Travelling Alone – As a Woman

I mentioned in my previous post that people are always so shocked when I tell them I travelled alone, and it seems that the biggest issue they have with that is that I’m a woman. I guess they are assuming that I would have a particularly hard time travelling alone since we live in a patriarchal world where women actually have to think about things like how not to get raped. There are definitely different attitudes towards women in different parts of the world, and some countries consist of cultures that endorse disrespect and violence towards women more than others. I’m not here to pass judgment on different cultures per se, or discuss politics in any way. Those issues are far too complex for me to delve into on my blog, and I don’t necessarily have a resolute opinion on them. That said, I’m all for gender equality, and being treated with disrespect because I am a woman is one of my least favourite things about travelling, and life in general. I just want to explain how I perceived my travel experiences to be different from a man’s travel experiences, how I dealt with harassment, and why it shouldn’t be a reason for women not to travel on their own.

Yes, I did experience sexual harassment while I was away, but no, it did not detract from my travel experience. Guess what! I’ve been sexually harassed in Canada too! Just yesterday I decided to wear a dress because it was so nice out in Toronto. I felt nervous about someone commenting on it the whole time I was walking outside. Sure enough, some random older man mumbled, “looking sexy” as he passed me on the sidewalk. Ugh. That doesn’t make me want to leave Canada; it just makes me wish that the world were different. Sexism and sexual harassment are issues that women deal with constantly, be it consciously or not, or while they are travelling or not. I can’t say too much about what it’s like to be a local woman in most of the countries that I visited, and I also can't really say what it's like to be anything other than a woman, so I want to be clear that what I’m writing is only about how I perceived my gender affected the way I was treated when I was abroad. I apologize for the gender-normative perspective of this post!

While travelling in many places I stand out because I look different; the unwanted attention I get is therefore partially because I’m a foreigner. All travellers get harassed to a certain extent for being foreigners, regardless of gender. This usually comes in the form of people trying very hard to sell you something, and occasionally people are rude because they simply resent you for being more privileged than they are. There is some positive attention received too, like when people want to take a picture with you, or just talk to you because you’re so different. I totally understand and accept that while I’m walking around staring at people from other cultures, they are staring at me as well. But I also received a lot of unwanted attention from men in the form of whistles, gross comments, rude gestures, etc. that had more to do with me being a woman than me being a foreigner.

There were some countries in which I received little to no harassment, including all of the countries where I didn’t stand out from the locals due to my looks (Chile, Argentina, Australia, and New Zealand). I was also not much bothered in Bolivia, Burma, or Thailand. It seemed like people in Bolivia and Burma were generally more timid and polite when it came to talking to foreigners, whether they be male or female. Additionally, I was just one in a zillion backpackers in Thailand, so I didn’t really stand out and get incessantly harassed there either. Just don’t get me started on Yan, the craziest woman-hating hostel manager ever, who operates out of Haad Rin in Koh Phagnan, Thailand.

Same same but different - it's hard to stand out in this crowd! Full Moon Party, Thailand

I have never been physically assaulted in a violent manner; as such, most of the abuse I received was verbal. There was the occasional ass grab or forced hug that I did not want at all, but I was never really afraid of my life being in danger due to sexual harassment. Instead I was just afraid of freely talking to people, in case I gave them the wrong impression. And that sucked! Why should I have to put up with that crap just because I’m a woman?

I was upset that when someone shouted a lewd comment at me, I wasn’t able to do anything to make them treat me like any other human being. It seemed like no matter what I said or gestured back to someone harassing me, all I would get was a bigger response and more attention than I was looking for. For example, giving someone the finger, my biggest defense in the past, seemed to have zero effect in South America, a place where the macho culture of harassment became particularly tiresome. I complained to my mother about this and she told me that in Spain, people gave “devil horns” and maybe that would have a greater effect than the middle finger. Devil horns involve sticking up only your pinky and index finger. One day I was sitting on a bench with a female friend in a small town in Northern Peru, when a much older man passed by and whistled at us. I decided to put the devil horns to the test and slowly raised my hand while staring back at him. The man was shocked. He literally gasped and covered his face with his hands. It worked! Or so I thought. The man ended up thinking it was hilarious and kept coming back to stare and whistle at us more. Conclusion: the best thing you can do when people are behaving like that is to ignore them. But that is easier said than done, especially when you’ve been travelling and dealing with disrespectful men for a long time.

I have had some less-than-proud moments in dealing with sexual harassment in my travels. One day stands out in particular: I was in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, again. KL is one of my least favourite cities in the world, mainly due to the huge population, the heat, and the atrocious air quality; however it’s a major travel hub so I spent more time there than I would have liked. At one point I was staying in a hostel in the Indian Quarter, and had been dealing with men staring at me and wanting to shake my hand and touch me for a couple of days already. I was walking down the street back to my hostel, feeling generally irritated because of the city, when I passed by a bunch of guys leaning against cars. The first guy I passed said something like, “Hey, sexy lady!” I ignored him. The next guy said something similar and I replied with, “Fuck off!” and gave him the finger. The third guy in line said something similar as well, and I must have looked at him with crazy eyes because he followed it up with a very concerned sounding, “Are you OK?” I threw my arms up and said, “No, I’m not OK! All of you leave me alone!” And with that I ran back to my hostel and didn’t come out for the rest of the day. I even started writing a giant essay about disrespect on my iPod Touch, which helped me cool down. I felt bad because I blew up at that one guy, when really it was the collective harassment I had been receiving that made me so angry. Obviously that one guy wasn’t trying to be malicious, but for some reason he thought I would be OK with him making comments as I walked past him on my own.

