A Year In Travel: Happiest Country to Human Trafficking

I visited 9 countries across 3 continents; here’s what I experienced. My resolution when it hit midnight on January 1, 2023 was to “travel more”. It was pretty vague, which made it easy to accomplish. I stuck to that resolution.

The homepage of TheCosmopolitanCanadian explains how I felt prior to 2023… just, stuck. During my schooling and the pandemic that followed, there weren’t opportunities to go anywhere. 2023 was my chance to set out exploring.

Belize

This country is only one in Central America that is officially English-speaking, which checks out since it was a former British colony. You will also hear Spanish (we’re in Latin America after all!), but in my experience, Kriol (or the Spanish-focussed version, Creole) was spoken much more.

I arrived at the Philip S.W. Goldson International Airport and walked down the stairs to the smallest tarmac I’d ever seen. Before this point, there were only a few times I’d left a plane without a bridge; they all in Latin America. The airport was also the smallest one I’d visited. There weren’t a whole lot of people waiting in the immigration lines, but the tiny hallways made it seem we were packed like sardines.

The immigration line in Belize for those who aren’t diplomats or citizens.

Continuing with the theme of “everything is small”, I popped over to the tiniest Avis store across the road to get a rental car. I was the only person in the whole place, but to be fair, it couldn’t hold more than that. With my new keys, I hit the road to the edge of Belize City. The speedometer was foggy and the car was dinged up. This was my first time driving in a foreign country.

An Avis car rental store in Belize with 2 chairs.
My room with paper-thin walls in Belize City.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, some some people wanted to hitchhike with me. As someone who’s hitchhiked before, I felt inclined to offer my services, but decided against it as I didn’t quite know the vibe of this country just yet — I hadn’t even left the airport parking lot. After a couple minutes of driving, I passed at least half a dozen hitchhikers due to lack of infrastructure. It occurred to me I’d be paying USD $15 for an airport taxi if I hadn’t rented my $300 car; who’s winning now?

Once I checked into my hotel where the country meets the Caribbean Sea, I was told by the receptionist to stay inside after 10pm — good advice.

Belize City wasn’t what I’d expected. The city itself didn’t really have beaches and I had to watch over my shoulder constantly. I picked up a few Belkin beers from a store in town, but made the mistake of carrying them in a clear plastic bag. Within a few seconds, some kids that looked around 10 years old were circling me on their bikes like vultures.

“Sir, can we please have the beer?” asked one of the boys as he eyed the bag.

“You shouldn’t really be drinking.” I answered as I continued my stride back to the hotel.

“If I can to a wheelie, you have to give me one!” another boy exclaimed.

“I don’t think so, it’s not good for you.” I said, ignoring their requests which made me sound hypocritical. I scanned the area for any adults that might be following. Was it some kind of weird robbery? In broad daylight I doubted it, but I had no idea what to expect here.

“I’m doing a wheelie!” shouted the same boy as his tire narrowly missed my feet.

“Sorry…” I said, sounding like an absolute square.

Eventually they biked away, realizing I wouldn’t give beer to random kids.

Safely back in my hotel, I placed the beer on the ground, then set out for some shopping. When I visit new places, I love seeing markets — they’re a blend of culture, people, food, and things to take home. Belize City seemed pretty dead, but I snagged a flag of the country (the only one in the world with humans on it!) from someone’s cabana near an alleyway. Everyone I talked to there was super welcoming and gave me directions to other things I might want to see in the city. Of course, as the obvious tourist sticking out like a sore thumb, a few others asked me to check out their stores, but they weren’t overly aggressive — that’s reserved for shop owners in Mexico selling mass-produced stuff made in China, but hey, they can hustle.

Back in Belize City, I grabbed some dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Chinese food in Central America? I decided to go in with no expectations.

“It’s my first time in Belize. What do you recommend?” I asked the waitress.

“Uh…” she hummed, caught off-guard. “You like chicken?”

“Yeah!” I nodded in agreement.

The next thing I knew, I was chowing down on the best chicken noodle soup I’d ever had, at a Chinese restaurant in Belize. What a time to be alive.

I headed back to my hotel after a couple more hours of exploration, and wandered into a bizarre situation I’d never forget.

“You want some?” an ominous pair of characters asked, shaking a bag and staring into my eyes.

