Humans are a curious bunch. We all are actively seeking that which we do not know. From the five-year-old who wants to know what lies around the corner of his street, to the scientist who discovers a new galaxy in the universe, forwarding our knowledge both individually and collectively is what separates us from the rest of the animals. It is, in essence, self consciousness.

Curiosity: a trait that makes us question everything. Why are we here? What does it all mean? Where are we going? What is this whole "life" thing even about?

These questions caused us to migrate from our homelands, to form societies, to create gods, to build cities, to govern, to start wars, to innovate and create new technologies. We reward those who claim to have the answers to these questions with worship, with money, or Nobel prizes. Yet we are left empty, with more questions.

Travel and exploration run hand-in-hand in our attempt to cure man’s addiction to curiosity. We built great ships and crossed oceans, circumnavigated the globe, dived in the deepest trenches, summited the highest mountains, even left the planet in search for other ones. We didn’t have to do this. Life was really no different when the world was flat, when the stars were holes in the sky, when giant sea monsters prevented us from crossing the Atlantic Ocean, than it is today. Yet here we are. Why?

Growing up in the suburbs of Denver, Colorado, I always recall a feeling of disconnection from what I called the "real world". I had no problems growing up, went to decent schools, and made good grades. I had lots of friends and did normal suburban white kid stuff. I graduated high school and attended the University of Colorado at Boulder. It was there, my freshman year, sitting in my Smith Hall dorm room, staring at my computer while my roommate would have his daily fight-break-up-get-back-together ritual over Skype with his girlfriend back in Ohio, that I realized that deep down I needed more. I was failing to see the point of it all. I wanted out of everything. It wasn’t depression, rather an itch to go somewhere, to try something new, to see the world. I had already seen many countries for my age. I had been fortunate enough to go along with my parents to the Caribbean, Mexico, and Europe. But I was curious to see how I’d fare on my own.

In my senior year of university, I got my first chance studying abroad in Nicaragua for a semester. The whole experience was electrifying. Seeing new ways of life, being inundated with culture, attending class with local students and professors, traveling with new friends. It was there, I taught English to classes of more than 50 fourth graders, hiked volcanoes, got drunk and mugged by prostitutes on picturesque tropical beach (sorry for not telling you, Mom), stranded in a remote Caribbean town, and canoed in a family’s personal canoe made out of a hollowed out tree, to name a few things. All of it was intoxicating.

I was happy to come home after five months, to see friends and family and enjoy the simple comforts we take for granted in the first world. Yet as I started into my final semester of college and life after graduation was looming over me, that feeling came back. What does this all mean? The path was all in front of me. Graduate. Find a job that I’ll hate. Work nine to five, Monday through Friday. Get drunk on the weekends and watch football on Sunday. I needed more.

Many try to satisfy these cravings through travel, and most wish to do this after their college graduation. However, American society is set up in a way where extended or indefinite periods of travel is frowned upon and made impossible (i.e. only two weeks of vacation time). We have to find a way to get paid to be abroad. That’s exactly what happened to me.

This project is called All Gone South. It’s aim is to tell you how my life went from leaving a normal life behind to becoming part of something huge, running tours through five countries in South America. The money raised will cover my costs to produce the piece (time, sleep loss, beer etc.) and maybe some motivation to continue writing about my experiences. I want to bring you into the wild world of guiding and provide some laughs along the way. Curious, no?