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Traveling During "Peak" Covid
Truly a mindf*ck in every sense of the word...
Mental masturbation had reached new heights.
Some would say he was the best mental masturbator of all-time.
The Michael Jordan of mental masturbation — so to speak.
I knew Covid was going to be bad before it got bad.
My Brazilian Portuguese tutor on Italki had warned me what was going on in mid-February.
Brazilians coming back from Italy were spreading the virus all over the country and people were freaking out.
I had a trip planned to Honduras before leaving for Brazil at the end of Q1.
When shit started popping off, I was forced to cancel those trips.
I was already itching to get back to LatAm after spending a couple months visiting family and getting my business back on track.
But I had a feeling the year was about to get derailed. Covid was going to ruin things.
And cancelling was the correct call, as many of my buddies got locked down in studio apartments — only allowed to leave 1-2 times a week for grocery store trips.
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Stuck in the USA
So there I was…
Stuck in the USA. Lifting weights in my parents basement and grinding on business was all I did.
Outside of mentally masturbating.
I spent all March, April, May, and June building out a new business I had bought when the market crashed — which turned out to be the best investment I’d ever made.
But it was 12+ hours a day of working.
By mid-June, I couldn’t look at the computer screen any longer.
Burn out had set in.
Jake Nomada needs latinas in his life.
But where on earth could I go?!
The whole world was locked down. The American passport was damn near worthless. People were terrified.
Mental masturbation went through the roof.
I designed a plan to find the “most open place in the world” that still accepted American passport holders.
I spent every Friday and Saturday evening glued to Instagram stories. I’d follow a location tag and then watch stories from cities all over the world on weekend nights — for hours on end.
Was anything open?
Were people partying?
Did life seem normal?
Were people wearing masks?
I created a spreadsheet with all these variables.
After a few weeks of heavy mental masturbation, I concluded only a few places in the world were worthwhile to travel to during peak-Covid.
Phnom Penh, Cambodia
There seemed to be a few spots in Brazil that might work too, but it also seemed to be a pain in the ass to get there as an American passport holder.
I considered Kiev, as I had a few friends there living good during Covid times, but decided Mexico was the better option.
Because Mexico was closer.
If shit popped off or Covid mutated to be even worse, I could always get back to the USA — even if it meant crossing the border on land.
Traveling During “Peak” Covid
I booked a flight to Mexico in August.
I landed in Mexico City and the place was dead. No one partying. No one at the parks. Everyone wearing masks everywhere.
I spent a week and got the f*ck out.
I knew this coming in and already had my final destination planned out…
Mazatlan, Mexico 🇲🇽
My Brazilian buddy had decided to come with me to Mazatlan.
We arrived in the city with low expectations, but a little hope. Mazatlan still looked good on Instagram stories.
Restaurants open. Gyms open. Nightlife popping.
Not much masking.
This was the hope…
To live a somewhat free lifestyle in an era of tyranny.
Luckily, the mental masturbation had paid off.
Damn near normal.
In August and September, when the whole world was living through a draconian lockdown…
Jake Nomada was not.
Jake Nomada was enjoying the wonderful narco-ran beach town known as Mazatlan, Mexico.
No one asked me to put on a mask when I got in the elevator of my apartment building.
My Brazilian buddy and I bullied the gym receptionist just enough where she didn’t hate us, but would never ask us to wear masks.
Which in turn, led to 75% of the gym not wearing masks when working out.
Bars and nightclubs were packed to the brim with Mexicans from all over the country — not a mask in-sight.
Outside of being asked to wear a mask to get inside a few places, life was 100% normal in Mazatlan during this time.
I got accustomed to it — living normally.
Going on dates.
Swimming in the ocean.
Partying in massive clubs.
Meeting a few nice latinas.
Getting jacked and tan again.
Starting to train jiu jitsu.
It was so normal and so good, I told a bunch of my travel buddies.
Before I knew it, my little beach paradise I was reluctantly sharing with this Brazilian juice-monkey had become a hotspot for the homies.
At one point, we had a group of *7* digital nomads living in Mazatlan — a city not known to the expat crowd just a few months prior.
Now, this was fantastic.
We were all able to avoid lockdowns and tyranny for damn near a year.
However, the reality of the situation had not set in yet…truly.
This wasn’t until I decided to visit family back in the USA for Christmas and then go see my best friend in California.
I knew California was bad.
I just didn’t know how bad…
So I hopped off the plane in LAX and waited for my buddy to scoop me up. Then we drove down to San Diego.
Stay at a five-star hotel, get some bro-time in, and explore the city.
San Diego was completely locked down.
We check into the hotel and go straight to the nice restaurant on-site. I’m no “sportsball” fan these days, but there was a big football game on. So we planned to grab dinner, catch up, and watch the game at the bar in the restaurant.
No can do.
The waiter tells us we can only order food here, but we have to get it to go and eat in our rooms.
Ok, I guess.
The next day, we set off to explore San Diego.
But almost everything is still closed.
We go into half-a-dozen restaurants — not a one will let us eat food, even on the outdoor patios.
We walk around downtown San Diego.
There’s homeless people everywhere, begging.
But these aren’t normal homeless people, not drug addicts.
These are people that remind us of our parents. Normal looking people, not on drugs, who simply got railroaded by Covid.
It was beyond depressing.
After 24-hours in San Diego, I told my buddy:
“I gotta get back to Mexico! This is insane. We can’t do anything here.”
He understood this was insane.
So I cut the trip short, he drove me back to LAX, and I hopped on the next plane to Mazatlan.
Back to Paradise
I arrived back in Mexico on a Thursday evening.
By Friday night, I was in a club packed to the brim with Mexicans. No masks, no worries.
Life was normal again.
But the situation had me thinking…
Just a day ago, I couldn’t even sit down in a restaurant and have a meal. Now, I’m in a club filled with hundreds of intoxicated people. No masks. No problems.
It was a mindf*ck.
How simply catching a flight can change everything.
And a valuable lesson…
More lockdowns are coming. Tyranny is here to stay.
As intrepid world travelers who prefer freedom and liberty over all else, we’ve gotta be prepared and shit.
Get permanent residency in another country, work on a second passport, and make sure to get some of your wealth stored abroad.
‘Tis the only way™