Hello readers, welcome to the last installment of The Rambling Backpacker! I've been home for a couple weeks now which has given me time to reflect on what I've learned and to try to draw a cohesive conclusion. Also I've just been busy bingeing Parks and Rec since they don't have it on South American Netflix and driving my sister to work (hey, one of us has to be employed!) so I haven't had time to write.
It's hard to summarize what the trip was to me. It already is starting to feel like a dream that I'm waking up from. I'm getting used to English being the default language and to greeting people with a handshake instead of a kiss on the cheek. I'm slowly weaning myself off the afternoon siesta (though I am unemployed so it doesn't need to go quite yet) and getting myself back on a diet that doesn't consist of massive amounts of dulce de leche and red wine. All those are relatively easy adjustments compared to the mental switch that I need to make between traveling and living in one place. I can no longer grab all my possessions and get on a bus in a matter of minutes if I'm tired of a place. In fact my possessions once again exceed the amount that I can carry. I'm no longer starting conversations with people by asking where they're from and where they've been and where they're planning on going. The backpacking community is a wonderful weird totally isolated microenvironment of its own and it was fabulous being a part of it for a while.
During my travels the people I met were some of the most laid back, accepting, interesting, and kind people I've ever known. Which makes one of my initial worries about being lonely seem kind of silly looking back. It was so easy to make friends traveling. Everyone is out of their comfort zone and are often by themselves so are very willing to strike up a conversation and go exploring. When most people think of friends, they think of people they've known for ages and have a comfort and a history with. These lifelong friends are important, but I've come to realize the day long friends, or the week long friends, or the OMG what are you doing here, I thought you were in Argentina?! friends can be just as important. Some people you may never see again once the tour or the city is done, but that's ok. What was important were the jokes and the conversation and the adventures you had during your time together that were enriched by having someone to share it with. And if you meet them further down the road, there's an excitement that's hard to match of seeing a familiar face in an exotic location where you didn't think you'd know anyone. And most importantly the friends you make on the road understand why you're traveling in a way that's hard to verbalize to anyone who hasn't experienced it. Sarah, Joe, Kate, Katrina, Franz, Lennart, and more, thank you for being my friend for a day, a week, a month. It was great.
As great as it is, traveling is much more than just the backpacking community, and really even more than just the sites you're seeing. Don't get me wrong, rounding the bend and seeing Machu Picchu spread out before you or watching the rising sun seem to make the Torres glow orange are sites that one should really see before they die. But when it comes down to it, the reason I find travel so entrancing, so addicting, is the way it makes the world a little less strange and dangerous. It is the fear of the unknown that keeps many people at home instead of venturing out, and that same fear that causes them to lash out at people or things that are different from their norms. However, if you can overcome that fear, and get out there, the world becomes a lot nicer place. The main drive for me to leave everything behind and strike out on my own for six months in a strange place was that desire to figure things out, to see what South America was really like outside of books and news broadcasts. And what I found was an incredibly friendly, fascinating, sometimes chaotic, and sometimes tragic place. But what I didn't find was a scary place. Instead, I found old ladies in traditional clothing that were happy to help me figure out which was my bus when there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to buses leaving the station. I found 8 years olds that were so excited to play Uno in a town five hours from anywhere in Bolivia. I found vendors at markets happy to give me just a little more fruit or a second helping because look a nice young gringo is actually able to converse in Spanish with me! I found people happy to take me in and serve me tea and cookies after running away from a tsunami warning. I found people that offered to give me a ride to the next town unasked when all I wanted to know was the bus schedule. I found lots and lots of people who were kind and happy to see someone from abroad coming to enjoy their country.
I found plenty of towns, cities, and parks that you could mistake for the US. Of course I also found extreme poverty, horrible corruption, political unrest and environmental disasters in the making. Often these things were juxtaposed right next to each other, the modernity of a developed country found right next to the problems of a developing country. Of course the problems, though often cited as deterrents for traveling there, aren't what defines the developing countries in the slightest. Peru shouldn't be defined by the slums surrounding Lima and Bolivia shouldn't be defined by the contamination and conditions emanating from Cerro Rico. All countries have these problems to a certain extent, developing countries more so than other countries where history has been kinder and allowed them a leg up in the global race. And seeing favalas and contaminated mines and leftover monuments to dictators allows you to understand the world and the full human experience better and realize the places or the people that live there aren't scary nightmares out to get you. The obstacles are there but so are people working to overcome them. And again, it's not like South America is a continent full of things like this, mostly it's an amazing place full of people cooking delicious food, playing amazing music, constructing beautiful buildings, preserving stunning National Parks, curating interesting museums, and welcoming strangers into their homes. It's a place similar to many others but at the same time like no other. And all the while, all these interactions and experiences worm your way into your heart so when you leave, you feel like you've left a small part of yourself behind as well. Everyone should go visit.
So hasta luego South America, but never adios. I'll be back again, maybe after I've checked out all the other parts of the world that are calling to me, telling me to come and experience them and make them a little less strange, but I will return.
