The Mortgage Nomad Presents: Tales from the Nomadiversity – Episode 1

Losing a Laptop, a Passport, a guitar, and $1000—and Learning to Laugh About It

The Illusion of Perfect Travel

Traveling the world—whether for work or for kicks—is glamourous, exciting, and usually earns you a bit of envy from friends back home. And while all of that’s true, it also has a shadowy underbelly.

Why We Only Share the Highlights

Just like social media, it’s easy to showcase the best parts—jaw-dropping meals, epic events, and slick new gear. But what about the burnt paella, the dud salsa class, or the high-tech gadget that was really just an expensive paperweight? Yeah, that stuff usually doesn’t make the highlight reel. It shifts the story from “worldly badass” to “oopsie daisy” faster than a Tesla Model 3 Performance goes from 0–60. I use Tesla deliberately here—once a gold standard in EVs, now… well, not everyone’s flex anymore.

Introducing Nomadiversity: Where Travel Lessons Get Real

Writers—whether it’s our gig or just a hobby (like me)—tend to focus on the highs and quietly ignore the cringy lows. But that’s exactly what this new series, Nomadiversity, is about: life lessons from the road, told with a little humility and a dash of “what the hell just happened?”

Saying Goodbye to Cuenca (and My Laptop)

After a month in Cuenca, Ecuador, it was time to roll on. Like The Littlest Hobo (shoutout to anyone who remembers that Canadian gem), I tend to drift from place to place every few weeks—sampling new climates, cultures, and carbs. My time in Cuenca? Fantastic. I stayed in a charming Airbnb owned by a Cuencan family that’s been around since 1880 and runs the city’s second-oldest bakery (since 1908). I hit the markets, strolled the historic downtown, devoured way too much ice cream, lifted weights in a gloriously gritty gym, and even took a trip to some 3,500-year-old ruins just north of town. I also got tattooed at the legendary Carlos Chavez Tattoo Studio, where Carlos and Klever (who speaks English and does mind-blowing photorealism) work their magic. Definitely worth a visit if you’re in town.

***You’ll see me get my new tats on the Carlos Chavez site

Back to the tale…

It’s departure night. My bus out of Cuenca is set to leave at 11:59 PM. It’s a 7-hour ride. Apartment? Sparkling clean (because five-star ratings matter). Bags? Packed. Mood? Confident. I’m even an hour early—look at me, being responsible. My gear: a backpack, a duffle bag, a medium roller, a laptop case, and a Seagull Merlin dulcimer—a quirky little guitar that’s a joy to play but an awkward travel companion.  If anyone from Seagull reads this, I’d sure like a replacement.  I’ll even write about it!  I flag a cab, load up, and off we go.

Fun Cuenca fact: you can get just about anywhere for two bucks. Not too shabby…..

Anyway, I arrive at the terminal with 50 minutes to spare. I’m already fantasizing about dozing off and waking up like a time traveler in Libertador Bolívar, a quiet village just south of the coastal party town, Montañita. As usual, I hop out of the taxi, place my laptop case and Seagull Merlin dulcimer (three-stringed guitar) on the roof while the driver unloads the rest. Two locals offer to help me navigate the terminal, and I get distracted trying to find the right bus line.

The Stomach-Drop Moment

Ever had that “coffee cup on the roof” moment? Here’s mine—but with a passport and $1000 inside a laptop case.

Now let me ask: have you ever left a coffee cup on your car roof? You see where this is going.

I glance down—no laptop case. No Guitar. Cue instant panic. I remember placing both the laptop and my Merlin on the roof with perfect clarity. I bolt the 30 meters back to the drop-off zone. The cab? Gone.

Cue next-level panic. Because inside that laptop case was:

• My work laptop
• My personal writing laptop
• My passport
• $1,000 USD (yes, inside my passport…because smart)
• My glasses-cleaning cloth (RIP clear vision)

If you’ve ever felt your stomach drop like an elevator with snapped cables, that was me. I stashed my remaining bags somewhere semi-safe and tried to think: where would the cab go? Maybe I could find the laptop wreckage on the road or—miracle of miracles—get the passport and cash back. Nope. Cuenca’s big. It was dark. And I couldn’t see squat.

Travel pro tip: Cuenca has two types of cabs—company cabs (metered, traceable) and freelancers (cheap, but ghost mode). Guess which one I took? Yep. Face. Palm.

The Search, the Cops, and Some Very Stoic Thinking

Insert Duolingo, Google Translate, and The Daily Stoic—because sometimes travel survival requires all three.

Now the fun part begins. My Spanish is decent for ordering dinner or locating a museum—less so for “filing a police report because I was a moron.” Thankfully, Google Translate on my Android saved the day. The local police were surprisingly kind. They even drove me around to look for the cab, helped me withdraw cash from an ATM, and dropped me at a hotel near the terminal.

In the end, it was gone. All of it. The laptops? Bricked of course—everything was password protected. But still… $1,000 cash and my passport? Brutal.

“Control your perceptions. Direct your actions properly. Willingly accept what’s outside of your control. That’s all we need to do.” ~ From The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday

The next morning, after a completely sleepless night mentally replaying my rookie mistake on a loop, I cracked open The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday. It reminded me: I couldn’t change what happened, but I could change how I reacted. Regret? Useless. Wishing for a different outcome? Waste of time. I needed that brainpower for the next step.

A New Laptop, a New Attitude

Buying a new laptop in Ecuador isn’t easy on a Sunday, but with determination and a few Spanish phrases, it became possible. And maybe… necessary.

It was Sunday in Cuenca. Most shops were closed. I was supposed to head to a tiny town three blocks wide. I needed a laptop—with an English keyboard. Spanish ones have extra keys and weird layouts. I type 140 WPM with four fingers and 30% accuracy. With a Spanish keyboard, I’d still type 140 WPM, but accuracy would drop to “keyboard smash” levels.

Mall opens at 10. My bus? 4 PM. I had six hours. I crossed town, found a tech store, and—thanks to Duolingo—knew how to ask for a portátil con teclado inglés. One problem: none in stock. I sweet-talked the sales clerk into selling me the floor model (or maybe she just wanted to speed things up), dropped $700 USD, and after an hour setting it up in English, I was back in action with vigor and determination.

Final Thoughts From the Nomadiversity

Things get lost. Embarrassment fades. What remains is the story—and the growth that comes with it

I made the bus. Crisis managed. Still felt kinda dumb. Still no passport. But here’s the thing: it happens. People lose stuff. Things get stolen. There are systems for this, and as annoying as they are, they work. Once the shame cloud lifts, you can see the silver lining.

Would I have bought a new laptop if I hadn’t lost mine? Probably not. I’d have kept limping along with the slow one. As for the $1,000? I hope it ended up with someone who needed it more than me. I can always earn more.

Now, I’m working on getting my passport replaced through the Canadian consulate, which involves four forms, an appointment, and finding a guarantor while abroad. It’s a whole thing—but it’s moving, and I’m not stressing.

Have Your Own Nomadiversity Tale?

Got a wild travel tale of your own? Something that seemed so horrible at the time that you wouldn’t even tell your best friend, but ended up being alright in the end? I’d love to hear it—for Nomadiversity, of course, and if it’s a gooder, I might even publish it!

And remember: when life hands you lemons, and you don’t have a blender, ice, or tequila… you’ve still got lemons.  Its also a good reason to have friends with blenders and ice…we all need pals on the road, right?

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