How to explore in a tuk-tuk built for four.

I have been traveling on my own for many years now, and people still say to me, “How do you do it? I just can’t imagine traveling by myself!” My answer is that I can’t imagine not traveling. And very often if I didn’t do it by myself, I would never go anywhere. I rarely make travel plans with friends because either they aren’t travelers, they can’t take the time off, they have kids, or they don’t have the money. It doesn’t bother me when I go somewhere alone, because one thing I have learned from my travels is: you’re only alone if you want to be. And even when you’re alone, holy cow! There is so much to see and enjoy!

When I say I travel “alone” this is, for the most part, what I mean: I make my travel arrangements and/or reservations for me, alone, by myself. I get on an airplane, alone, by myself. I fly through the air for a few hours, and then arrive in a new land - full of new people, customs, foods, and possibilities - alone, by myself. Does that scare the heck out of you? Me too, sometimes. Honestly it does. But it is also completely and utterly exhilarating. Hello World! I’m here! Now show me whatchya got!

Upon arriving in new lands, I have experienced a variety of situations that make it easier for me to move from “solo traveler” to “solo traveler who has people to hang out with.” Here are a few ways in which you may also make this transition, if you so desire:

•  Sign up for language classes. These are chock-full of other travelers of various ages, from all over the world. Through the Spanish language schools I’ve studied in, I’ve met people from dozens of different countries, and some have become lasting friends. Most of them were also traveling alone, just like me! Then on the weekends, I had people to explore with in the area.
•  Stay with a local family. All the language schools I have attended offer a homestay for an extra (but very reasonable) fee, or they are available without the school option. You stay in a home, with a local family, and eat two to three meals with them. They engage you in conversation. They can help you with your homework. They often include you in family outings and special occasions. I even watched some telenovelas (Spanish language soap operas) with my host families over the years. I stayed with a family for three months in Guatemala and it was an amazing experience. Their home was my home. I didn’t have to go back to some hotel room by myself and feel bored. But I still had my own room and could have privacy if I needed it.
•  Find a volunteer gig. This is similar to the language school option. There are great programs you can sign up for before you leave home. Or you can wait and find something once you are at your destination. Some programs charge a fee. However, I have no experience with those and have only volunteered directly with local non-profits that do not charge for volunteering. Some will even help set you up with a homestay if you plan to be there for a while.
• Stay in a youth hostel. Hostels aren’t just for youth. Places like hostels have a lot going on all the time and just have the “we’re all here in the same boat, so let’s enjoy it together” energy. I have found that quaint inns/ small hotels often have a lot of couples for guests, some of them on romantic vacations. Not the greatest places to find travel mates. However, in those cases, I usually have found friends through the above-mentioned methods, and also talk to the hotel employees when I want to be social because they are interesting and can tell you so much about their country and lives. They can give you the inside scoop on things you won’t find in a travel book.
• Look for a travel companion on Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree website (Travel Companion section). It’s a great way to find a like-minded person who might not want to be alone during their trip.
• Take group day tours with a local tour company and you can meet people, even if it's just for the day.

Pascal, Abate, and me with the tuk-tuk we took-took around
Laguna Apoyo in Nicaragua. The driver took the photo.

As I said, with all these methods, I have met people to hang out with while traveling. A couple of years ago, I went to Nicaragua for two weeks. I took Spanish classes for a week and met some interesting people there, students and staff. We participated in fun activities through the school, like field trips, cooking and dance classes. I also met a friend through Thorn Tree, a guy from New York who was going to be in Granada for a few days and wanted to see some sites with a travel buddy. I ended up spending an incredible weekend with him and a friend from the Spanish school. The three of us took a chicken bus to a canopy tour; rode in a tuk-tuk (see photo here of Pascale from the Netherlands, Abate Sebsibe from New York, and me, next to the tuk-tuk) to Laguna de Apoyo, a lagoon in a volcano crater, to go horseback riding; then took another tuk-tuk down the volcano back to Granada, with a few interesting stops along the way, courtesy of a tourist-minded driver. The next day we took a carriage tour around Granada with another student from the Spanish school, and later visited a museum. I’m sure I would have still done some interesting things alone (and actually did the following week), but meeting other travelers made it even more fun, that is for sure.