“Nah, I’m good man.” I responded as I slid left on to another street.

“It’ll make your p*** hard!” one of them shouted.

I checked my watch. It was only 8pm. Maybe the receptionist’s advice was off by a few hours. Belize City was full of surprises.

Back in my hotel, and a few Belkin beers later, I looked around Google Maps and still couldn’t believe how small the country of Belize was. Guatemala is right next door. You could drive across the whole country and be at the border in 2 hours. In an state impulsiveness, I booked a tour of Tikal – a UNESCO world heritage site with old Mayan ruins in Guatemala.

“This will be awesome!” I thought. I had a car anyway. The Guatemalan authorities require cars to be fumigated, so to avoid that, I’d just park in San Ignacio and catch a taxi to the border. The guide would pick me up on the other side anyway.

Fast forward to 4am, I was woken up just in time by a torrential downpour. It was the start of rainy season in the region, which didn’t make driving any easier. The thunder and lightening didn’t help either.

Bang! The car caught some serious air on random speed bumps in the middle of the highway. The rain made me swerve a little as my heart jumped. I hit a couple more of them which was making me frustrated. The car was already busted up so it wouldn’t look any different, I thought.

As the sun rose, the rain stopped, and I was greeted with a beautiful pink horizon as I passed the city of Belmopan. Impulsiveness paid off, but it also contributed to what was brewing in my stomach. I needed a bathroom fast.

As it is with all Latin American cities, colorful letters spelling out “San Ignacio” welcomed me as I drove across a wooden bridge. I parked, and began looking for a public bathroom. I spotted a neon green building with turnstiles.

“The promised land.” I exclaimed to myself in a frantic jog.

I handed the bathroom bouncer 2 Belize Dollars and ran inside to claim my throne. The contents of my stomach were completely emptied. I looked around in a haste.

There was no toilet paper. Not here, not in the other stalls, nowhere.

“Excuse me, ma’am! Is there toilet paper here?” I shouted from inside. No response. “Excuse me!” I wasn’t going outside to check if she was there.

Let’s just say the cardboard roll did as much as it could. I paid USD $1 to shit myself (note: 2 Belize Dollars is always 1 US Dollar). That damned chicken noodle soup from the other side of the country had followed me here.

It was getting close to 7am, so I had to catch a ride to make it across the border in time. The Canadian government’s travel advice read “Taxis are not safe. You should refrain from using them.” And here I was, about to do it anyway. I waited next to a meat shop for my first ride.

Waiting for a sketchy white van bound for Guatemala.

The rain started coming down again.

I was overall not very comfortable for so many reasons.

A white sprinter van appeared.

“Eric?” the driver asked.

“That’s me!” I hopped right into the stranger’s van and my perception changed.

The driver was incredibly friendly and funny. We started chatting.

“You drive all the way from Belize City?” he asked, surprised. I nodded.

“Wow! What time did you get up?”

“Like, 4 o’clock?” I responded.

“Hahaha!” he chuckled. “I love my country. Our arms are always open.” I sat back and smiled. Was taking a taxi really a travel advisory?

We approached the border as the driver pointed to some mountains in the distance. “Human trafficking happens a lot over here.” he said. Never mind.

Guatemala

The driver engaged the parking brake. “Alright, we’ll take it out from here.”

I read some more on my phone. “Belize faces unresolved territorial disputes with Guatemala regarding the land border.” This should be fun.

I paid the USD $20 exit fee from Belize, then walked across no man’s land. The friendly driver waved me goodbye. A couple appeared during the short walk. “Hey, you’re going to Tikal too?” I asked. “You know it.” the guy responded. He clearly worked out — this man’s arms were as big as my head. If there was ever a problem, I knew we’d be in good hands.

There isn’t much to say about this next part, because nothing really happened. A total of zero words were exchanged as the border guard handed my passport back. It was stamped with something that read “Guatemala”. Awesome! No issues whatsoever. That had to be the easiest border crossing I’d ever done.

We stopped at a shack on the side of the road and got what looked like Pupusas, but our guide described them as “Cayuyu” (don’t even know if I’m spelling it right, sorry). To this day I still don’t know what I ate, but they were damn tasty. I paid 10 Guatemalan Quetzales for four of them and felt pretty full — that’s USD $1.28 for lunch.

