What every new backpacker should know (from someone who’s been there)

The trip, which was just over two weeks, was a mix of fun, firsts, new friends, beach parties and incredible local cuisine. But it was also full of confusion, discomfort, self-doubt, and feeling like a fish out of water. On the same day, I would discover my new favourite food (coxinha) but also feel so out of my depth with the language barrier and the fact that this was my first time in a culture so different from my own. There was an irony in enjoying blue-sky days by the beach while battling the nagging thought that maybe I’d be better off keeping future travels closer to home.

A few years later, I found myself living in Medellin, Colombia. Long story short, after a visit there, I fell in love with the place and felt I needed to spend more time there. Still, that time came with its uncomfortable moments too: getting lost, getting confused, not knowing how to communicate, or not feeling like I had the confidence to single-handedly take on the big adventures I envisioned.

“Maybe I’m just a bad traveller,” I thought to myself one day. “Maybe I’m just not the kind of person meant to be doing this by myself.” Those thoughts weren’t true either. I just hadn’t found my groove yet. I didn’t yet understand the expectation-versus-reality of travel. I thought it was supposed to be fun all the time and that I could just jump into something I had barely done before without any blunders. Talk about unrealistic.

Now? I live in South America. I travel alone all the time (to Panama, to the coast, back to Canada, Costa Rica, and small mountain towns). Ten years after my first big internationaal adventure and seven years since relocating, here’s what I’d tell novice backpackers. Consider this advice I’d give to a younger sibling striking out on their own:

Your time away from home doesn’t have to look a certain way

There’s no right or wrong. Take all the time you need to settle in. Have quiet days when and if you want. Leap out of your comfort zone or tip-toe out of it gradually. Chill, read, party, stay out late or get up early, dine solo, or befriend your entire hostel dorm. Work on creative projects, let your mind go idle, stick to a firm routine, or don’t at all.

My point: this is your time to travel. It doesn’t have to look a certain way. Explore the world based on your own interests and personal capacity. And notice that those are different things—both of which have to be accommodated.

Put yourself first

Don’t feel like going to that party? Don’t. Been needing alone time to read a book or finally make a dent in that personal project? Listen to that intuitive voice and give yourself that. You’re allowed to decline invitations, not make plans, or leave your days wide open and commitment free. Put yourself first and you might be amazed by where that leads you. That can look like extending your stay in a certain area (I extended mine by years!), staying out until the sun comes up, chatting with a local you’re curious to get to know, or going home early. Whatever it is, put yourself, your needs, and your comfort first.

Be selective about who you let in

Be selective about who you spend your time with, give your number to, or dedicate headspace to. I wish someone told me that years ago. I especially wish that solo female travellers knew that. I have all the love and appreciation for connections that are genuine: the travellers with a shared sense of camaraderie, excellent recommendations, people who inspire my adventurous and creative sides, and hostel mates you can have a solid conversation with. I don’t have time for opportunists, or those just trying to charm a traveller passing through. I say this having *been there*! Valuable interactions only please!

Establish basic safety practices and stick to them

This is one of the first things that everyone seems to say to solo travellers (particularly women). I won’t drone on but I will say: it’s important. Some of my standard practices look like sharing my location, texting friends once I’ve returned from a night out, checking locks and windows in an accommodation upon my arrival, knowing who is in my immediate vicinity, dating only in public spaces, not arriving to a new place after dark (if I can help it), and downloading local maps for offline use.

These are mostly related to people-oriented threats. I’m careful in nature too. I love the outdoors but I only wade out to a certain depth in the ocean and I invest in shoes with quality traction when hiking in the mountains.

The way you travel will evolve

Like with any new skill, the way you travel evolves. Sometimes, friends newer to travel will remark that I’m adventurous, independent, or have a good grasp on the language. Erm, yes and no. I’ve come a long way. Once upon a time, I couldn’t even get a table for one or order basic street food. My comfort zone used to be the local square and spending the day on my own. I’d have to work myself up to order an empanada from the street vendor!

More recently, I’ve travelled alone to remote islands in Panama and rented a cabin all to myself on the beach. To the girl who thought she was “a bad traveller,” or “not cut out for this”—chill out, you’ll get there! It just won’t happen right away.

It’s fine to be fairly uncomfortable from time to time

When I started travelling, I thought my discomfort abroad meant something about me. I assumed it meant I wasn’t adaptable, cultured, or “good at this.” But it didn’t mean any of those things. Sure, I felt uncomfortable being the only one at a table not able to speak Portuguese in Brazil. But I also figured out how to order fresh shrimp on the beach and meet up with a group for a run at sunrise. I felt stupid for getting lost in Colombia or useless for not knowing how to get around the city to all of the coolest attractions. But I later made a ton of friends and took myself on a tour of the Caribbean coast.

Travel and discomfort are old friends. Being away from your comforts, culture and familiarity is exciting but it’s also uncomfortable. It just is. The most recent time I felt uncomfortable while travelling was literally last week. Did I like it? No. Do I understand that it’s par for the course and therefore feel a bit less overwhelmed? Yeah.

Simple is often better

Some of the best days have been the quieter ones where I just kept it simple. Earlier on, it was all about the bucket-list adventure for me: the gondola up the mountain, zip-lining through the trees, the over-priced gin and tonic is the hottest new bar. Those things were great, don’t get me wrong.

But I’ve come to learn the value in the simpler activities abroad (and be happy with days composed mostly of just those!). By that I mean a stroll to a quiet part of the beach, a run followed by homemade lemonade, an unexpected connection. I work while I travel and I’ve traded a North American lifestyle for one based near the equator. Quite frankly, I don’t have the time, budget, or energy for each day on a trip to be The Best Day Ever. To work, eat a simple home-cooked meal, and get time by the pool to soak up the sun is now a major win for me.

Your life doesn’t have to look like theirs

I came across this affirmation a few years ago and it’s one of my favourites. We live in a day where everyone’s highlights are so accessible (thanks a lot Instagram). It can be so easy to compare and not notice when the-grass-is-greener mindset is getting the best of us. Knowing that my life doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s is so freeing.

There are so many ways to travel: full-time, long term backpacking, high-end hostels and luxury, weekend adventures, dirt cheap, etc. My style is generally slow travel in Latin America where I can blend work days online with fun days outside. It’s not “better” or “the best” way but it’s what I choose. I now know that my travel style doesn’t have to look like the Instagram influencer’s or the backpacker who has been to all of my coveted destinations. I know that now but oh man, did I ever feel fooled by self-comparison early on.