Traveling alone does not necessarily mean you stay alone 24/7. And my enthusiasm for traveling “alone” doesn’t mean that you should ditch your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner/group of friends so you can hit the road by yourself. I’m just saying that if you do not have companions with whom to travel, don’t let it stop you from going to (insert name of your dream destination here), a place you’ve always wanted to see. There are many ways to meet people when you travel. In fact, I have found that traveling is one of the very easiest ways to make new friends.

Geared up to go! Here I am (front) with Pascale (middle)
and Abate Sebsibe (back) on a canopy tour in Nicaragua.
We were all traveling alone and met in ways that are quite
common for travelers to meet each other: language schools
and on-line travel forums. It was a great day!

Can you stomach traveling in a developing country?

We’ve all heard people joke about drinking the water in Mexico. “Don’t drink the water,” they say. Well, that actually goes without saying. I mean really, don’t drink the water. Not even the locals drink the water. There are many other suggestions out there to help prevent you from getting sick from foreign bacteria and parasites. Only eat fruit you can peel. Don’t eat raw vegetables. Don’t eat leafy greens. Don’t eat any milk products that haven’t been pasteurized. Don’t eat food sold on the street. What have I learned from traveling and all these tips? Pardon the pun, but it’s really a crap shoot.

Yes, I said crap shoot. It depends on so many things, and since I am not a medical professional, I can only tell you what has happened to me. I have a sensitive stomach, but sometimes I don’t. I spent eight months in Panama and only got sick once. I even drank the tap water (in the city) at the time. The joke then was the water was so good in Panama City that President Clinton had it imported to the U.S.

This was actually the precedent that was set when I first started traveling in Latin America. I pretty much just avoided drinking the tap water (unless it had been boiled ... or came from Panama City) and usually avoided raw veggies and fruit without thick peels – especially leafy greens, tomatoes, strawberries, etc. Not until one particular trip to Mexico did I brave it and eat raw, leafy greens. The man in the restaurant told me that the salad had been washed in purified water and some kind of bacteria killer. How I just wanted a salad! Bad idea. I was sick, sick, sick as a sick dog. Why did Montezuma feel the need to take his revenge out on me? I love Mexico! On top of that, I was also vomiting. And it lasted a few days. Damn you salad!

All these fruits are in the "thick skinned" category: watermelon,
papaya, and pineapple. This is in Xela, Guatemala.

When I spent a few months in Guatemala, I was a little more careful than I might have been in the past because the Mexico incident was burned in my intestinal memory. But not for everything. My host family purchased queso de hoja every couple of days, a homemade cheese charmingly wrapped in a palm leaf. I loved that cheese. It was close to the consistency of feta, but not quite as crumbly and not nearly as salty. I am willing to bet that no pasteurization was involved in the making of that cheese. Did it make me sick? Nope. Did the raw radish salad mixed with lime juice that my host mother served me for lunch on Christmas Eve make me sick? Why yes, yes it did. I didn’t even think twice about eating it. It was a raw vegetable salad and that did not even register in my cocky brain (stomach bacteria -- bah!). But by the evening, when my host family had invited me to go with them to visit other family members around Xela to celebrate Christmas, I was starting to feel a bit funky. For the next several days, including Christmas Day, I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, gifts from both ends of the tree, if you know what I mean.

A fruity and tasty way to stay healthy. Here I am holding a
great Latin American fruit, the banana. Thick skin, sweeter
and more delicious than up north, great energy source, and
good for your stomach. The object on the right, with the fruit
design cover, is a water jug filled with purified water,
something you see in many homes.

