Some of us are born to travel.
I was conceived through it.
Literally.
My parents were on one of their many road trips through Central America, making their way to my mom’s homeland, Panama. One evening, they pulled into a little rural town to spend the night. As the sun dipped behind the faded colonial façades, the streets lit up. People spilled out of their homes, fireworks popped like wild confetti overhead, and típico* music wrapped itself around the night—congas thumping with tropical heat and the accordion telling stories you could feel in your hips.
Apparently, the party didn’t stop in the town square. My parents carried it right back to their hotel room—and boom—just like that, the first chapter of my story began: music, movement, and a touch of mischief.
It was January 1964, a time of growing unrest in Panama. Just days earlier, violence had broken out in the Canal Zone, and tensions were high across the country. My parents—my dad from South Texas and my mom from Panama City—had made the 2,484-mile journey in a VW bug with my two-year-old sister in tow, right as history was unfolding. With one of them a foreigner and the other one local, navigating that moment must’ve felt both deeply personal and quietly risky.
Their overland journey was no simple trip. It was a grueling, bold, and unforgettable undertaking, crossing seven countries and a vast range of terrain and road conditions. My parents weren’t just traveling—they were adventuring.
The Pan-American Highway, their lifeline, was often unpaved or washed out by seasonal rains, with sparse signage and unreliable bridges tucked away in dense jungles and rugged mountains. But they pushed through with resolve, doing what they always did: they kept their cool and trusted their instincts. It’s no exaggeration to say that I was conceived mid-expedition, during a time when simply getting there was half the challenge, and all the magic.
These precarious yet festive circumstances around my conception are the reason my mom jokes that I’m wired for rhythm and adventure and have a tenacity for travel.
Before I had a passport, I was road-tripping, albeit in my mom’s belly, rambling through border crossings as we made our way back to the U.S.
When people ask me when I first caught the travel bug, I tell them the truth:
Before I was even born.
When did you first catch the travel bug?
I’d love to hear your story.
You can hit reply or leave a comment.
See you in Episode 2.
Wanderfully yours,
Zani
*Típico music is a lively Panamanian folk style featuring accordion, drums, and guitar. Rooted in rural traditions, it blends Spanish and Afro-Indigenous rhythms to tell everyday stories made for dancing and celebration.
