Here, a few things I've learned in my several weeks traveling in Colombia...
1. In Colombia, locals will be patient with you, but generally do not cater to English speakers
In my naive gringo head, everyone speaks at least a bit of English, no? Even when I traveled to Ghana, it seemed like more people knew English than not. Certainly if they speak English in Africa, they'd speak English in Colombia…? Here, Spanish is spoken, and if you don't, well fucking try. Hand gestures and a confused puppy dog “que?” let locals know to repeat the words slower or with more direction. It's absolutely necessary to memorize the essentials: days, numbers and basic directions, before coming. Luckily my Spanish is beyond essential basics. I think if it weren't, i would have freaked out, peed my pants and hailed the nearest plane out of the sky to turn around and take me back home. Ok-- an exaggeration, but there's nothing worse than not understanding money negotiations during your travels--especially if you're on a tight budget like me.
2. Simply traveling to a Spanish speaking country does not mean you'll pick up the language
You hear it all the time: “oh! You’ve been in Costa Rica for four months? Your Spanish must be really good by now! Are you fluent yet?”
Just because I'm traveling in a Spanish speaking country does not mean it's an immersive experience. In fact, it can be difficult to disappear into the culture simply because of all the European, Australian and American backpackers. And these people are addictively fun to know...
On the other hand, everyone tells me that in order to learn the language, one must forget English speaking people as a species altogether. They are but skeletons of people walking, talking, laughing, etc. just don't befriend them.
Sigh. Learning Spanish in the USA is hard. But I didn't expect learning Spanish to be just as hard here. All I can do is be kind to myself and accept that i'll pick up fluency when the time is right, and that everything is happening just as it should be. No stress.
3. You can walk in peace in Colombia, generally, as a white female
I haven't been accosted, cat called, or creepily approached for being a white female in excess--in fact hardly at all. My expectations and estimations for this happening were way higher than what has been my experience. It's really, really nice. I can walk down the streets here without fear of being followed or touched. I met a friend here from Switzerland who had been traveling through Costa Rica, Nicaragua and Panama three months prior to her arrival who said, even in Central America, the feeling of being hella creeped-on was way worse. She couldn't believe how normal she felt walking down the streets compared to just a few countries away.
4. You'll need others
I set out to travel with the goal of attaining a greater sense of independence. And what better place to try that in a third world country?? (Actually feels mom’s wincing face across the world).
Independence? Yeah, I'm working on it. But what I didn't expect before leaving? I absolutely need others. I need to rely on other people, be it backpackers or locals on the street for advice. To keep the loneliness at bay. To cut costs. To process stories, facts, and ideas. I will come out of this with an understanding that you can still be independent while needing others. For people to want to help you is okay. And to be a helping hand for others when they need it feels good. But most of all, learning that the damn good mates in the world (been hanging out with too many Australians) heavily outweigh the bad ones.
5. Despite what you see on social media, traveling shoestring style is extremely uncomfortable
Ok i admit it: I miss my creature comforts-already. (I thought it would take longer for all this to set in…) The people I love, I think of often. I miss hot showers and coffee the way I like it--scalding hot, organic, with xylitol or a bit of honey. I miss working out and drinking almond butter green smoothies with kale kale and more kale. I miss my white girl hippie shit, yo. But none of this comes from a place of pain. Indeed, the opposite. It comes from a place of deep fondness and an appreciation for the many blessings I have back home.
Also, please don't let social media fool you. Traveling has its high highs and low lows, and everything inbetween. When the going is good, the going is incredibly, mind bendingly good. But getting to the good is where the discomfort lies. Figuring out transport, food, and planning (or not planning) for unexpected events all in a different language, city, and currency is stressful at first. Not knowing what is safe vs. what will get you guerrilla kidnapped (joking,Ma) takes a lot of asking around. Constantly looking over your shoulder at ATMs or walking down sidewalks is draining. And having to ask the travelers most frequented question: should I really take a chance on this street food??
But hey, all that sweating the small stuff (or practicing not to), & all that learning to cope while traveling is 100 million trillion times over worth the energy. It's how we grow individually. It's how we inspire others to try it, too. I sure as hell wouldn't be here without the wise old owl words of a friend who stated "just fucking go, D!" Thank you for that :)
You see, even though I can't have my green smoothie with too many hippy witch doctor supplements in it, I can still have my hippie-ass personality to get me through the discomfort & bliss that is unfolding quite as it should be, if you ask me, in this new place I have yet to fully know
Adiós, parceros.
D