You should be aware that people in Latin America do not hold the same shame we in the United States do regarding bathroom issues. They feel no need for euphemisms. This was evident on that Christmas Eve when my symptoms started. Here is an example of a conversation at a house we visited that holiday evening (a house full of strangers, except for my host family):

Host Mother to Family Member: This is our houseguest who is a volunteer. Her name is Jill. She is from the United States. She has diarrhea.

Family Member: She has diarrhea? Oh dear, you have diarrhea? Did you hear that Carlos? She has diarrhea!

Other Family Member: Would you like some tea, dear? You know, for your diarrhea.

Me: Okay, that would be nice.

Family Member: Yes, it will really help with the diarrhea. (Yelling to elderly family member) ISN’T THAT RIGHT, ABUELA? IT WILL HELP HER DIARRHEA!

Abuela: (Thankfully only nods).

The first time I was made aware of this casualness regarding intestinal issues was when I was traveling in Panama with my boyfriend at the time, who was visiting from the U.S. Like I said, I didn’t have too many stomach issues in Panama, but evidently he had eaten something that didn’t agree with him. So we went to a drug store to get some Pepto Bismol or something similar. We were in the store, looking around and the pharmacist asked if we needed help. I told her we were looking for Pepto and she asked, “Do you have diarrhea?” My boyfriend was mortified. She hadn’t even whispered the question. She said it in a normal tone of voice! But she didn’t care. She didn’t think it was anything more embarrassing than having a cough or a headache.

I worked with students and volunteers from other countries when I was in Guatemala – foreigners like me. Part of my initiation for the newbie travelers was to tell them to be careful of what they ate and drank. After being so sick, I was more cautious ... at least with raw fruits and vegetables. But these volunteers did not listen to me. And they didn’t get sick. Not like I did anyway. One Italian couple I met had eaten food from a street vendor. They ate the exact same thing, and the woman got very sick, while her boyfriend wasn’t even fazed. My Spanish tutor, a native Guatemalan, got so sick from eating something suspect that he had to cancel our sessions for a week. Oh yes, locals get sick from bacteria too, I was informed. Like I said: crap shoot.

So when you are getting ready to travel to a developing country, remember that you can’t always avoid stomach problems, but you can be careful and aware. You can also bring along some Cipro from your doctor (or other antibiotic to kill possible stomach bacteria) and anything else your medical travel clinic recommends for possible bouts of travelers’ diarrhea.

That’s right, I said DIARRHEA!

Get used to it.

Don’t sweat the small, creepy-crawly stuff.

Another thing you can expect when traveling in the more tropical areas of Latin America- besides frizzy hair from the humidity- is seeing creatures you may not normally view so closely or at all. As I mentioned in a previous post, Latin American homes are very often quite open to the outdoors. This makes it easier for invasions of various creatures.

The reason I’m telling you this is just to prepare you so you won’t freak out. Maybe you are freaking out now, thinking, “Invasions of creatures?! Lonely Planet doesn’t mention that!” I know how some of you are when you see unwanted critters in your living space. You squeal, screech, scream, cry, jump upon furniture, run from the room in hysterics, all of the above. So you need to get over that or it’s going to be difficult for you. I’m not saying you have to like seeing such things. Not at all. I’m just saying you need to treat these creatures less as scary interlopers and more as roommates – maybe a roommate you don’t like to see or talk to or share your pizza with, but a roomie just the same.

In the places I have stayed in Latin America and the Caribbean, I have seen mice, geckos, frogs, bats, spiders, roaches, scorpions and various other animals high on the “ick” meter. I don’t really mind any of them except the cockroaches and scorpions, although I don’t scream when I see them (not loudly at least). The others I have no problem with generally speaking. I don’t want any of them in my bed mind you, but in another part of the room or house is tolerable for me.

