When I told people that I wanted to go backpacking for a few
months, often a response that I received was, "You would." Thank you?
I’m not sure what that means, but I suppose they are correct, because here I
am.
Overall, my trip was amazing. I am so happy that I gathered
the courage to get up and go. It was terrifying and wonderful and
unpredictable. I met so many interesting people. Sometimes we traveled together
for days at a time, and sometimes I didn't even catch their name and we only
had a quick chat. But I am so grateful for all the interactions; it helped me
to remember how diverse the world is and how many different perspectives exist.
After nearly two months of traveling, I've been back in the
States for about three weeks. So in true listicle fashion, here are some
overall reflections or thoughts or things that I learned or just whatever I
fancied writing.
Despite traveling solo, I was rarely alone.
Seriously. Hardly ever. I would find travel buddies for a
bit, eventually part ways, get on a bus alone, check into a new hostel, and
occasionally even have new friends before my backpack hit the floor next to my
new bed. Part of the reason that I didn’t blog as much as I wanted to was because
I was constantly surrounded by intriguing people; absorbing their stories and
exploring our new destination.
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| Me and a crew of Germans in Salento, Colombia |
I love meeting new people and have been told that I am a
“people person,” but I am also perfectly comfortable doing things solo, enjoy
alone time, and never feel the need to unnecessarily fill silence. Moving
forward, I shall proudly choose to identify as an
ambivert.
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| Thinkin' or listenin' or somethin' in San Blas, Panama |
Backpacks are the best and I may never use a rolling
suitcase again.
That last part probably isn't quite true, but do you have
any idea how much easier it is to have TWO hands when simultaneously walking
and trying to pull out tickets or IDs or maps?! Also how wonderful it is to
have so many pockets?! And the simplicity of not lifting a suitcase to go up
stairs or down stairs or across gravel or over curbs or onto a bus or other
mode of transportation?!
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| A rolling suitcase would not have made it over this rickety Costa Rica/Panama border bridge |
The best way to guarantee that it won't rain is to carry
a raincoat around all the livelong day.
Works every time!
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| This is literally the only time I wore my raincoat, and it barely rained; Panama City, Panama |
I am thankful that I am a master of falling asleep
quickly and deeply.
Between people walking in and out of the room, people
getting ready for bed, various alarms going off in the morning, groups packing
up bags at absurd hours to catch buses and flights, the snoring, the music and
noise from common areas, the attempts to climb into rickety bunk beds that
don't have ladders in the dark, and people bringing others back for hooks ups,
a hostel room isn't exactly conducive to a peaceful night of sleep. Neither is
an upright seat on an overnight bus. Luckily, I sleep like a dead person so
these things rarely bothered me.
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| This precious pup jumped into my bed one morning in Tamarindo, Costa Rica. Cute, but pretty gross. |
Knowing the native language is infinitely valuable, but
knowing English is, too.
Because I speak fluent Spanish, it was my default throughout
the trip. Unless I was with other travelers, I was speaking in Spanish. Because
of this default, I hadn't realized just how valuable of a skill it was. I
wasn't conscious of how few natives spoke English - because we were in small
towns and why would they?
On the other hand, English is the language of travelers.
Travelers are a culturally diverse group; I literally met people from all
corners of the world (ok, not Antarctica) and the language of a hostel common
room is English. One night I went out as a part of a group of six. We had all met
within the last two days, we were all traveling alone, we represented six
different countries, and regardless of native language, we communicated in
English.
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| Reppin' several countries at a waterfall in Dominical, Costa Rica |
I can be your hero, baby.
I make my own luck.
People often tell me, "wow, you're so lucky!"
True, I am first to admit that I am extremely lucky to grow
up with a wonderful and supportive family in the land of opportunity. However,
many of the fantastic experiences that I have had in my adult life are because
I decided that I wanted to do something, and then I did it. Going on this trip
was not determined by luck, it was determined by me. It's certainly not always
easy and often it's terrifying, but Nike is onto something - just do it.
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| Surfing in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua |
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| Looking down on the Valle de Cocora in Colombia |
It's easy to make traveling look glamorous on social media.
And yes, much of the time it is glamorous. But not always.
Never in my life have I had so may bug bites. I was in 100 degree heat without
air conditioning for weeks and weeks, and I am a human who sweats a LOT.
Travelers’ diarrhea is a real thing and unless a bathroom is in a hostel, 95%
of bathrooms in Central America do not have toilet paper. Some men are creeps,
but in some cultures this creepiness is acceptable. I slept in many beds with
mosquito nets over them and/or awkwardly scaled to top bunks in darkness.
