As you read this, Peter Burns and his girlfriend, Linsey Cameron, are sprawled out on a Mexican beach in routine snorkelling recovery mode. Last week they were lolling around like human corks in the Dead Sea. Next week, they'll throw their rucksacks on a bus and head for the ancient ruins of a Mayan city they've been reading about.
But they're not twentysomething travellers performing the last rites of youth before pensionable jobs and parenthood. They're just shy of 40, and they've surrendered top-of-the-tree corporate careers to run away and see the world.
"It is without doubt the best single decision we've ever made and the most significant year of our lives," say the Australian couple, in a conversation we've kept up via email after meeting in Botswana's Okavango Delta almost a year ago.
Peter and Linsey are among a burgeoning coterie of late-bloomers on the backpacker trail. Frightened to let go of precious jobs in the recessionary years of their twenties, they're typical of thirtysomethings who see the economic boom as a ticket to freedom. Now they have the money, the confidence, sturdier job prospects - and an urge to salvage the last of their youth.
"It's always been our dream to travel for a year, so when we got to 37 and 38 the biological clock compounded the urgency," says Peter. "After 11 months travelling we've never felt more alive and the thought of returning to the rat race is rather daunting. The quandary now is whether to have children at all, or live for ourselves via travel."
So, how do you hatch the great escapeplan?
With age-limits attached to most overseas working visas, there are two main options for over-30s who want out. If you're reluctant to blow a year's income, the second option is outlined later. But if you have the money and don't want to work, it's hard to beat an around-the-world-ticket.
Peter and Linsey chose KLM's Navigator fare. It links six airlines and is flexible in direction, stops and mileage. "Planning the itinerary was the easy part. We bought lots of guide books and gave prime consideration to the weather - we decided early that we wanted lots of sun, sand and snorkelling," says Linsey.
"We avoided major tourist seasons and party destinations, targeting the cheapest countries, where we could maintain a good standard of living. Europe and the States were budget-killers so, even though we had to stop there, we minimised our stay."
Together they've survived on a daily allowance of $50, drawing on a "specials budget" of $5,000 to cover extra flights, safaris and the unexpected. Preparing to pack up for a year, though, required more forethought, energy and money than either had imagined. They spent £3,000 to cover vaccinations, road tax for two cars ("we should have sold one"), furniture storage, vaccinations and outstanding bills. A year's travel insurance was an extra £300 each.
"It proved such a nightmare we wondered what the hell we were doing. There was so much to do that we were totally stressed out when it came time to leave. Landing in stressed-out Johannesburg for our first stop didn't help."
Their journey has embraced southern and east Africa, the Middle East, North America and, lately, Mexico, Belize and Guatemala - each leg detailed in enviable instalments to family and friends on email.
Now on the home stretch via Western Samoa, Peter and Linsey say their global assault has thrown up some amazing revelations. To quote their recent email: you need very few possessions to survive for a year; you can live without deodorant and makeup; toilet paper is like gold; Middle Eastern music has no rhythm; if you can't eat eggs, don't travel; forged international student cards from Asia save you a fortune; the Internet is everywhere; the beer is good all over the world; life just keeps getting better.
Then there's the second option. If you'd rather absorb another culture more fully - and earn money - consider Christine Smith's experience. A little over a year ago, the 33-year-old was managing a futon store on Georges Street in Dublin, a job she says was "creative, fulfilling and well-paid".
But Christine's travel bent, and an English-teaching opportunity, plunged her into a backwater of rural Japan, with only a threadbare grasp of the local language. Kagoshima, on the southern island of Kyushu, was everything she didn't expect from the land of Pokemon and plasma TV screens.
"I was really in the sticks, it was the Kerry of Japan," she says. "Everything was traditional. When I wanted a bath I had to run cold water and wait for an element underneath to heat it up. It was like bathing in an electric kettle.
"The villagers sold seasonal fruit and vegetables from unmanned stalls by the road, and they trusted you just to take what you wanted and put the right amount of yen in the box. I couldn't get over that."
It's that sort of travel experience, stopping in one place and getting to know it, that Christine says wins over the Phileas Fogg approach. If she'd had the option to move on rather than confront the daily challenges, she might have done many times. She remembers being rooted by terror when she had to give a speech in Japanese before the assembled school, two weeks into her posting.
"I don't know how I did it, but I got through. Of course everyone was so polite, I could have said anything," she says. "Language was a constant battle. It was like being deaf, dumb and blind. No one could understand me and I couldn't even practise my Japanese because, every time I tried, the people were so introverted that they'd panic and run away."
Christine's opportunity came from the Japanese Exchange and Teaching programme, orchestrated by the Japanese embassy. They paid her business-class fare, a decent wage and heavily subsidised her accommodation - leaving plenty of pocket money for side trips to Korea, Burma and Cambodia. The programme considers any applicant with a degree and an aptitude for living abroad. Expressions of interest are invited annually around October.
"I wanted to go somewhere I could earn money, rather than just come home broke, and now I can afford to go back to college," says Christine. How long she lasts in academia, though, is questionable. Apparently the nomad spirit has taken hold. "There's an organisation called Voluntary Services International which offers two-month summer work placements abroad, so I'll probably look into that. You only have one life, so why not go out and see the world if you have the opportunity?," she says. "I'm not going to sit around at any more weddings listening to aunts tell me they're going to have to knit me a man!"