I met Richie, from Wales, at a youth hostel in Rio de Janeiro as he was drunkenly spitting out the name of the town with the longest name in the world, a Welsh town with 100+ letters in its name. He had been traveling for years and years, with no plans to stop at any point soon. He had the most amazing unconcern with material comfort that I've ever seen. He would pick a location somewhere in the world and go there, with no money at all, only an open-ended trip back to Wales [if that]. He took work wherever he could, doing whatever -- cleaning floors in a youth hostel in exchange for room and board, fixing engines on cruise boats, etc. As long as he could eat and buy beer, he said, he was totally happy.