We headed onwards toward Tikal National Park. At the entrance we were greeted by two members of the military wielding huge guns. Ah, just like the soldiers on the beaches of Mexico, I thought, unfazed. I guess visiting parks is different down here.

As it turns out, climbing old Mayan ruins in Tikal is totally fine. As I made my way up a UNESCO world heritage site, I didn’t forget about the incident in San Ignacio. It made the whole process extremely uncomfortable. But hey, I was taking in an amazing view of the jungle in Guatemala. It was worth the all the trouble.

Tikal, Guatemala

Here’s a YouTube video playlist on the excursion!

Denmark and Norway

I chose to group these two together. Denmark and Norway are so similar yet so different. One is in the EU, one is not. Copenhagen is chill, relaxed, and “happy go lucky” with legal public drinking, a theme park (Tivoli Gardens) right in the city, and colorful houses. Oslo (and every other Norwegian city, really) felt extremely square, uptight and damn expensive. To be fair, Norway had beautiful fjords, lots of room for beautiful roadtrips, and tunnels that are true engineering marvels. I enjoyed my time in both countries.

We got off a plane from Reykjavík and stepped into Copenhagen. Finally, a true utopic European country.

The next thing I knew we were stranded in a random area without a working cell phone because the metro had broken. The “utopia” was settling in.

The eSIM I bought only came with data. Time to do some eSIM juggling. In a feat of desperation I enabled my US eSIM and made a very expensive call for a taxi. It would be the next easiest way to get to Nyhavn. A taxi was promised to arrive in 10 minutes.

20 minutes goes by, no taxi in sight.

Another expensive call was made. A taxi was promised in another 10 minutes.

20 minutes goes by, still no taxi.

What was going on?

Out of nowhere, a benevolent Danish soul appeared.

“Taxis are fricking expensive.” Maria laughed as we drove off toward the city.

“That’s what we heard, yeah.” I replied.

“Yeah don’t do that.” she responded.

We dodged a $100+ taxi ride, and moments later we were in the middle of Nyhavn for free. Maybe this was a utopia after all.

“Have a good holiday.” Mary said, smiling, as we parted ways.

The next few days would involve publicly consuming Carlsberg and Grøn to blend in with the rowdy locals when nightfall came, visiting Tivoli Gardens and Christiania. Despite this, almost everyone knew their limits, except the one peeing on the sidewalk. Copenhagen has lots of outdoor restaurants and bars in the summer. Often times you’d have no idea where the indoor seeing is for the associated restaurant. It’s just a sea of tables, chairs and umbrellas everywhere.

It was at one of those tables in the middle of Nyhavn we’d meet an old Danish friend. We caught up over some Carlsberg and booked our train tickets to Norway with his help. We couldn’t leave the country without a Danish souvenir. He brought us over to a shopping mall in the city where we picked up a bottle of the worst stuff imaginable.

Gammel Dansk – the liquor too cruel to give your worst enemies. It’s the most bitter substance you will ever taste. If you like liquorish, you’ll hate Gammel Dansk. Just don’t drink it.

The Danish seemed to have everything figured out, except for whatever this concoction was.

I threw it in my bag as we walked over to the train station to leave the country with a bitter taste in my mouth, quite literally.

The journey begun.

Copenhagen to Malmö

Malmö to Mölndal

Mölndal to Gothenburg

Gothenburg to Oslo

It was finally over. The 7 hour journey had brought us to the world-famous opera house in capital city of Norway.

The American part of me was ecstatic we could manage to pass through 3 countries without a car. The European part of me was upset we had to catch a bus from Mölndal to Gothenburg because the station there was under maintenance. It was a flashback to the issue in Copenhagen. To quote Steve Jobs, “it’s pretty awesome when it works.”

We arrived in Oslo to a rude awakening. Everything costs an arm and a leg. Beer? That’ll be the price of a high-end cocktail, or the cost of your dinner, depending on what you get. Gas? Good luck, have fun.

We spent around 2 days exploring the capital, which meant the real fun was coming. We hopped on to the same train back to the airport to pick up a rental car. It wasn’t banged up like the one in Belize. It wasn’t gasoline-powered either. This thing was an electric BMW iX. Lucky for us, electric charging costs basically nothing compared to everything else in Norway, that is, if you can read Norwegian.

