Why I Slow Travel, Part I

Sajama National Park, Oruro, Bolivia

On December 21, 2023, I flew home from Lima, ending the first leg of my travels and saying goodbye to South America.

3 weeks later I can say it's been so nice to be home for the holidays, catching up on sleep and seeing family and friends. Inevitably, being home again brings some reverse-culture shock. I'm reminded of much more space and opulence surrounds us here in the states compared to non-western countries. And more personally, it's just weird (but very nice!) to have a full wardrobe at my fingertips every morning rather than 1 or 2 changes of clothes. Oh, and it doesn't hurt to sleep in my own bed again!

From curious friends and family I get plenty of questions like “what was the highlight of your trip?” - which I struggle to respond to because this feels impossible to answer earnestly. I usually say something easy like learning Spanish and drinking coffee in Colombia, or visiting Choquequirao and Pallay Punchu in Peru.

And while those experiences were all memorable, it’s the people I met through happily unplanned discoveries along the way that made my 94 days in South America most memorable (For details and pictures of what I did and where I went, click here). These events strengthened my resolve that it’s the things you can't plan for that can give a trip deeper meaning. 

I’ve written a little already about ‘slow,’ ‘long-term’ or ‘vagabonding’ travel and how can it lead to experiences that allow deeper connection to a place or to other travelers. My time in South America was most exciting when I let go of my to-do list and just went with the flow of things a little bit.

As a mentor once told me, "the way leads to the way."

PORTERO FOR THE EVENING

One night, while staying in the Poblado neighborhood of Medellin, I went for a walk alone. Not always the most advisable thing to do in urban Colombia so I left my wallet and phone at home. I was feeling one of my first bouts of travel loneliness. I’d said my first goodbyes of the trip the day before and was already missing travel friends from the past week. I thought maybe a short walk would clear my mind before an early bedtime.

I strolled over to a park around the corner from my hostel. Even in the street it was quite dark, but the park was well lit, especially around a basketball court that had been converted to a futsal pitch. Two local soccer clubs were playing an informal match so I sat on the bleachers to watch. Before I knew it one of players was shouting up at me, beckoning to come join. I looked back at him incredulously. 

“ME? You want me to play?”

“Si! Portero!”

After quickly deducing from the man's hand gestures that portero means goalie in Spanish, I walked down the bleachers and asked what team I was on, then realized the team with black shirts was down 1 player. By chance I was also donning a black T-shirt. 

Now while I may or may not have played defense off the junior varsity bench for one year in highschool, I have never played goalie. And while none of the paisas I played with were strong players by Colombian standards, they were quite good enough by my standards! 

I struggled to stop the ball at first, letting in 2 goals that I probably could have saved. My new teammates laughed at me before shouting encouragement. I laughed along with them and gained confidence. Brian, the guy who invited me to play, once surprised me after I watched another shot slip through my hands, shouting at me in his poor english: 

“You f***ing amazing man!”

I just stared back at him speechless, not sure if he was being sarcastic. But he smiled and gave me a thumbs up. It was the last thing I expected to hear after letting in an easy one.

Eventually I started making a few big saves and even rotated to attack and scored a lucky goal. I asked for numerous timeouts to avoid ejecting my dinner onto the pitch. My teammates laughed and politely asked if I was stoned. I explained to their amazement that I was just out of shape. 

Luckily, my teammates were all strong players and we ended up winning the match by a few goals. Afterwards I talked with teammates Brian and Cesar. We sat on the concrete bleachers and practiced our English and Spanish together. Cesar was curious about what I was doing in Colombia and why I was traveling. Brian wants to learn English but told me he has trouble finding ways to practice. I suggested watching more netflix shows and listening to American music. We made plans to meet up again, and I’m sure had I stayed in Medellin a little longer we could have!

Exhausted, I went to bed that night grateful for how quickly things turn around as a solo traveler, from a lonely evening to new friends and a much needed workout! 

By simply putting my phone down and walking outside, I had unknowingly left the door open to organic connection with people and place that no pre-set itinerary or guided tour could have provided me. 

TAG ON TITICACA

Months later I found myself on Isla Del Sol, the birthplace of the Inca, situated on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. Isla Del Sol is a popular stopping place for day tours originating in La Paz or Copacabana. I hitched a ride with one of the tour-boats and jumped ashore before the boat made its way back across the lake.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do on the island, but I knew in my gut I wasn't going to get a sense of the place without staying a a full day or two.

