A Ghost Abroad

I left the country, tuned out the chaos, and eat croissants while the world burns. Still judging me? Read on.

Chasing the honeymoon phase of travel — is that the same as wanderlust? Or is it just glorified escapism? Probably. I don’t want to know all the political details and catastrophes as they happen. Is that irresponsible? Maybe. I’m relying on like-minded people with more mental stamina than I have. I’m protecting my sanity through strategic ignorance.

I’ve always been a runner — not the physical kind (ew), but from souring relationships, broken systems, and awkward dinner parties. I dabble in reality, sure. But mostly, I practice shutting it out like a meditation, a discipline required to keep from falling down the rabbit hole.

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I’m heartbroken about what’s happening to America. About what half of Americans are choosing. I’ve tried telling my Trump-leaning friends and family that I’ll probably benefit from all this — that I’ve already stacked my fixed income reservoir to ride out whatever apocalyptic political plays come next. I might as well be speaking Greek — or French, I guess.

“You’ve gone soft.” — whispered behind my back like it’s an insult…but maybe it’s not

I don’t want to alienate any friends or family — but will they passively reject or mute me? That’s the fear. And it’s so easy to do when someone leaves the country, when your lives stop overlapping. Out of sight, out of group text. Maybe I’m just waiting for the smoke to clear — but that feels a million miles away.

Think globally, act locally has a brand-new meaning when you slow travel through foreign countries. I am doing that — technically. I volunteer locally wherever I can. It helps me feel rooted, useful, human. And yes, I know it’s a privilege to choose this kind of distance — to change the channel, change the country, change the tone of your days. But I don’t take it lightly. I think about it all the time.

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Should I be judged harshly? Probably. It’s inevitable — unless you write for publications that don’t have a comments section (thanks, Business Insider) and steer clear of meaty topics on social media.

Is this a safer space? We’ll see.

Now I’m off. It’s Saturday in Cassis, France, and I need a pain au chocolat to kick things off. I’ll spend my day walking and observing — I guess I’m a ghost in real life too, sometimes. I’ve always been a watcher.

Some people stay to fight. I chose to stay sane. Judge accordingly.

P.S. I know this will land differently for different people. So tell me — in just three words:

• What’s the kindest thing you’d say to me after reading this?

• And the harshest?

(You can leave them in the comments — or whisper them into the wind while side-eyeing your phone. Either works.)