One of the most difficult tasks, when joining the Peace Corps, is what to do with all your stuff. In a strange way, you’ll find that your next twenty seven months of training and service is often easier than walking away from all the things you own. If you have a house, do you rent it? If you have an apartment, can you get out of your lease? Should you put all your belongings into a storage unit? Do you have friends with free space in their basement? Or … do you simply give it all away? My choice was to leave one large suitcase, at my godson’s home. I gave the rest away. Although I didn’t know it then, that decision was my first step towards a new life of full time travel.

Peace Corps notified me in October that I had been accepted and would leave for staging in March. I began the first purge in my bedroom closet. From there, I headed to the kitchen. Then, I moved on to my bathroom and finally the living room. I invited a few friends over to get what they wanted. I donated a few items to work. Friends helped me to do several charity shop runs, because I no longer had a car. I donated it, to a local public television station’s charity drive, years before. My last task was to ship a commissioned painting, back to the artist, from Minneapolis. Then, I flew to my godson’s home, with all the remaining items that I ran out of time to decide on. All my private papers were stored in a safety deposit box at the Duke University Credit Union. As for everything else in the apartment, furniture and kitchen items, I met with the head of maintenance and I offered him everything. He divided up my former life between his staff.

I was very surprised by a major change between Peace Corps Kenya and Armenia. In 1986, if you packed it, you got it to your permanent site, by yourself. In Armenia, we had drivers who took us and all our belongings to both the training site and our permanent destinations. The cell phone situation was mixed. On the one hand, in Armenia, you were just a phone call away from staff in the Peace Corps office. In Kenya, back in the 1980s, the Peace Corps office had no clue where you were or how to contact you. During my school breaks, Lamu Island, here I come! In Armenia, we were also given electric heaters. Plus, during my first year, I was the warden for my region. So, I was also had a satellite phone and food supplies for fellow volunteers, in case of a major emergency.

By the end of my Peace Corps service in 2019, I only had three weeks to clear medical, before leaving for Peace Corps Ethiopia. I headed stateside. The malaria test I needed for Ethiopia couldn’t be done in Armenia. I returned to North Carolina and had blood taken, at Duke University Medical. I then learned that it was sent to the Mayo Clinic, in Minnesota. What on earth couldn’t Duke Medical do? As my medical clearance clock ticked on, the results were finally sent back to Duke and then on to Peace Corps medical, in Washington, DC. I had a mere five days left, before Peace Corps medical would have pulled my offer to serve. Finally, a month after leaving Armenia, I was heading to my third time volunteering.

It took me thirty years to get to Ethiopia. I originally signed up for Peace Corps service in 1985, after watching LiveAid on television all weekend. The concert was held on July 13, 1985. It was organized by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, to raise funds for the 1983–1985 famine in Ethiopia. Peace Corps Ethiopia terminated operations and evacuated all volunteers before that, due to the unstable political climate and concerns for volunteer safety, back in the 1970s. Volunteers did not return until 1995. I arrived in Addis Ababa, in 2019. For a country the size of Ethiopia, my cohort only had twenty-two trainees. Our placement was also very odd. Ethiopia is organized into 12 regional states (Kinloch), plus two federally administered cities. When we arrived, Peace Corps was only placing volunteers in the Amara Region, the Oromos Region, the South West Ethiopia People’s region, and the Tigray Region.

While we waited for ongoing political violence to end our service, we were evacuated, in March 2020, due to the COVID pandemic. So, Peace Corps worldwide was already close by the start of the Tigray war, in November of 2020. For the COVID evacuation, I had a day to pack, close my bank account and post office box. I quickly packed items that I would actually need, until we returned. In my mind, I would be back, once the pandemic was over. Before leaving, I changed my home of record from Ohio to Hawaii. I only knew one person who would understand the pandemic. We served around the same time in Peace Corps Kenya. We were roommates, years later, while graduate students at the University of Michigan. Once in Honolulu, I applied for Peace Corps Response in Jamaica. The start date, in October, was pushed to the following year. I gave up and applied to AmeriCorps. I was selected to serve in Sitka, Alaska.

After two years of service, in Alaska, I was ready to hit the road. I donated almost every thing I had to a charity shop in town. Half of what I packed would be donated, when I reached the lower 48. First, I dropped items at a friend’s in Los Angeles and did a one bag test run to Mexico and a full month of traveling the USA, with an Amtrak rail pass. At the year’s end, I took the United Airlines’ famed Island Hopper flight from Honolulu and headed to Asia, with two pieces of luggage. I traveled in one direction: Guam to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia, Taiwan, The Philippines, then South Korea. Finally, I went to Armenia, for a dental implant and had to go 90 days without a front tooth. I thought about it and decided to walk the Camino de Santiago. I dropped my two pieces of luggage with my Peace Corps host family and flew to France.

I purchased walking poles, new shoes, and a backpack. Then, a few days before my 67th birthday, I arrived in the French Pyrenees town of St-Jean-Pied-de-Port. I registered at the Camino office, across from my hotel. Then, on my 67th birthday, I just started walking. Forty days later, I reached the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, in northwestern Spain. My godson’s mom flew in from Ohio, to be there when I finished. After the Camino, I made my way back to Armenia, got the implant, then headed to Northern Ireland. I booked three weeks into an AirBnB in Belfast, with a family of African immigrants. I had one of their bedrooms. I shared the kitchen and bathroom with the family. From there, I went to Derry. I booked three different accommodations, over a two week period. Finally, I donated my Camino backpack, before heading out of town.

I flew to London and began thinking that I should try traveling with just one bag. I had done that test run, back in Mexico and while traveling the USA, via Amtrak. But, at my age, it just didn’t make sense. I still had more items to shed before that could happen. Plus, my suitcase is always small enough and light enough for any airline. I simply pack heavier items in my backpack. I returned to Armenia for my host sister’s college graduation. I rearranged my belongings and left the unneeded bags with them. Today, all my clothes fit in one half of my suitcase. My winter coat (a volunteer jacket from the final Sundance Film Festival in Utah) and raincoat fit in the other. I have three small packing cubes and one cloth bag (for liquid items when I fly). I also pack a pair of flip-flops and then wear my sneakers.

Although no one believes that I’m turning seventy years old this month, it’s true. Just ask my knees. I retired in 2017, volunteered in Armenia, Ethiopia, and Alaska. I’ve visited ninety countries, so far, My goal was one hundred. I do not have a house, apartment, or a vehicle. I travel full-time, unless I’m visiting friends. I grew up in the city of Detroit and Canada was always just over there. The geographic straight-line distance between downtown Detroit and Windsor is roughly three miles. I just need to find a way to get across the Detroit River. By seven, I knew that someday I would cross it and keep on going.

My train from Toronto has just left Chatham. The final stop is Windsor. I’m spending the 4th of July, during the America250 celebration, on the Canadian side. It will be good to look across the river and see where I began and to remember how far I’ve traveled to get myself “almost” back there! XOXO—GGT