Geckos are one of my favorite creatures and I have no issue with these little lizards that crawl up and down the walls of tropical houses and hotels, chirping their little chirp, and cleverly and kindly eating the eggs of such undesirables as cockroaches. I think they’re cute and actually enjoy seeing them (this admiration came well before those insurance commercials). One time I was visiting St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands and was staying at this great eco-resort that had tent-cabins built above the ground, connected by elevated walkways. Upon arriving, I was tired from traveling and lay down on the bed for a minute. There was this weird odor that smelled like rotten Doritos. Now, I don’t know if Doritos are capable of rotting and I certainly have never actually smelled rotten Doritos. But that is what it smelled like. Sort of like Doritos, but really, really bad, and certainly not edible. So I finally decided to look under the bed and see if the last guests had maybe left a bag of Doritos that had become all moldy or something. I did not see any Doritos or snack chips of any kind. What I did see was a dead gecko. Who knew they smelled like that? But I didn’t scream or freak out. I just went to the front desk and told them, and they promptly came in like “the Wolf” in Pulp Fiction, removed the body, and bleached the area (which was a tiny area, as geckos are tiny). If you let these things bother you, you can have nightmares, which will really put a damper on your trip. You need your sleep for exploring, hiking, snorkeling, etc. So don’t sweat it! Cycle of life and all. Yadda, yadda. (It didn’t even ruin my taste for Doritos).

On a trip to Nicaragua a couple years ago, I had a similar-ish run-in with strange roommates. I had just arrived at a nice, small hotel in Granada and went to the bathroom in my room to wash my hands. But there was something strange in the sink. “Hmmm, what is that?” I wondered. “Is that some sort of oddly placed decoration in the sink? Why would they put a carving like that inside the sink? It doesn't even match.”

Then I realized: bats! Dead bats in my sink! Woah. But I didn’t freak out. I remained calm. I have a fascination with bats, so I respect them and am not afraid of them. But still, they were dead and in my sink! So I went to the front desk to inform the staff. They came, they saw, they changed me to another room. Then I heard one of the them saying, “Están vivos! Están vivos!” Okay, so they weren’t dead afterall. I encouraged the staff not to kill the bats and they told me they are protected in Nicaragua anyway, so that wasn’t an option. So I don’t know what happened to the bats, but I just decided not to ask any follow-up questions. Ugly little things must’ve been thirsty and decided to take a nap. It happens to the best of us. I personally prefer it to happen when I’m comfortably lounging in a hammock, holding a cold, tropical cocktail.

Holy napping bats, Batman! The subjects seen here were caught drunk and passed out in my bathroom sink. I am proud to say that no freaking out occurred upon their discovery. I was even calm enough to take this lovely photo.

I have also chased and captured a frog that came through a hotel air conditioner in Puerto Rico. In the house I lived in in Panama, I would sit downstairs on the couch and watch little mice chase each other around the walls. In an adorable hotel on the shores of Lake Atitlán in Guatemala, the shared bathroom was invaded nightly by big-ass spiders (not their technical name) that just hung out on the walls and watched people pee. The hotel owner told me they were lazy and harmless, and I believed her. But I didn’t mention it to my dad and his friend who were traveling with me at the time, because I didn’t want them to freak out if they hadn’t noticed them. The subject never came up, so maybe they hadn’t noticed them.

But I’m not always brave. Although hardly a tropical locale, I once found a scorpion in my bag in Guanajuato, Mexico (I mentioned in a previous post that it is quite dry there). My mom was visiting and I made her get rid of it. If I am nonchalant about weird creatures, my mother is even more so. She rolled her eyes at my fear. And like I said, I’m not a big fan of the cockroach, but I have learned to tolerate them, get away from them, get them away from me, have someone else get them away from me, or just not think about them too much when they are in the vicinity.

