles look -- easygoing and drenched in the gold of a setting sun.

My favorite of their songs is Time Spent In Los Angeles.The first time I heard it, I felt like I had known it by heart forever. It's timeless and a little heart-tightening, with a nautical reference thrown in here and there.

I used to think someone would love me
For places I have been
And the dirt I have been gathering
Deep beneath my nails
But now I know what I’ve been missing
And I’m going home to make it mine
And I'll be battening the hatches and pulling in the sails.

It's the perfect song for our traveling spirits, and for sailing as the days get shorter here.