Petronas Towers - a symbol of modernity in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

I’ve had friends tell me that I’m overly sensitive to sexual harassment. I’ve heard that I shouldn’t mind it because it’s part of the culture, that I should take it as a compliment, or that it’s just not a big deal. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s fine for people to express romantic interest in each other; but it shouldn’t be done in a way that makes the other person feel like some kind of target. What exactly does sitting on the side of the road, spewing lewd comments about someone’s appearance as they walk past you really accomplish? That is, besides make someone feel self-conscious and worried that a stranger might advance upon him/her. I wonder how often, “Hey sexy lady, want to come with me?” actually works. I hope never!

I want to note that men experience sexual harassment from local and foreign women while travelling as well. I have heard accounts of men being badgered and receiving unwanted gropes while trying to be friendly and mingling with others. This is equally unacceptable, but from my experience it is a much less pervasive problem.

I also want to acknowledge the fact that in some instances perceived sexual harassment is the result of a miscommunication caused by differences in cultural norms regarding romantic relationships. I have met many men and women who went dancing one night, kissed a local person, and suddenly found themselves in what seemed like a serious relationship with a borderline stalker. It’s important to read up on what the standard practice for courtship is before going to a country. Equally, it’s important to present yourself in accordance with local customs. For example, I wouldn’t walk around a Muslim-majority country in skimpy clothing, no matter how hot it was, because I understand that modesty is important in such a culture. I may not agree with the concept, but I respect other people’s beliefs and I also just don’t want that kind of attention.

Respectfully covered up during my visit to Angkor Wat (the largest religious monument in the world) in Cambodia, despite the crazy heat!

I feel like my post has been pretty negative up until this point, but I’m just picking out specific examples to elucidate what kind of sexual harassment I experienced. Obviously I had an amazing time travelling for two years, and there were so many more positive experiences than negative ones. The balance was completely tipped towards the side of awesome, and I never dwelled on the bad experiences for long. I want to share a really positive story now to give you a glimpse of the other side of my gender-specific experience.

As mentioned above, I found Burma to be filled with a lot of wonderful, respectful people. I think I met one mean guy in the whole country, and I was there for over three weeks! A great deal of this is owed to the fact that tourists have not visited the country very much up until now. The concept of making money off of rich visitors hasn’t really sunken in, and men don’t find it appropriate to harass foreign women yet. On the contrary, people are really excited to see tourists in their country and wish to show them a great time.

My time in Burma was amazing every step of the way, but the most epic part was when I went to the 67^th annual Taunggyi Fire Balloon Festival. The whole idea of the festival is ridiculously amazing in and of itself. I mean, giant hot air balloons exploding with fireworks in the night sky? Whaaat?! I went to the festival one night with a large crowd of travellers that I met along the way, and we had a lot of fun together. But what really made the festival an experience to remember was the men. I heard reports of 100,000 people being present the night that I went. Imagine an endless sea of drunken people dancing and having a great time. Most of the women were sitting on the sidelines to watch the explosions, so now imagine that the endless sea of people was really an endless sea of men. When our group first got down to the action I was a little apprehensive. People were partying hard and I was afraid that being surrounded by all these young, drunk guys might lead to trouble. It didn’t. At one point we made it down to the carnival ride area (that’s a whole other story!) and there was a dance party/mosh pit going on. The men were all dancing with each other, grabbing each other’s hands, jumping up and down, hugging, and even kissing! At first they only grabbed the men in our travel group to join in, but then one guy must have taken pity on me and grabbed my hand too. This resulted in me holding hands with a ton of men and jumping up and down for the next couple of hours. Again, I was nervous about giving someone the wrong idea or someone taking advantage of me in this situation. I felt very vulnerable being surrounded by all these rowdy guys, but I soon realized that they weren’t going to do anything different to me just because I was a woman (besides the one dude with a mental illness who put my finger in his mouth when I wasn’t looking!). They all just genuinely wanted me and my friends to have a good time, and damn, I had a great night! It was such an intense experience, and I thank those men for showing me hospitality and respect.

A hot air balloon exploding over the giant crowd at the Taunggyi Fire Balloon Festival in Burma

Mob of men dancing their asses off at the Taunggyi Fire Balloon Festival

To sum it all up, I did receive sexual harassment in many places when I was travelling, and it often seemed to stem from the fact that I was a foreign woman. I’m sure there are many reasons why the impression that single women love random guys directing sexual comments towards them has pervaded many cultures, but it makes me angry. I fully encourage solo travel as a woman in all of the countries I have been to, but it’s important to keep in mind that in some places it is acceptable to objectify women to such a great degree, and that what are considered normal actions at home may be considered flirtatious or promiscuous in other cultures. It is also important not to let sexist crap get in your way of enjoying a culture and getting to know individuals who come from a completely different world than you do. There are disrespectful people everywhere you go in the world, but I’ve found that there are a lot more good, respectful people. Go meet the good people!

Flying Solo

The reaction I most often get when I talk about my travel experiences is shock and awe that I travelled alone, especially being that I’m a woman. I have a lot to say on both topics independently so I’m going to focus on the "being alone" part in this post. The next installment will be about my feelings on being a travelling independent diva, and the sexual harassment I encountered around the world. The main point I want to get across in this post is that it is very easy to make friends while travelling, so you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be!