Before figuring out a plan, I had to take care of the growling in my stomach. I

walked up a steep hill to the little town of Yumani to look for lunch but to my surprise everything seemed closed. In horror I suddenly realized it was Sunday and I hadn't packed any snacks.

I walked around town, knocking on every restaurant door until I found a small restaurant called 'Khantati' with big glass windows overlooking the lake. The sign outside read "Pizza" but upon inquiry the lunch was a simple menu del dia, with a soup, choice of fish or chicken, and a dessert for 35 Bolivianos ($5.07).

The tiny restaurant was nearly empty save one other solo backpacker named Amy from

Birmingham, England. We quickly struck up a conversation and spent the rest of the day walking around the island together. By the time the sun set we'd told each other our life stories and covered countless topics.

The next day we set off on a hike around the entirety of the island, stopping to take pictures and catch our breath from the thin air of 12,500 ft. When we reached the north side of the island we stopped at a restaurant in the town of Challapampa for what we expected to be a short lunch break… until the restaurant owner's 3 year old son came waddling out and insisted on playing. We ended up playing soccer, dinosaurs, and tag into the afternoon. This kid wouldn’t get tired! 

I realized that there’s something universal about meeting local kids, even if you don't speak a word of the local language. Children are usually curious and don't always need verbal communication to connect with you. 

After the hike we stopped at a restaurant on the South side of the island for dinner where we met Joaquin from Uruguay and Lana from Croatia! We ate dinner together and watched one of the most incredible sunsets I’ve ever seen. 

Taking an extra day to explore meant I could hike around the entirety of the island and randomly stop at the little Bolivian towns and hamlets situated along the way. In an alternate universe, doing a day tour would have taken me more efficiently to the various photo ops and guidebook highlights of the island. 

But looking back you couldn’t have paid me to take that day tour. Because the most memorable parts of those two days were the unexpected connections with new friends of all ages, from all over the world!

FRENCH CAMP 

It was a misty morning in La Paz, and I was planning my next move, well aware that I would be going home in just three weeks. After a week of exploring the highest capital city in the world and climbing the 6,088m Huayna Potosi, I was exhausted. Nevertheless I was determined to visit the famous salt flats at Salar de Uyuni, along Bolivia’s southern border. I had seen countless pictures of it and listened to many a tourist rave about how incredible a place this was. 

Sitting at the hostel breakfast table with my travel companion Joaquin, we struck up a conversation with Manu from France who was planning to visit Sajama National Park the following day. She asked if we wanted to join and though we’d never heard of the place, we were intrigued and took her up on the offer.

To get to Sajama we had to take a bus from El Alto to a small town called Patacamaya where we were greeted with long stares by locals. In Patacamaya we had to ask around for a collectivo that would take us to Sajama. After waiting two hours for our bus driver to finish his grocery shopping, we set off towards the park, racing across the plains towards snow-capped volcanoes in the distance.

Rather than show you the sunset, I'll show you our reaction to it!

The town of Sajama is located in the center of the national park, near the base of Volcan Sajama, just a few miles north of the border with Chile. We were dropped off in an empty and dusty town square to find accommodation as the sun began to drift behind clouds surrounding distant volcanoes, creating a plethora of pink and orange streaks across the sky. 

Soon we found Hostal Parinacota, a quiet bnb where we could reserve rooms for 40 Bolivianos ($5.81) per person per night. Joaquin and I quickly realized that we (along with a German solo traveler) were the only non-French speaking foreigners in town, everyone else was French or Belgian. This reality quickly turned hostel dinners (typically a Spanish or English speaking event in South America) Francophone, which required me to adjust and recall my high school French. Turns out Sajama is commonly known only within French and Belgian backpacker groups, and because the French have a (not always true) tendency to stick to themselves, the secret rarely gets out. 

I was initially disappointed at the amount of French being spoken around me in Sajama. After all, I didn't come to Bolivia to practice my French! 

But after a full day of beautiful hiking with the group past volcanos, lagoons, and roaming herds of alpacas, my French started to return and I found myself with new friends Clement, Coco, and Rose from St. Etienne. We capped off this perfect day by relaxing with beers in a hot spring as the sun started to set!

By keeping my itinerary (and mind) open and flexible, I’d stumbled upon a hidden gem met some awesome new friends there.

My plan for my last week in Bolivia initially was to go to Uyuni (I still intend to return and see it!) and practice my Spanish. But what I got instead were intensive French lessons with incredible new friends in a place I’d never heard of before.

On our last day, we pulled off an unguided summit of Volcan Acotango (6,052m), an epic way to finish a week of adventure!