We were pretty far from the airport and needed a charge. The station we stopped into would either charge your car with an app, or from a website. None of the charging stations are centralized, so a new folder developed in my phone called “charging apps”. Somehow, none of them worked, and neither did the website. I started to miss the familiarity of gasoline.

The car came with its own charging cord, but the station didn’t have anywhere to plug the other end into. We were out of options and frustrated.

We drove to another charging station nearby. It worked right away. Why? No idea, but it didn’t matter.

A couple hours later we arrived in Ullensvang, Norway. The hotel’s garage was so incredibly small that it gave me anxiety parking the vehicle worth six figures. I ended up walking away with the car parked crooked as hell, but it was good enough — all BMWs park that way.

In a stroke of pure luck, I ran into an American friend in the hotel on his own adventure in Norway, from Stavanger to Trondheim. The odds of this were the same as being struck by lightening. We chatted a bit until an entourage of Germans appeared. He introduced us to a slew of new friends as we hung out by the water. It was a great night!

The following morning we woke up and drove aimlessly until we found a reindeer pelt stand. A friendly Norwegian woman sold us pelts for 990 Krone, which was better than the 1000+ Krone in Oslo. The rest of the trip involved driving around and enjoying the scenery. We took a ferry across a lake, and ended the trip back in Oslo. It was one of the more relaxed trips I’ve done.

Finland

Finland is known for being the happiest country in the world. We hopped a plane from Oslo bound for Helsinki with the new reindeer pelts scrunched up to an impossible size. When the plane reached 30,000 ft. we were sipping some Long Drink in a metal tube bulleting through the sky. It’s hard not to take the miracle of flight for granted.

A super quick train ride into the city led us to the Yard Hostel. It was pretty minimalistic, but it wouldn’t matter because the people there would make it worthwhile, which is the main point of a hostel.

Before doing anything social, washing our clothes was the number one priority. The hostel told us about this place you could wash clothes at the back of a bar in the city. Buy a beer, get clean clothes. Who would say no to that?

Enter Bob’s Landry. This Bob guy had it all figured out.

If I could charge an electric car in Norwegian, I could figure out a Finnish washing machine.

However, the bartender was nice enough to help me get things rolling — this really was a great country.

“It’s our first day in Finland; we just came from Norway. Why is it so expensive over there?” I asked her.

“No shit it’s expensive!” she responded. “Some people live here and work in Norway, and live like kings.”

“How does that even work? Do people fly back and forth every day?” I inquired.

“Pretty much.” she shrugged.

The washing took longer than anticipated so we were several beers deep by the time things were done. We grabbed our fresh clothes and hopped the street car back to the hostel. This is where the fun would begin.

We were greeted by tons of people chatting in the common room. “Hey, can I use your Coke Zero do water down my drink?” I asked a stranger. “Yeah man.” he replied. This guy was from France. Every traveller was from France. Why were there so many French people?

“What is it you’re drinking?” he asked.

“Gammel Dansk, something from Denmark. You want some?” I replied.

“Why did you bring that?” someone sitting next to him interjected. His face told me how he felt. Turns out this stranger’s friend was also French, but he lived here in Finland for studies. Everyone in the common room was visiting their French-Finnish friend and decided to get a hostel.

“We’re going to the Technoclub. You need to get the taste out of your mouth.” he continued.

Moments later, we were on a bus going to the outskirts of Helsinki with a dozen French strangers. I’ll never stop enjoying what hostels have to offer.

“Do you want to sing the naked song?” one of the people in our group asked?

The… what?

Everyone started singing in French about taking off your clothes. Our French-Finnish friend started taking off layers.

Coat: gone

Sweater: gone

What a ride.

We arrived at a huge bar before things could go further. Following Finnish tradition, we shared several shots of hard alcohol with our new friends. They were hard to stomach.

“What did you drink?” this girl asked us.

I turned in her direction and shouted “Vodka!”

She laughed and continued dancing.

We hopped on another bus and headed out into the middle of nowhere. There it was: the infamous Finnish “Technoclub”.

The line was too long, so we headed to some restaurant to wait it out.

“Can I take this?” our self-proclaimed French-Finnish guide asked.

“I’ll look the other way.” the bartender giggled.