Believe it or not, I consider myself shy. I had anxiety issues as a child, and I’m often stuck inside my head. I came out of my shell a lot when I started university, but I’m still introverted and need my alone time to recharge after being in social situations. That said, I love making new connections and I like to keep busy, so I tend to be a bit of a social organizer and quickly establish a friend network whenever I go somewhere new. Travelling has helped me gain a great deal of confidence when it comes to talking to strangers and pushing myself outside of my comfort zone. It turns out that most people in the world are really nice! Additionally, most people, especially travellers, are also seeking new friendships and are extremely open to establishing a connection with another human being.

I travelled alone a few times before I left on my big trip. The first time was when I was 20 years old and spent a summer interning at the University of Bayreuth in Bavaria, Germany. I took every opportunity I had to explore more of Germany and Europe that summer. Every weekend I went to a new city, and thanks to Facebook I was able to meet up with other North Americans doing internships in different parts of Germany. Friendships were quickly formed and I ended up travelling with the same people more than once. I’m pretty sure I developed a laughing problem, and I got to see so many beautiful things that I didn’t even know existed before! I felt so free. I had very few responsibilities, and nobody knew me so I felt like I could just be myself – there were few social expectations, and few consequences.

A group of interns hanging out in Prague, 2007

The summer after that one I headed to Montreal, another place where I didn’t know anybody. Before I moved there and embarked on my Master’s training I wanted to travel somewhere new. I only had three weeks to spare, and nobody to travel with, so I booked a guided adventure tour through Costa Rica. I felt comfortable going alone since I would be in a tour group, and I already knew that I didn’t need my friends to travel with me to have fun. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Costa Rica, and when I returned to Canada, I thoroughly enjoyed moving to Montreal. All of these amazing experiences contributed to why I didn’t have many qualms about leaving Canada on my own to see more of the world after completing my Master’s.

Even though I was a bit nervous before leaving (mainly about not meeting people, and being lonely), I was not really worried that something bad was going to happen to me. Nothing ever had before. I was sad to be leaving my friends and family for such a long time, but I was definitely not as scared of leaving as everyone else in my life was. So many people told me I was crazy for going alone that I was beginning to believe it. As I took the bus from Toronto to NYC, where I started my adventure, I really pondered the idea that I was insane and just didn’t realize it. What was everyone else seeing that I wasn’t? Nonetheless, after spending a fun week in NYC with some friends, I flew to Colombia with everything I thought I would need on my back.

NYC - $1 beer?! The world is a truly wonderful place!

I had an overnight layover in Bogota, which I spent sleeping in the airport. I parked myself in front of the police station and tried to sleep, but I swear the woman vacuuming the place had it in for me, and I barely slept a wink. I finally arrived in sweltering hot Cartagena at 8:30 am. I wasn’t able to check into my hostel until 2 pm so I put my bag in storage, took a shower, and went to the common area. Everyone was getting ready for their day and I felt a little out of place. After checking my email a few times and pretending I had something to do for a while, I finally approached a group of people my age and introduced myself. They had all just met each other at the hostel and were super friendly. I spent a few days with them exploring the area, and from then on I didn’t fear being alone.

3rd day of my trip - El Totumo Mud Volcano near Cartagena, Colombia

While backpacking in South America, Australia, New Zealand, and Southeast Asia, I made the majority of my friends in the hostels I stayed in. Although I was travelling alone, I was almost never actually alone. What people who don’t travel don’t realize is that there are thousands of us crazies out there. I encountered so many different people doing similar trips to mine, and all of them were equally open to meeting new people and discovering new places as I was. I would often meet a person or a group of people at a hostel and end up travelling with them for a few days or a few weeks. Each of us had our own goals, so we would eventually part ways, but sometimes we would meet up again, either randomly or on purpose. I became part of a very strong network of travellers who became my family while I was away. Despite everyone being so different, all of us travellers shared one important trait – wanderlust. This served as a common ground for relationships to be built upon. When you’re backpacking, you only need one big night out to solidify a friendship and trust someone with your life. The intensity of living every day, as well as the sheer amount of new experiences you fit into a week while travelling creates a very strong bond between people who meet on the road.

Quito, Ecuador - One of the best groups I travelled with!

Lima, Peru - Magical Fountain Circuit with another awesome group of travel buddies.

Turbulence! Full Moon Party, Thailand

After a shift at the Dolphin Shack in Sihanoukville, Cambodia - We all snuggled and fell asleep watching Disney movies :)

I did often take the bus from one town to another by myself, but I actually treasured that alone time. My introverted self needed to recharge after being with other people for such a prolonged amount of time. Additionally, saying goodbye over and over again is emotionally draining, and I needed time alone to come to terms with it, and psych myself up for doing it all over again.

