Living a nomadic life leaves a lasting mark. Even as I
settle down, my mind often drifts to the freedom of
the open road. That lifestyle fosters a deep love for
cultures, landscapes, and the spontaneity of travel,
building resilience and a sense of adventure. While I
may be grounded now, the lessons and memories
from those days still inspire me. Exploring locally or
trying new things helps keep the spirit of travel alive
in my current life.
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Essentially nomad | Freelance Photographer | Creative Developer | Writer | Environmentalist | Journalist | CEO Omarglobal TV
Omar Ruiz-Díaz
Home is where I pause, but adventure is calling
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Alfredo's journey south along Ruta 40, the legendary Argentine highway, was a relentless push against the unforgiving landscape. Starting in Londres, Catamarca, he
embarked on a three-day odyssey towards Chilecito, La Rioja. The road, a ribbon of asphalt snaking through arid plains and towering Andean peaks, offered little
respite. Days blurred into a monotonous rhythm of dusty miles, the landscape a stark canvas of ochre and brown. The desert, a vast, silent expanse, held a primal
allure. The air, thin and crisp, crackled with an electric energy. Mountains, their summits shrouded in wisps of cloud, loomed like silent sentinels, their grandeur both
awe-inspiring and intimidating. The road, often devoid of curves, stretched endlessly ahead, a hypnotic trance inducing a sense of isolation and introspection.
Provisions were scarce. Pituil, a tiny hamlet, offered a fleeting oasis, a chance to replenish dwindling supplies. The lack of shade made cooking a near-impossible
task, forcing Alfredo to rely on readily available snacks. Acts of kindness, however rare, were deeply appreciated. The offer of cool water, a refreshing ice cream, or a
handful of local fruit provided a much-needed boost in the face of the relentless heat. The monotony of the landscape, while initially daunting, began to exert a
peculiar charm. It was a place where one could shed the constraints of societal norms, where talking to oneself or erupting in spontaneous laughter felt perfectly
acceptable. The desert, in its raw, untamed beauty, fostered a sense of primal freedom, a return to a more elemental state of being. The allure of civilization,
however fleeting, provided a powerful counterpoint to the desolate beauty. The sight of a roadside sign promising a "parador" – a roadside inn – ignited a flicker of
hope, a vision of cold beer and a comfortable bed. These mirages, these "espejismos" as the locals called them, were a constant reminder of the illusory nature of
expectations. More often than not, the anticipated oasis proved to be nothing more than a crumbling ruin, a ghost of a building lost to the sands of time. The arrival
in Chilecito, a town of modest size nestled amidst the foothills, was a profound relief. The warmth of local hospitality, the invitation for pizza, and the unexpected
interview at the local radio station were a stark contrast to the solitude of the road. These genuine human connections, these moments of shared experience,
grounded Alfredo in the present, reminding him of the importance of savoring the journey, of appreciating the simple pleasures of human interaction. The Ruta 40,
in its unforgiving beauty, had tested his limits, pushed him to his physical and mental edges. But it had also revealed a profound sense of freedom, a connection to
the raw power of nature, and a renewed appreciation for the simple joys of human connection. The journey, in all its hardship and beauty, had become a profound
meditation on the present moment, a reminder to cherish the fleeting beauty of the now.
Scott is beautiful
The bike path
Living in Scott, near Sainte-
Marie, Québec, is perfect for
cycling enthusiasts like me.
The scenic bike paths and
beautiful landscapes make
trike riding a joy. Each ride
offers fresh air, stunning
views, and a sense of freedom
—whether it's through vibrant
fall foliage or under sunny
summer skies.
Omarglobal TV
Media
Running my YouTube channel for 18
years has been an incredible journey,
showcasing my dedication and
adaptability. As I celebrate this
milestone, I reflect on the challenges,
lessons, and memorable moments
while inviting you to share your
favorite memories in the comments.
Your support has been key to my
success—thank you for subscribing!
I’m far away from where I was born and raised
Sometimes, the realization of how far I am from where I grew up
washes over me unexpectedly. Listening to Vermont Public Radio, I
felt a bittersweet nostalgia as the music brought back memories of
childhood, familiar streets, and loved ones.
The peaceful rural November landscape outside my window
contrasted sharply with the bustling world of my past, yet in that
quiet moment, I found space for reflection. The melodies became a
bridge to my roots, blending joy and longing while reminding me how
much they shape who I am.
That night wasn’t just about music; it was a reminder of my journey—
where I’ve been, what I’ve left behind, and the paths still ahead. As I
drifted to sleep, I felt comfort in knowing home will always be a part
of me, no matter how far I go.
This photo, taken somewhere in Spain, shows my long bike, La Ponderosa (bike and trailers), resting on an overpass. Below, a dirt road winds alongside train tracks, framed by a peaceful rural landscape and distant mountains.
The View
Southward Song
The trees stand naked, dark and still,
Bare bones against the rising chill.
In my small village, twilight falls,
As winter whispers through its halls.
Along the path, a lone train glows,
Its light a beacon as it goes,
Curving slow through fields and trees,
Marking the land soon held by freeze.
Above, the sky is alive with wings—
Canada geese, in sweeping strings.
Calling, circling, they heed the call,
Bound for the south as coldness falls.
They’ll cross the plains, the rivers wide,
Past Mexico’s warm, inviting tide.
Some will press on past Panama’s shore,
To Andes peaks and deserts’ core.
I watch them fade, a drifting band,
While winter settles on this land.
The snow will come and quietly stay,
Until they turn and trace their way.