Somehow I messed up my eye for a few days, so when I met new people I was
either "crying" or constantly winking at them. I scrubbed underwear
in the sink or the shower and developed a new acceptable standard for clothing
stink before needing to find a laundry service. Language barrier stories are
fun to laugh at later, but are often super unconformable in the moment. Despite
the tan, my skin regressed to its pimply teenage state from the inconsistent
water and soap and pillows. Sometimes ATMs tricked me into thinking that I
couldn’t access any of my money to buy silly things like food or a place to
sleep. None of these things were glamorous, but they all helped shape my
experience. Also I never cried, and I think that is impressive.
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| Skeeter nets over the bed in Ometepe, Nicaragua |
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| Overnight busing in Colombia. It ended up being more than 17 hours |
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| I took this photo in Granada, Nicaragua to track if that bug bite was getting bigger |
I did not blend in, though I wasn’t necessarily trying
to.
I am tall, I am white, I am female.
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| Posing with a Botero statue in Bogota, Colombia |
There's a lot that America does right, but there's a lot
that America does wrong.
In the words of Lee Greenwood, I am proud to be an American.
So proud that I won the American Legion Patriotism awards at both my eighth
grade AND high school graduations (nerd alert). So don't get me wrong, I love
America. I also love to travel, but I will always come back to the States.
However, meeting foreigners constantly reminds me of some of
America's problems. The education and healthcare systems are a mess compared to
other developed countries, but those are larger discussions for another time.
The other glaring issue is the American workaholic culture that doesn't make
extended travel acceptable. Friends were surprised to find out that I'm
American (if “where are you from” wasn’t the opener, often I was assumed as Canadian),
since there aren't many of us who have chunk of time to spend exploring the
world. The American Dream is a powerful influence - we must go to college, get
a degree, find a job, and quickly work our way to the top. We have our whole
lives to get to the top, why are we in such a hurry? Why is it frowned upon to
take a pause to get some new perspective and experience? I have many thoughts
on this that will likely be a separate blog post.
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| Isla Tortuga, Costa Rica |
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| Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica |
I am proud of my excellent packing skillz
My bag wasn't so full that I had to puzzle everything in, it
weighed less than 25 pounds, I didn't forget anything major, and I didn't pack
anything major that I didn't need. If I were to do it again, I would bring a
second swimsuit, travel Febreeze, a headlamp, a wrist strap for the GoPro, and
a money belt.
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| Arriving in Bogota, Colombia. This is one of the few days that I wore pants & long sleeves. |
Dancing like no one is watching is easier when you don't
know any of the people who are watching.
But seriously, why do we care so much about what other
people think? I haven't figured this out yet. Thoughts welcome.
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| Attempting salsa dancing in Medellin, Colombia |
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| Not sure what dance move this is, but there is no one on this island watching; San Blas, Panama |
I am willing to credit a walking stick with saving my
life.
Without it, I'm not confident that I would have made it up
and down that Nicaraguan volcano with my sanity in tact.
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| Sweet view from the top of the volcano of Maderas on Ometepe, Nicaragua |
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| It got a little messy |
The hardest moments were always the first moments in a
new city with a huge backpack on my back, no orientation, and no idea where to
go.
But it got easier and I learned to anticipate these moments.
For some reason being lost with a giant backpack, aka signal beacon that I’m
not from around here, is so much worse than being lost without a giant
backpack. Also, I learned that bus stations are not a good basis for a first
impression of a city; they are never inviting and often they smell like urine.
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| Lost in Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica |
It was nice not worrying about putting on makeup in the
morning, but I am happy to put some back on again.
I can't help it, it makes me feel a bit prettier and I like
feeling a bit prettier. Though since I have been back, I have also legitimately
forgotten to put it on before leaving my apartment. Before this trip I never
thought that was possible.
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| My prettiest picture; near Isla de Tortuga, Costa Rica |
It's easy to say no, but better to say yes.
As an improviser, I've spent several years, hundreds of
hours, and thousands of dollars training to say "yes". This doesn’t
necessarily mean a literal yes; it’s opening up, accepting, and embracing
what’s given to me. It’s staying open-minded and following the fear.
I try hard to live my life this way. It’s much easier said
than done, but this perspective is what continues to push me outside of my
comfort zone. Without it, I never would have gone on this trip, stepped up to
my fear of heights and zip lined through the jungles of Costa Rica, initiated
the conversations that made so many of my new friends, taken the hand of the
local on a beach in Panama to learn the bachata, jumped (fallen) off the side
of a boat into the Pacific Ocean, hiked to the top of a volcano, hiked AGAIN to
the top of a mountain, or created so many other amazing experiences.
If we are the sum of our experiences, then what the hell are
we waiting for?
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| About to zip line in Montezuma, Costa Rica |
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| Ometepe, Nicaragua |
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| Salento, Colombia |
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| Valle de Cocora, Colombia |
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| Palomino, Colombia |