I spent a long time actually living in Australia and not staying in hostels. So how did I meet people there, you ask? A few of my friends were coworkers and housemates, but I made the majority of my friends through the wonderful world of Couchsurfing! I almost feel like the topic of Couchsurfing  deserves its own separate post, and maybe I will write one eventually, but it is really integral to how I met people during a good portion of my time abroad so I’m going to include it in here. Couchsurfing.org is a website that was originally created to facilitate finding a place to crash while in a new city. It has evolved into an amazing online community of travellers and internationally-minded people who are not only willing to host a stranger in their home, or be a stranger in someone else’s home, but who also just like meeting new people in the city they live in. I had been part of Couchsurfing (CS) for a couple of years before I left, but my experiences were limited to attending a few very French parties in Montreal, and meeting couchsurfers who were staying with my friends. When I looked into hostels in Australia I almost shat myself because they were so expensive compared to South America, so I turned to CS as an alternative. I ended up being hosted by the always charming and enthusiastic Will, and very quickly became enchanted with the CS community in Melbourne.

After finding a place to live and leaving Will’s apartment, I started attending CS events in Melbourne. There are a lot of them! I soon had something to do almost every night of the week, and I met a ton of incredible people. When I moved to Brisbane, I again went to a CS event (lawn bowls!) to meet people. I lucked out and met a group of ridiculously cool travellers who had just moved there as well, which led to having an amazing time in Brisbane too. Just like backpackers had, couchsurfers became my family and I never felt alone for the year I lived in Oz. I also couchsurfed and used CS to meet locals in a few other countries while I was travelling. Always a good experience!

Australia Day CS human pyramid in Melbourne! (not sure whose photo this is!)

Just being happy (not picking my nose!) in Melbourne :) (photo credit: Solange Herrera)

Nimbin MardiGrass Festival!

Sexy times with the Brisbane CS crew

While it’s hard for me to admit, there are some downsides to travelling alone. The main one is actually being alone when things get shitty. This could happen a few ways, but my only bad experience was literally very shitty – I got terrible food poisoning! I won’t go into details (maybe in another post!), but I had just gone off on my own in Peru when I got sick and ended up spending three days locked in a bathroom in a terrible hostel, with nobody to take care of me except the cleaning lady who thought I was a very weird gringa! On the flipside, I ended up meeting some great people because I decided to go to a big city and rest instead of going hiking in the mountains. And because I was ill for a while, I was eventually cared for by some truly kind people. I was also injured in Melbourne (I think I’ll save that embarrassing story for another post as well), and again was the recipient of the kindness of international strangers (couchsurfers, this time) who took care of me. I just want to note that going through that hard time alone definitely developed my character and my independence. Yes, all I wanted was my mommy when I was sick, but she couldn’t fly down and I ended up getting through it just fine. If I can endure an experience like that, I’m pretty confident that I can endure most things that life throws my way.

Another negative aspect to travelling alone is the constant goodbyes. You think you’d get used to it, but it just never gets easier. I heard the following lyric from a songwriter I met when I was in Vilcabamba, Ecuador: “Hate to leave, but love to go.” That perfectly sums up the feeling you get when you move from one place to another. After putting your heart and soul into friendships and getting to know a place, it’s very difficult to leave and start fresh; however wanderlust constantly pulls us travellers and we keep on moving. Although it can be sad or even heartbreaking to leave someone you’ve bonded with, at least you’re left with a meaningful experience and the knowledge that one day you’ll have a place to crash if you happen to travel to the country someone you met along the way lives in.

Completely lost during a hike in Vilcabamba, Ecuador.
Even if you don't know where you're going, you just gotta keep moving forward!

On the other hand, sometimes the person you’re travelling with turns out to be a jerk face, and he starts ruining your precious time abroad. The beauty of solo travel is that you can say, “Sayonora, asshat!” and just leave. I had to do that once or twice, and the moment I was alone again I felt my freedom return and was much happier.

For me it wasn’t just that I wanted to see new places or get away from someone I didn’t like; I often separated from my travel buddies because I just felt that it was time to strike out on my own again. I love travelling with people, whether they are old friends or new ones, but my experience is that after a while I start becoming too comfortable and isolated, and I need to venture off on my own if I want to have more interesting experiences. While it is nice to always have someone have your back, and clean you up after you puke on yourself, travelling with someone else means that you play it safe. If you already have a friend, your need to make new ones diminishes, and as a result you reduce the amount of cool people you meet and new experiences that you have.

One reason people are afraid to travel alone is they think they will be more vulnerable to crime. From my experience, that simply is not true. I will talk about crime in another post, but I really want to assert that being afraid of being a victim is not a good reason to avoid travelling solo. Yes, some parts of the world are more dangerous than others, and yes it is probable that a mugger will attack someone walking alone more often than someone walking in a group; however I would question why someone is walking alone in a dangerous area when there are so many opportunities to avoid that type of situation. Additionally, there are a lot of people available to help you if you find yourself in a pickle - you don’t need your best friend from grade 3 to be by your side. People are afraid of what they don’t know, but the truth is that there are good and bad people anywhere you go. Don't let the bad people hold you back!

And with that rant I come to the end of this post. Don’t be afraid to travel solo! The hardest step is the first one, and after you take it you realize that meeting people and seeing the world is easy as pie! Making friends on the road is far easier than making friends in your hometown, where people are stuck in their ways. You will not only have the time of your life if you travel on your own, but you will gain so much confidence in yourself and the rest of humanity that you will be changed forever. I cannot stress enough how brilliant it is to go off on your own and experience the freedom of solo travel. DO IT!

Freeeedom! (photo credit: Grant Smith)

The Art of Nearly Dying

I thought I’d make my second post about something light-hearted – near-death experiences! I really wanted to talk about why I, along with many other travelers, am a thrill-seeker, or a bit of an adrenaline junkie. I was planning on discussing how living on the edge makes me feel more alive, but the more I thought about the topic, and the more I Googled it, the more I came to realize that it’s an extremely complicated subject.

