I vowed when we started this journey to remain completely transparent about the good, the bad, and the ugly of long-term travel. When asked, I am always honest and yes, there are struggles, constant travel can be exhausting. About every three months or so I feel the need to land somewhere. It can be just a couple of nights in a hotel or campground, but my wandering feet want to cool off. I need to shorten my view from the road unfurling like a gray ribbon in front of me to the palms at the foot of my hammock.
That need for a pause came on the heels of a visit from two of our friends. Before anyone assumes anything, they were not the reason I needed a rest, it was just timing. There are very few people that I thoroughly enjoy traveling with—my sister, my children, of course my husband, and this lovely couple.
Shyla had joined us in Costa Rica and traveled with us for a few days while we waited for her husband’s vacation time to begin. It was tight, but great to have a new travel companion. We got to show her a bit of what life on the road was really like as she also slept on the tiny spare bed that is created by lowering the dining table and connecting it to the benches on either side. She soon adjusted to our daily routine of stretches/yoga, affirmations and morning meditation. She was even a trooper about camping in the wild, which came as no surprise as she and her husband Dan are both seasoned budget travelers.
However, once he joined us, they had to rent hotels every night and then travel with us during the day.
As soon as we gathered Dan at the Liberia airport in Costa Rica, we made a run for the border and began to explore Nicaragua—the only country in the Americas where they had not yet been.
After two plus weeks of wonderful companionship and lots of laughter, we bade them farewell in Managua, and I was ready for a bit of a break.
We found that break at a casita in the lovely, colonial city of Granada, Nicaragua.
At first glance, it was just a charming little home tucked away behind a tall metal gate. But the moment I stepped through, I felt it—a quiet kind of magic. Lush vines spilled over stone walls, bougainvillea burst in pink and purple, and the sun filtered through the leaves like stained glass. In the center of it all, a sparkling pool reflected the sky.
We hadn’t planned to stay long. Old habits die hard, and after so many years in motion, the idea of pausing felt almost indulgent. But this place—this garden, this light—whispered something else. Here, we didn’t need wheels to find wonder.
Granada itself has a rhythm that feels both ancient and alive. Horse-drawn carriages share cobblestone streets with motorbikes; pastel facades and colonial churches hold stories in their cracks. It’s a place that invites you to slow down without asking you to stop dreaming.
Every morning, I sipped coffee under the shade of the palms while the birds serenaded the day. I found myself writing more, breathing deeper, laughing harder. We weren’t chasing sunsets down the coast anymore—but we were witnessing the way light moves across the garden wall. And somehow, that felt just as thrilling.
I used to think the road was the only place I could feel free. But this Casita taught me that stillness can be just as liberating—that sometimes, the journey leads you not to the next horizon, but to a small, hidden gate that opens into a world you never knew you needed.
We have since moved on from our magical garden sanctuary, but the friends we made and the memories we created will stay with me.