Buying alcohol to-go after 9pm in Helsinki was forbidden, but it wasn’t enforced quite well.

“Drink this.” a stranger demanded as we waited back in the shorter line. I reluctantly agreed and downed whatever was in the can.

There is sure a lot of drinking going on in Finland.

We made our way into the club where nobody could see due to the smoke machines on steroids. Techo was blasting from all corners of the establishment as we partied the night away with mystery drinks. I would have never been here with an awesome group of people if it weren’t for the hostel.

Thanks strangers, you guys made the night.

. . .

“What makes Finnish people happy?” I asked inquisitively to our walking tour guide from the hostel. Everything seemed pretty perfect here but I wanted to get a local’s thoughts.

“I mean Finland… a lot of things work well here, like the quality of life is pretty good — like we have low corruption, and all that. Education and all that is very accessible. Of course we still have, you know, some poverty as well. Actually depression and alcoholism is a big thing here as well. I think it’s more like… the quality of life is very good here, but happiness? I’m not so sure.” she explained.

“They don’t sell alcohol after 9:00.” I pointed out.

“Yeah it’s very strict.” she agreed. I wasn’t too sure about that based on last night.

“I think they’ve tried to reduce alcoholism and public drunkenness. You might have seen it already.” she pointed out.

Her remarks re-affirmed that actual utopias don’t exist, but the tools to make your life great do exist. It’s all about what you do with those tools that matter. There will always be issues no matter where you live, but there won’t always be resources to set you up for success. To Finland’s credit, they seemed to care about their citizens. I guess that’s the moral of the story.

Canada

Golden Ears: the summit nestled into the mountain ranges in Maple Ridge, British Columbia, Canada. The peak towers at 5630ft. with views of Pitt Lake, and the nearby Mt. Robbie Reid, Mt. Judge Howay, The Defendant, and The Witness. Numerous other peaks were nestled together in what makes a panoramic view worthwhile.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve made the amazing journey to the top. I grew up in Coquitlam, British Columbia, so that mountain always taunted me until the summer of 2021. It holds a special place in my memories which was the initial catalyst for my travels.

Seasonal wildfires started becoming common in the area around 2014, so unfortunately my first view was obstructed. It was time to attempt it again.

I drove up all the way from Seattle, where I now reside. It was a short 4 hour hike to Alder Flats – the base of the mountain where most backpackers rest. 2 years ago there was a river rushing through the flats, but this time the river was completely dried up. It was pretty annoying having to hike downhill for 20 more minutes to fill up my bladder. Oh well, this is what it’s come to. At least I could cook dinner.

I lay back in my tent staring at the stars without the rain cover. It was a warm summer night in the woods of Golden Ears Provincial Park. I sipped some cheap rum from my backpack and wrote a short entry in my paper journal. I couldn’t ask for a more peaceful night. It was off to the summit in the morning, and it looked like there wouldn’t be any smoke.

5 hours later, with the stupidly heavy water on my back, the emergency shelter finally came into view. I was right.

The view from my tent near the emergency shelter on Golden Ears.

I claimed a tent pad with the best view, which in fact was the same one from 2 years ago.

I cooked some well-deserved mac and cheese with the water from Alder Flats, then relaxed a little.

The view from my tent was priceless. I stared at the tree-covered mountains contrasting the baby blue skies for a long time.

My Garmin Inreach Mini said the forecast was all sun.

I couldn’t believe it.

In all my years of living in British Columbia I haven’t gotten a view from a tent this beautiful.

It was time to see what the summit looked like.

I definitely went the wrong way. There was a climbing rope tied to some rocks in the distance, but I completely missed it. I found myself free climbing completely vertical rocks on the other side of the glacier. I gave up on AllTrails and winged the rest of the ascent.

There it was. The most beautiful view I’ve ever seen. No words can describe how amazing it felt to be standing on top of the mountain with a clear view where my travel ambitions all started. The tears mixed with my gross sweat, sunscreen, and bug spray under a completely soaked shirt was the smell of adventure.

The most beautiful photograph I’ve ever taken. Golden Ears, August 12, 2023

This was a huge contrast from 2021, where I stood in the same place wildfire smoke covered the mountain range. Despite that, there was more of a glacier at the time. Today, I noticed it was much smaller. At least it made for an easier summit.