Obviously a lot of biology is involved. The term adrenaline junkie refers to the addiction some people have to the rush of epinephrine (aka adrenaline), dopamine, and endorphins that are released to the pleasure center of the brain when one is in a fight-or-flight situation. That means that people will put themselves in risky situations on purpose to induce this chemical response. Highly stimulating activities will produce large rewards, neurochemically. I haven’t thoroughly researched the topic, but I did read one article about "brakes" on the autoreceptors controlling the release of dopamine. Apparently low thrill seekers have a lot of brakes, and high thrill seekers have very few brakes. Check the article out here: http://www.sciencentral.com/video/2009/03/11/thrill-seekers-lack-brakes-in-the-brain/

So maybe I enjoy doing a tree pose at the edge of a cliff because I don’t have many of these brakes, but I also read that many adrenaline junkies cause stress in their everyday lives to feel a continuous level of excitement. They often do this by getting into arguments and surrounding themselves with a lot of drama. I definitely do not do that; however now that I think about it, I guess that’s why I travel the way I do. Being in a new place on my own all the time keeps me on high alert and keeps that pleasure center pumping. It’s hard to say if that’s completely true since I've met many solo travelers who are afraid of heights. Like I said, complicated!

Regardless, I would really just like to convey how I feel when I’m in a risky situation, and how I reason myself into tough spots. First off, I don’t have any phobias. I love heights, snakes, spiders, and all that jazz. Yes, I’m shaking like a leaf when I’m about to jump off a cliff because there is a higher chance of hurting myself than if I don’t jump, but I’ll still definitely do it. That fear translates into a feeling of excitement that I can’t live without. That said, I’ll usually only jump provided someone jumps before me to prove that I probably won’t hurt myself. That’s just sound logic. For me it’s hard to understand irrational fears. Why are some people more afraid to fly in a plane than drive in a car when the latter is far more dangerous? Again, this has a lot to do with neurobiology and psychology, which I don’t want to get into. I’m just saying that singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” when I was a kid must have conditioned me to think that spiders are cute, and I don’t get how people could possibly hate something that eats mosquitoes!!!

Cool spider near some Shan villages in Burma

So part of why I seek out thrills is probably neurochemically defined, and part of it is psychological in that I can rationalize my activities, and I do risky things to prove to myself that I can. The most rewarding experiences of my life have also been some of the most challenging and death-defying. I have countless examples of these types of experiences, including white water rafting trips, bungee jumps (including a naked bungee jump!), body boarding down rapids, sandboarding, climbing Machu Picchu, crossing (and almost falling off) a makeshift log bridge while passing over a river with rapids and sharp rocks below, swing jumps, sliding down waterfalls, skydiving, cliff jumping, zip-lining, being in a taxi with no seat belt in some countries, and cycling down El Camino de la Muerte, aka “The World’s Most Dangerous Road" or "Death Road,” in Bolivia. 

The bridge I almost fell off of on our trek to Machu Picchu

Sliding down a waterfall outside of Pai, Thailand

Post Card Corner on Death Road, Bolivia

Sandboarding in Huacachina, Peru

Rappelling down waterfalls in La Fortuna, Costa Rica in 2008

I had to psych myself up to do each one of these things, and I am so satisfied that I did them. I could tell you the full story of all of those events and more, but I really want to go into detail about my most significant thrilling experience. It’s a story that I’ve wanted to share for a while because it reminds me of the power of mind over matter, and the importance of opening myself up to new experiences. I’m going to tell you about the time I climbed Cotopaxi, a glaciated volcano in Ecuador.

(Bear with me, this is a bit long-winded!)

Cotopaxi is allegedly the “most symmetrical volcano in the world,” and it’s really freaking beautiful. It is located just south of Quito, has one of the few equatorial glaciers in the world, and is one of the highest active volcanoes in the world. The peak of Cotopaxi is 5,897 masl. The sheer altitude of it is the most significant challenge of climbing it, especially for someone who hasn’t acclimatized, like I hadn’t! Altitude sickness usually occurs above 2,400 metres, and can manifest itself in many forms, including fatigue, dizziness, nausea, headache, and more severely, pulmonary and cerebral edema. Just getting from the carpark (4600 m) to the base camp (4810 m) took me between half an hour and an hour, depending on how hard I pushed myself and how much like death I wanted to feel.

View of Cotopaxi in the morning from the Secret Garden Hostel (photo credit: Noah)

Because Cotopaxi is glaciated, making it to the top involves using an ice axe, wearing a helmet and crampons, and being tied to other people by rope. Glaciers have crevasses (deep cracks) in them, which ups the danger factor of climbing Cotopaxi, but in general it is considered a pretty straightforward climb. On average it takes about six hours to get from the base camp (aka Refugio José Ribas) to the summit, and it is climbed in the middle of the night.

