When I left Seattle, I thought the world would get bigger. More countries to explore, more distance, more horizons. Instead, the opposite happened. My world shrank — and somehow, that made life feel infinitely larger.

In the Seattle area, everything was a drive away. Fifteen minutes to the grocery store. Twenty to the gym. An hour or more to work when traffic turned hostile. You didn’t plan your life around living — you planned it around the car.

Then I moved to Blumenau, a German town tucked into the green hills of southern Brazil. Here, cars aren’t a necessity — they’re a luxury. Not because people can’t afford them, but because they don’t need them. Life here happens within walking distance.

I walk to the gym. I walk to the grocery store. I walk my kids to school. I walk to my morning coffee, to work, to the bakery on weekends. My entire world fits within a few quiet blocks — and for the first time in my life, it feels complete.

The remarkable part? This lifestyle isn’t just accessible — it’s affordable. Our centrally located apartment, surrounded by everything we need, costs about $1,000 a month. The air feels lighter. The pace slower. My days are fuller.

Walking changes your rhythm. You notice people. You exchange bom dias with the same faces every morning. The gym isn’t something you have to remember — it’s part of your walk, woven into your day. And if you skip it? You’re still moving. Still alive in your body.

A typical day begins with a short walk to the gym, then home for a protein shake. We get the kids ready and walk them to school, then I cross the street to my office. Around noon, my wife and I meet the children in the school cafeteria for lunch — fresh, real food. Afterward, I walk back to work. Later, I walk to pick up the kids, and we stop by the market for warm French bread. The children laugh and race ahead on the sidewalk. At home, we cook, play, talk, and eat together.

This isn’t a fantasy life abroad. It’s just what happens when your environment makes living simple. When your city is designed for people, not cars. When your world gets smaller, you get closer to everything that actually matters.

Sometimes I think about Seattle traffic — the gridlock, the stress, the endless to-do lists. Then I look at my life here: my feet on the pavement, my family walking beside me. And I realize I didn’t need a bigger world. I just needed a closer one.

In Blumenau, I stopped driving — and started living.