In my host house in Quepos, Costa Rica, a friend I made there who stayed in a room down the hall yelled for me one night. There was a spider in her room. “Okay, I’m coming,” I said. “I don’t have a problem with spiders.” Then I got to her room and, “Holy crap!” It was a bit bigger than a daddy long-legs. I sure as heck wasn’t going to kill it, because it was the size of a small animal. So we had to capture it and put it into the arachnid relocation program. My friend Sietske went downstairs to the kitchen to get a container of some kind. Everyone was in bed, so once in the kitchen, she had to turn the lights on and quickly saw that cockroaches were out for their nightly invasion. Lots of them. She returned, thoroughly creeped out, but with a small plastic tub in hand. We put the tub over the spider on the wall, then slipped a piece of cardboard behind the tub, between the wall and the spider’s legs so we could get him (I decided he was a boy spider) into the tub and contain him. And it worked. We ran down the stairs -- piece of cardboard over the top of the tub to prevent Spidey’s escape -- out of the house, into the street, and to the corner so as to get him as far from the house as possible.

Guess what was in my room the next night? Yep. The spider had returned and wanted me to know that my genius plan had not worked. So I just said “Okay, you win. You don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” And there were no problems. I was impressed he understood my English.

If I were to see most of these creatures at home in the U.S., I would be appalled and quite disconcerted. But when I’m traveling, I just see it as a part of the environment and something new. My frame of mind changes when I travel. Everything is a new experience; everything is part of the charm, even the creepy-crawly things. I don’t necessarily want these critters getting too close, but I figure if I’m visiting their country, the least I can do is give them a little space.

Sunshine on your shoulders ... may not make you happy.

I have talked about the surprisingly cold temperatures you may encounter in certain parts of Latin America. I would like to add that even if you're in those higher, dryer elevations with cooler temperatures, the sun can still fry you like a chimichanga de pollo. And when you’re close to the ocean, on a beach, cooling off from the heat and humidity, the use of sunscreen has to be used with greater frequency than you might think. I know that of which I speak.

When I was in Quito, Ecuador, the average daytime temperature was probably between 60 and 65 degrees (F), so I wasn’t too worried about the sun because I was in jeans and long-sleeved shirts a lot of the time. One day, my Spanish school took a field trip to some hot springs. They were located outside the city, in the village of Papallacta, and at a higher elevation than the already highly elevated Quito. All the way up, it was cloudy, foggy, and drizzling rain. When we got to the hot springs, it was the same. It was so cloudy that the clouds were right there with us, lounging by the pool, hardly moving. It lightly rained the entire time. After our relaxing lounge in the thermal pools, we had a meal on the way home, and then returned to the school. I went to the bathroom and discovered my thighs were bright red. And they felt hot and stung to the touch. I was sunburned! I told the others and a few said that they, too, were burned. We got sunburned in the freakin’ rain! So this is what happens when you are way up there (Papallacta’s altitude is over 10,000 feet) and practically sitting on the equator. Who knew?

In a more tropical area, at a beach in Panama, I had put plenty of sunscreen on for a couple of hours on the sand. Or so I thought. I enjoyed the beach on this typically hot day, and got into the water for a swim now and then to cool off. I had been hanging out with a guy from California and his Panamanian uncle, both of whom I had met on the ferry over to Taboga, a little island about 45 minutes from Panama City. After enough time on the beach, we were having lunch on an outdoor patio and my shoulders, neck and upper back just didn’t feel right. I asked them, “Am I totally sunburned, or what?” And they said, “Oh yes, it certainly looks that way.” I had arrogantly forgotten to reapply the necessary sunscreen after my dips in the ocean! Mr. California swore that the cure for my woes was some vinegar. “It draws out the heat,” he said. So we walked to a little store on the island and I bought some vinegar and applied it to my sunburn, various times. The burn continued to hurt like hell and I proceeded to smell like a jar of pickles for the rest of my stay. Reapply sunscreen; lesson learned.

Closer to the sun, closer to the equator, in any climate or weather, the odds of you not getting a little fried in Latin America are against you if you don’t take the necessary precautions. Even without heat and full-on sunshine, you can get zapped and suffer for it. As you are enjoying all the wonderful outdoor activities there are in Latin America, just remember the power of the sun. Learn from my mistakes and you won’t get burned.