The reason I climbed Cotopaxi was because my travel buddy, Noah, wanted to do it. I hadn’t even heard of Cotopaxi a week prior to climbing it, and after I did hear about it I was terrified of attempting the climb. I had barely spent any time at elevation beforehand, and I had certainly never climbed something like that before. Nevertheless, we made our way into the mountains and spent the few days leading up to the climb at the best hostel I have ever stayed in: Secret Garden Cotopaxi (http://secretgardencotopaxi.com/). It’s gorgeous all around there (too bad my camera broke before we went!), they had some great staff, and because there is no internet and nowhere to go in the mountains, everyone in the hostel ate meals together and enjoyed each other’s company completely. During those few days we mountain biked down the base of Cotopaxi (holy balls that was fun!), went on a river hike in the middle of a hail storm (our guide Scotty was struck by lightening when we got back! Don’t worry, he was fine), and climbed Pasochoa (an extinct volcano that’s 4,200 masl). All of those activities were ridiculously fun, but also warned me of how difficult climbing Cotopaxi would be. I was really tired and experienced shortness of breath a lot. I also kept meeting people who either didn’t make it to the top when they attempted the summit, or told me that it was the hardest thing they ever did. We spent some time in the Refugio before our mountain bike ride, and a couple of experienced climbers told us that we shouldn’t attempt the climb. They told us how much they had trained for it, which scared the shit out of me since I hadn’t trained at all. I was pretty convinced not to climb after that, but Noah had a completely different reaction than I did and was all the more determined to make it to the top. He convinced me to do it again, and I fully committed myself to going.

Secret Garden Hostel Cotopaxi (photo credit: Noah)

About to cycle down the base of Cotopaxi in our sweet new hats (photo credit: Noah) 

River hike in a hail storm (photo credit: Noah) 

At the highest peak of Pasochoa! (photo credit: Jesse)

The day of the climb I was somewhere between hyperventilating and peeing my pants when we got picked up by our guides to go. There were four of us in the same group: Jesse – a Brit who I believe worked as a sort of wilderness guide in Russia, Bruno – a surprisingly fit sixty something year old from Switzerland who was cycling from L.A. to Argentina, Noah – an awesome Brit who I had been travelling with for a month already, and myself. We would be going up in two groups: Bruno and Jesse with one guide, and Noah and myself with another. We had a short training session, ate a pretty shoddy dinner at 6 pm at the Refugio, and were then told to go to sleep until midnight. The Refugio was beyond freezing, and sleeping in a room filled with 3-level bunk beds and grizzly old men is not as glamorous as it sounds. I think I drifted off to sleep for about an hour and then woke myself up because I covered my face with my sleeping bag and couldn't breathe. At midnight all the groups attempting the climb were ready to go, but our guides told us we might have to cancel the trip because it had just snowed. The fresh snow apparently created dangerous climbing conditions, and we were to wait a bit to see if things were safe. I was partially upset because I was about to lose all the money I paid for the experience, but I mostly felt relieved that I wouldn't have to put my body through hell and possibly endure the embarrassment of not making it to the top. Fortunately, at 2 am they cleared us for climbing, and we set off!

Base camp (photo credit: Noah) 

Where we "slept" before our climb (photo credit: Noah) 

The first hour of the climb was horrible. I felt sick to my stomach the entire time and I decided that I wasn't even going to attempt making it to the summit. My goal was to reach the glacier (5000 m), and then turn back. I told myself I would be happy with that, but when we got to the glacier our guide asked if I wanted to quit and something inside of me said no. I took off a layer of clothing because it turned out I was overheating, and that was causing most of my nausea. I also turned on my iPod and the Proclaimers’ “500 Miles” came on. All of a sudden I had a renewed vigour and was ready to march on.

All I can really say about the next five hours is that I felt like crap the entire time. I was trying to appreciate the beauty of the night sky and enjoy the freshest air that I had ever breathed, but I had to keep stopping to catch my breath and it was difficult to ignore the pain I felt all over. I kept a steady rhythm of right foot, left foot, axe, while I climbed. Being in the middle of our three person group, I could feel tension on the rope from our guide up front, and Noah behind me the whole time. Somehow, every time our guide asked if I wanted to turn back I managed to say no and keep going. Because we started late, and because we were one of the slower groups, the sun was already up as we approached the summit. I remember that at one point near the end there was a 60 degree incline that was covered in powdery snow that I could barely get up. I felt like crying, but I was past the point of no return so I kept at it until I got over that point. I was so tired that I could barely make it two steps without needing a break when our guide told us there was only half an hour left. To me that seemed like the longest amount of time in the world, but I got back up and kept going. Turns out our guide was tricking us and next thing I knew we were at the top!

The moment I realized we had summited the volcano was one of the best moments of my life. The joy that flowed through me made the hellish six hours it took to get up worth it. There were already quite a few people at the top, as we were some of the last to make it (not by much!), so we joined everyone and looked around in wonder. I was the only woman who made it all the way up that day, and most of the people up there were serious climbers, or had done a training course before going up. The pride I felt in myself combined with the beauty surrounding me is something I will never forget. The sky was a ridiculous blue, and you could see fantastic clouds and volcanoes all around us in the distance. One of the most amazing things was looking into the crater of the volcano, and smelling the sulphur from it. It made me really appreciate where I was and what I had achieved. We saw a double (possibly triple) rainbow arching over the shadow of the volcano, and I was like, “Ooooh myyy gooodd! Double rainbow all the way across the sky!!!” I wanted to do a cartwheel in glee, but I was still wearing all my gear and gravity felt so strong up there that I wouldn’t have been able to lift my feet off the ground if I tried.

Group picture at the top!!! (photo credit: Noah) 

Crater (photo credit: Noah)

Looking satisfied! (photo credit: Noah) 

The closest I came to doing a cartwheel (photo credit: Noah) 

Then the volcano erupted! We all ran or our lives and I made it through the ensuing avalanche by the skin of my teeth!                                                

Just kidding! The last time Cotopaxi erupted was in 1940.

