reflections from traveling halfway around the globe

Reflection of a snow-capped mountain on Lake Honda. One of the many lakes we visited on the SW Bolivia tour.

A week ago, I came back from traveling solo in Peru and Bolivia for a month and a half. I started toying with the idea of going to South America a year ago when I realized that I will be able to save enough money from my previous job. But when my contract ended, I was vacillating and only decided to push through with the idea six days before I left Manila.

Yes, I was scared that I will regret traveling by the time I get there. I was afraid that something bad might happen to me on the road; or that I will end up getting lost because I don't speak Spanish; or all my cash and cards will be stolen; or that I will never make friends with anyone because of my introversion. And the list of my concerns doesn't end.

However, the idea of traveling kept bugging me. I kept telling myself that if I don't do this now, I might not get another chance (which I proved to be somehow wrong). I had the money, the time (because I was, and still, unemployed) and all I needed was guts and some doze of craziness. So one morning, I found myself buying a  round-trip ticket to Lima. And by that time, there was no turning back.

As I left for the airport, I was still thinking if I was doing the right thing. My anxiety was proven when I faced some problems in Hong Kong. My backpack's hip belt was damaged. I almost cried because of it and was considering to just go back to Manila. Worse, there were many issues to be addressed before I could check-in for my flight to Lima. (Thank you KLM for your discriminating check-in protocols.)

But the good thing is that I was able to gather some strength and not let these little bumps prevent me from going on. It was just the beginning because later on the trip, I had to overcome more bumps. In La Paz, I had to walk up and down a street several times for at least half an hour to find my hotel. My bag was heavy, I haven't had enough sleep from the overnight bus, the altitude makes breathing a toil, I badly needed to pee. And when I finally found my hotel, the staff coldly shooed me away saying (in Spanish because he doesn't speak any English) that he has no vacant room. These things may not seem really serious but they could easily demoralize a weary traveler.

In terms of accommodation, I have my reservations (in both its meanings). I don't want to share a room. I don't want to share a bathroom. And as much as possible, I booked my room in advance to make sure that I get what I wanted. But there are times when we have to sacrifice for our priority.

It was late at night when I reached Ollantaytambo from Aguas Calientes. I didn't have a prior booking because everything in the booking websites were expensive. Call me crazy but by that time, my mind was set that a few dollars was more important than resting my body from several hours of walking up and down Machu Picchu.

Or we just have to accept that getting out of our comfort zone is inevitable when traveling. When I joined the four-day Southwest Bolivia tour, I knew beforehand that the accommodation will be very basic. I knew that I will be sharing the room with whomever I was in the trip with. But I didn't know that there will be no shower for the first three days. Or that there were no toilets along the road. Only baños naturales, señorita.

You're lucky if there are toilets. If none, go pee anywhere.

Toilets or none, traveling in a faraway place has proven that many of my fears are baseless. I was afraid of thieves but the only one I can blame for the stuff I lost is myself (like the forgotten t-shirt in the toilet in a train station). I have this fear that tour organizers always tell you lies but then I enjoyed all the tours I joined. Reading other people's blogs about the horrors of overnight buses made me think twice about taking it. I was in six overnight buses and several daytime trips. Everything went smoothly. The only thing that annoyed me was the occasional vendors selling stuffs from fake silver jewelry to natural medicines in the shorter-distance buses preventing me from getting some much-needed sleep.

When I told a friend that I shared a room with three men for three nights, she was shocked and worried for my safety. Because we never know what people are capable of. But that morbid thought never crossed my mind. I just thought, "Oh, cool. This is new." Our worries are developed from our perception of what we don't know or haven't experienced yet. But once we get subjected to these unknowns, we realize that the world isn't as bad as we think it is; that most of the time people are there to help you, not to take advantage of you; stray dogs won't bite you without apparent reason; and that you are just too paranoid.

At the salt hotel. One of the rooms I shared with two Englishmen and a retired Canadian.

Too paranoid that you make a day-to-day itinerary. A month before I left, I made research and listed the attractions that I must see, the activities I wanted to do, the number of days I will have to spend in a certain place, the bus to take, possible tour agencies and how much everything will cost. In a way it was a good thing because I didn't want to be clueless when I step on a place I am not familiar with. But then, unexpected things come up that will ruin your detailed itinerary. Or sometimes, you just feel like doing something else.

My trip was supposed to be a journey to Machu Picchu. But on my first night in Peru, I decided that I will go to Cusco the next day. I was a little fatalistic and my rationale was that if anything happened to me, at least I have already crossed out in my list the main reason why I was in South America.

Nope, I won't say that after seeing Machu Picchu I could already die. I want to live longer so that I could travel more.

I like the I'll-figure-it-out-when-I-get-there attitude I developed later on the trip. As I noted earlier, I prefer having my room booked before I get to a place. But wanting to save a few dollars more, I ditched Hostelbookers, referred to my LP guidebook for cheaper options or just walk around the city to find an acceptable place. Most of the time the cheaper ones didn't have a website, nor an e-mail address indicated. And that's when another type of adventure begins. Of course for seasoned travelers, this is nothing but a routine. But in my case, finding a hostel in a foreign place becomes a sense of accomplishment.
 
Convenience was also one of the factors why I didn't follow my itinerary. Since there was no direct bus from Cusco to Copacabana, I headed straight to La Paz instead. And I spent much more time in La Paz than I planned to because I got sick (I had TD) and I was still sick (I had bad colds and I didn't want to climb a mountain with a sometimes clogged-sometimes runny nose). I also extended my stay in Sucre mainly because I was foolish enough to wait for something to happen. But little did I know that all these delays and crazy decisions will lead me to the one thing that gave my trip a different meaning.

Here's the thing. I don't believe that all things happen for a reason. I don't believe that you meet people for a reason. It's just plain crazy to give meanings to everything. You meet people because you're on the road. And it just so happens that they were taking the same road. And so with all the people (travelers and locals) I met, I didn't expect to have any strong connections with them. Add to that the fact that I am introverted. I would have been happy if I did but that would've been unlikely. But there was one who got really close, and who really got into me.

To make the long story short, the feeling wasn't mutual. We got along just fine but I felt that for him, I was only one of the hundreds who are just passersby. As my friend puts it, traveling is like a mini-lifetime. You get to a place you know nothing about. You don't know anybody at first. And then you meet people, you have fun, make friends, maybe get your heart broken, too. But eventually, you have to say goodbye. And the passerby, which is me, while bidding goodbye was trying to hold back the tears I wish he could see and that would make him want me to stay.

Did I regret any part of this trip? Nope. Though I admit there were times I wish I was home eating sinigang rather than a bland grilled meat. I'll have my heart broken many times. I'll sacrifice enough sleep and skip shower. I'll wear the same clothes for days on end. Heck, I'll even spend the wee hours of a really cold morning in a plaza listening to bizarre stories of a guy (that is probably high in whatever) if it means traveling all over again. And yes, going on this trip turns out to be one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life.