As I reach 3/4 of a year in full-time vanlife, I can’t help but look back and see how much I haven’t stayed in one place for very long–until the beginning of 2026 in St. Pete, that is.
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Dreams of “City Hopping”
In high school, and throughout university, I often mused about getting jobs that let me “city-hop,” as I called it: live in one town for six months, then move. Six months, then move. Over and over.
I wasn’t really exposed to any nomadic way of living during these years; getting a job, settling down, and making a life in that area was all I really knew. The artist in me kept that longing to city-hop alive and well, though, because as I wrote my science-fiction books, I would spend months in a cafe, primarily through autumn and winter in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Those months were my writing months, when my brain’s creativity caught fire.
From the balcony of Delanie’s Coffee in Pittsburgh’s SouthSide, I would grab my table on the balcony and write. Summer would transition to autumn, and autumn would transition to winter, my favorite season in Pittsburgh. From my balcony, I would gaze out the large roll-back windows to see snow falling, people trudging by, cars pushing through the slush.
I loved that coffee shop.
I dreamed of writing my books all over the country, in small towns and big cities, in mountainside cafes and on the rooftops of towers. That would be the life, if only I could make it happen.
Leaving the hometown behind
I graduated university in 2016, lived back at home in south-central Pennsylvania for another year, then moved to Savannah, Georgia, where I immediately found the Gallery Espresso and pushed ahead writing my seventh book with the somewhat rustic, somewhat Victorian setting of the coffee shop perfect for my people watching and writing vibes.
I moved to Florida in late 2018, and that’s where my coffee shop choices became…limited. Sarasota and Bradenton didn’t have the vibes, the history, the culture, the atmosphere of my former coffee shops. If that wasn’t enough, I soon got stuck living in Florida when the cost of living shot up during COVID, and life became more about making ends meet first as a tutor, then as a museum and planetarium educator, then as a high school teacher.
Stars begin to align
During all of this, from July 2018 to present day, my sidewalk science and astronomy outreach has been near-constant, right alongside writing my 7th and 8th (and now, 9th) science-fiction books. I traveled for my outreach time to time, covering all of Florida, up into North Carolina, Oregon for the 2023 eclipse, Indiana for the 2024 eclipse, and Texas to deliver a telescope.
October 2023 ratcheted up my wanderlust. April 2024 showed me traveling long distances for science outreach was feasible, I just needed to lay a foundation. So, in May 2024, I quit teaching and drove to Arizona for my first solo road trip–which ruined me forever (in the best way).
In August 2024, I took another road trip to Utah with a guy I met during my AZ trip, and halfway through had another friend who I met several months earlier in Indiana join us in Bryce Canyon.
Coming back from Utah, I had a goal. Leaving Florida was already on my to-do list, but I still didn’t have a mechanism to make that happen, and my nearly $2,000/month rent was bleeding me out.
Then…it happened.
An invite to keynote six science education conferences in Idaho. With pay. Decent pay. For my situation? Great pay. Four months later, I left Florida, drove 2,500 miles to Arizona, camped with friends on the Mogollon Rim, did some sidewalk astronomy in Sedona, then drove another 1,000 miles spent 18 days in June touring Idaho and speaking at those six conferences.
Then I regrouped at my friends’ house in Arizona, (stopping in Utah to visit my favorite spot in the country), paid cash for a van, converted it into a living situation…and proceeded to drive 20,000 more miles around the American west, teaching astronomy in four different states and exploring nine. I didn’t return to the east coast until late December, and am currently back in Florida “bulking up” before heading back west to catch a lunar eclipse in the pre-dawn hours of March 3rd, which will kickstart the next 10 months of my 2026 adventures.
Reaching my dream in a way I never imagined
On February 10th, I was talking to some regulars at the telescope in St. Pete and came to the realization that, over the past year, I haven’t sat still very long in any one spot. I lived in Florida for seven years, but had to come home nearly every night. I couldn’t go too far.
Then I left Florida (still paying that sweet, sweet $2k rent for three more months at the time, mind you) and found myself sleeping in a new town every night–or, you know, on cliffsides in the middle of Utah.
As one does.
Buying the van, I left sedentary life behind. Sure, my telescopes make this current van layout a tight fit (most vanlifers tend to have remote jobs, so not lugging around giant equipment), but what’s important is my humble Ford Transit Connect so I could get my feet on the–er…tires on the road, so to speak. I plan to upgrade to something larger at the end of 2026.
Sticking around St. Pete has been the single-longest stretch of time that I’ve “sat still” since leaving Florida in early 2025. By the time I leave, I will have been here for 55 days. 55! My longest stretch anywhere in 2025 was a mere 17, in San Diego from December 1st – 17th.
Imagine that. Teaching astronomy and hosting events for 2-3 weeks, then leaving to explore somewhere new. Sure, I circled back around to a few places a few times, but I was always on the move.
When I end my 55-day stint in St. Pete, my next longest stretch is San Diego for 20 days in late March to early April…and after that, I’m hopping, hopping, hopping.
I think back to all those years ago, dreaming about moving cities every few months as I wrote my books. I never imagined those same books would lead me to create an astronomy outreach program, or that that program would lead me to living on the road full-time. It’s funny. I am living my dream. I am writing my books. I am “city hopping.” It only took a decade to find the final pieces of the puzzle; for me, those pieces were community engagement, sharing stories, and helping you explore the cosmos above.
This world is beautiful.
Alex
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