What really happened was that we stayed at the top for about half an hour before we had to begin the descent back to the Refugio. For some people going down was harder than going up, but I found going down much easier. And by much easier I mean ridiculously hard. At this point we were all completely exhausted. Having pretty much not slept in over 24 hours and enduring the effects of altitude sickness, I was feeling like a piece of poo on a hot summer’s day. The glacier shone in the sunlight and my eyes were burning behind my cheap sunglasses. The snow was melting and sticking to my crampons, making it really hard not to fall over all the time. We would have slid down on our bums, but you can’t do that on a glacier due to the crazy deep crevasses everywhere.

On the way down (photo credit: Noah) 

One of the best parts occurred on the way down. There was only one point on the whole climb that we had to clip ourselves to a fixed rope in the ice because we had to traverse a very narrow ridge, and slipping would mean falling down a sheer drop to our death. Going up I had no problem with this part, but on the way down I had just clipped myself to the rope when I slipped! Noah is afraid of heights so when he looked back and saw me dangling there I think he almost had a heart attack haha. Our guide pulled me up by the rope and I made it over safely. I gotta say, that was one of the most thrilling experiences ever!!!

We slowly continued down, minding the vomit everywhere that we hadn’t seen during the night. We got to slide down the very last bit that wasn’t covered by the glacier, and when we finally made it back to base camp at around 11:30 am, I felt my body shutting down. Upon the advice of everyone else, I forced myself to eat to help my body recover, but I really just felt like lying down and going to sleep. Noah and I made the call to immediately get out of the mountains and hop on a bus to Baños, another town in Ecuador, instead of stay another night at the hostel – probably to save money, as we were cheap backpackers! It was a bumpy and crowded 3 hour bus ride, and I hurt absolutely everywhere. I’m pretty sure I had a fever and I was finding it hard to remember why I put my body through so much agony; however once we reached our destination I took an amazing shower, and it all came rushing back to me. I made it!!! I had reached the summit of Cotopaxi!

So to sum everything up, climbing Cotopaxi was one of the best things I’ve ever done, and I did it on a whim. It proved to me that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. Who knows what else is in store if I keep myself open to new and challenging experiences!? Some people may say that engaging in risky behavior for the thrills is crazy. I say there are many reasons to look death in the eye and laugh. I know there are legitimate reasons why other people are more averse to risk and pushing themselves outside of their comfort zone, but I think those people should challenge themselves daily in their own way; even if that just means stepping on the glass floor of the CN Tower, or talking to a random person on the subway. I believe in taking calculated risks because they are the spice of life. I’m not going to look back on my life when I’m older and think, “Gosh darnit! I wish I had gotten a good night’s sleep that one time, or stayed home and watched TV that other day instead of dancing all night with a bunch of strangers and climbing a volcano.” I plan on living my life so that I can die happy at any moment. So far so good. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow has in store!

$Money$/Motivation

I decided to make the first entry about the all mighty dollar - not because I think it’s the most important thing when it comes to travelling, but because that’s what most people ask me about! I also think it directly ties in with motivation to travel, which is the most important thing. So, how the hell did I do it? Here’s my story about saving enough money to travel.

I went directly from high school to undergrad to grad school, and then only worked for a few months at a shitty hourly wage before I left to travel. Despite this I was able to save enough to spend two years abroad doing every crazy thing I could come up with (and actually wanted to do! Let's just say there are some pretty messed up things out there that I wouldn't want to do... e.g. blowing up cows with bazookas, ingesting all sorts of disgusting things, etc.). The reason I could afford to experience so much is simple – I’m super cheap. No, really. Ask anyone. I’m also a hard worker, and pretty lucky… that helped.

One of the crazy things I did - The World's Biggest Swing!

Basically, my story goes something like this. I have wonderful parents and I also earned a huge scholarship, which meant I was able to escape undergrad with zero debt. I worked every summer so was able to fund my travels and other expenses prior to grad school with that. I got paid during my Master’s via TAing and scholarships, and though that amount was extremely small (I believe it would be considered below the poverty threshold) I put most of it into savings. While my friends were living paycheck to paycheck I had money growing in the bank. I then spent the money I saved up to that point backpacking all over South America. I went to Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, and Argentina. Holy shit those were some of the best six months of my life.

To me saving money has always been simple. Whenever I buy something anything, I seriously consider whether I really need that thing now, or if I’d rather save the money for something more important to me later – like travelling. For example, while I know I’d definitely have fun at an expensive music festival at home, I also know that I would get way more out of hitting the clubs or watching a Boca Juniors match in Buenos Aires. Or even though I might really feel like eating chocolate one day, I know I’d rather use that money to eat and get pissed while travelling. And that’s exactly what I did. My belief that every cent counts extends to the core of my being, and affects every monetary decision I make in life. People have told me that it’s no way to live – to constantly deny myself things that I want in the moment. I would have to disagree. By prioritizing travel experiences I give myself the opportunity to live in the moment in a new and exciting country. I still hang out with friends and spend money on going out even when I’m not travelling. I’m just careful about what I do. I have never felt that I lacked anything. Except maybe crack... definitely wish I had more of that! (Just kidding, Mom!)

Boca Juniors vs Gimnasia de La Plata. Palermo's last match!

Another piece of luck was that I had the best Master’s supervisor ever, and he offered to pay for me to go to a conference in Melbourne to present an e-poster. When he told me about the conference, the idea of going all the way to Oz for just a couple of weeks seemed crazy, and I started thinking about spending more time there. With his blessing I applied for a working holiday visa and booked a one way ticket to Melbourne with his funding. It turned out the conference wasn't very relevant to my research at all, and instead of going to many talks I spent most of my time looking for a place to live. I wanted to leave my couchsurfing host's apartment before I wore out my welcome (you're the best, Will!). I ended up living in a loony bin at first, which is possibly universal retribution for being so f***ing lucky and going to Oz for free, but that's a story for another day. The point is that I felt terrible that my supervisor paid for me to go all the way to Australia for nothing, but he didn't seem to mind. He said he owed me a conference and knew I wanted to come to Australia. Great guy, right? I guess what I'm trying to get across is that networking and seeking opportunities like this can actually pay off!

I ended up spending a year in Oz, working for nine months of that time. Damn, did I work hard! The six months I spent travelling in South America before heading to Australia left me broke. I literally had $40 left in my bank account before I managed to get a job in Melbourne. That was scary. My first job was a ridiculously boring office job (I hope none of my former bosses read this…), but they let me work overtime every day for the six months I was there, and that I did! Working 9-10 hours a day and sometimes on holidays and weekends at a job you don’t like is not fun. None of my Australian colleagues would even consider coming in on a day off because as you may have heard, they have a big sickie culture over there; i.e. people take a lot of sick days on top of their four weeks of annual leave. Australians really enjoy their time off and that sometimes made me question my priorities – I knew that I too would have a lot of fun getting drunk in the middle of the day wearing a fancy hat during Melbourne Cup. I wondered if it was really worth working so hard. Then I would get my paycheck that included the double and a half time I earned on holidays and I decided that yes, yes it was worth it.

I compensated for working so much by also going out every single night and going on weekend trips when I could. I had a super active social life in Melbourne (I miss you guys!) and again, never felt like I was missing out on anything. I knew that if I didn't work hard and make certain sacrifices I wouldn't be able to do all the things I wanted to do once I left Melbourne. I used to slack off at work sometimes and research things to do in New Zealand. That motivated me to stay late every day, and it definitely paid off because after those six months of work I spent two months backpacking in New Zealand and Tasmania. Neither of those places are cheap, and I had a lot of really expensive activities to tick off my bucket list (e.g. zorbing, body boarding down rapids, naked bungee jumping, etc.). I was able to do everything I wanted and still had a bunch of money left over. 

Tongariro Crossing, New Zealand

Post naked bungee jump! Queenstown, New Zealand

My second job was in Brisbane, Australia. It was much more fun (hurray for getting leeches in my mouth!) and actually in my field of study. Although it paid a lot less than my Melbourne job, I was still adding money to the amount left over from working in Melbourne. After finishing that job I was able to travel a bit more in Australia (super expensive!), and spent four months backpacking in Southeast Asia (super cheap!).

White Haven Beach, Whitsundays, Queensland, Australia

Great Barrier Reef

Perhentian Islands, Malaysia

Prasat Bayon, Angkor Thom

The last little bit I’m going to include in this guide to saving money for travel is about choosing cheap places to go. Sure, a plane ticket from Canada to Southeast Asia isn't cheap, but once you’re there you’ll be living large! $5 massages, $1 meals, $5 bed for the night. That’s cheaper than living at your parents’ house! Throw in some scuba diving courses and tours and it can get a bit more expensive than that, but still very cheap. Flying to Latin America from Canada is relatively cheap and travelling there isn't bad either. Just do your research and figure out where you want to go and what you’re willing to spend money on. I did a 4 day trek to Machu Picchu in May 2011 that cost me $200, booking it one day in advance. That’s the equivalent of a couple big nights out at home. How good is that?! It was an incredible experience and I would have paid a lot more for it.

View of Machu Picchu from Wayna Picchu

Going to the Galapagos Islands was my biggest expense in South America. I spent eleven days out there, including an eight day cruise on a first class yacht (you can only see the far islands by doing a cruise). My flight to the islands, food, accommodation, and cruise all together cost me approximately $1300. I paid about a third of the price that the seniors on my cruise paid when they booked their trip from home. Luckily there were a few other young backpackers on the yacht with me, because those seniors were nearly dead and very concerned with not getting a sunburn, pshhh. Granted, my hotel room in Puerto Ayora, the biggest town on the islands, that cost me $10/night before I left on my cruise was pretty much a dungeon. I remember desperately needing clean underwear before my cruise started, yet not finding anywhere to have my clothes washed. I ended up hand-washing everything at another hotel (the man working there was very nice!) but then having nowhere to dry my clothes. I eventually hung my underwear up on the ceiling fan in my room, and then lay in bed watching them spin around while I waited to meet up with my friends later. The room had no windows and with my drying laundry it became extremely hot and humid in there. That was probably the most depressing point of my trip up until then. Totally worth it!

Galapagos Islands

So there you have it. It’s all about being tight with cash when it comes to the less important things (like chocolate, believe it or not) so that you can spend money on the more important things (like drinking disgusting whisky on a picturesque Thai island). So many people tell me that they would travel if they could afford it, but if you really want to travel like I did, you will make it a priority. If I could do it, so can you.