Golden Ears, July 31, 2021

After some solitude, I returned to the tent pads and used the toilet in the shelter.

I had a long drive back to Seattle the next day. Did I really want to descend the mountain and do a 3 hour drive all tomorrow? Not really.

Reluctantly, I packed up my gear and started down the mountain. Normally I’d spend the night on the top, but this time I killed two birds with one stone by making my journey back to the US easier, and by pushing myself to do the journey faster.

. . .

The gravity of the situation started setting in. 4.5 hours later I made it to Alder Flats, but the sun was setting. I’m not so enthusiastic being alone in the woods at night, but I had to trek on to avoid bears.

Just 30 more minutes, then I’ll have a drink.

Ah, I’m close enough, maybe another 30 more.

I’m not even thirsty, it’s getting darker anyway.

The clock struck 7pm and the sky got darker. I was an idiot.

I had to stop and eat something otherwise I’d collapse. The only things I ate were an egg scramble at 6am and the mac and cheese at 1pm. I climbed over 5000ft. with 20 lbs. of gear and back without anything else in my body. The bears would be waking up soon, though. They’d smell the food, plus it would slow me down.

I tried my best to chew a protein bar. My jaw wouldn’t move. I was so tired I couldn’t even eat. That’s never happened before. I pushed my jaw with the little strength my arms had left and managed to scarf it down. Great, 200 more calories should be enough for now. I probably wasn’t thinking straight.

The clock struct 9pm and I had no clue where I was. AllTrails was the bearer of bad news: I was very far from the trail because I couldn’t reason where it was due to exhaustion. I had to rear left to make it back to the trail, but that direction was somehow uphill and covered by forest growth. The only direction was right, where there was more of nothing. That would eventually lead me back to the trail but not for another 2km. I face-planted in the dirt and scraped my arms. Wonderful. I was face-down in the dirt, dehydrated, hungry, and tired during nightfall with a bunch of gear to lug.

In some kind of supernatural miracle, I kept trekking and made it back to the trail in a jogging frenzy through the forest at night.

I clutched the bear spray and eventually made it back to the parking lot. It was after 10pm. I thew my backpack in the trunk and sat in my driver’s seat for a couple of minutes, more relieved than anything. I drank all the remaining water.

I drove back to Coquitlam and collapsed in the basement of my parents’ house. What an adventure.

Peru

There’s always been a strong connection to Latin America in my life. In that young age before you can form cohesive memories, I was often babysat by my now family friend for life, Francisca, from Zacatecas, México. I developed a very good relationship with someone from Latin America early on, and still have the pleasure of calling her my friend all these years later.

I’d only been as far south as Guatemala and Belize this year. It was time to visit a new continent.

This will go down as one of the most memorable trips so far. I spent 9 days and 10 nights in the incredible country of Perú with my friends Joe, Kelly and Luke. We climbed Machu Picchu, rode in white vans to random towns, dodged heart palpitations to summit Mt. Vinicunca at 17,000 ft. and got food poisoning. It was amazing.

Joe is basically my neighbor, which made meeting up before our 22 hour journey to Cusco easy.

SEA to LAX

Kelly, who lives in Los Angeles, joined us.

LAX to LIM

Joe was on a later flight, so Kelly and I left him behind.

LIM to CUZ

Kelly and I made a touchdown. We pushed Joe a little outside his comfort zone by catching a taxi without him. He’d be able to find us later. What great friends we are.

Three planes later, we found ourselves in the city situated over 11,000ft. We popped some Ibuprofen. The headaches would not go away. How do people live here?

I will admit the city of Cusco is touristy. You don’t have to be a genius to see that. I want to avoid that stuff, but tourism is a pretty big contributor to Perú’s GDP. Kelly and I embraced it by withdrawing some Peruvian Soles from an ATM and went shopping. Don’t go to currency exchanges – you’ll be charged a fee and get a worse rate.

Our room at the hostel was ready, so we headed back and showered. Each bed was $27 a night after taxes at Viajero Kokopelli Hostel. To date, it’s the best hostel I’ve ever been to. Check it out on Hostelworld for yourself!

Moments later, Joe showed up. He’d managed the taxi just like we thought. What a capable guy.

Where was Luke? Nobody really knew. He flew into Lima and was hitchhiking on motorcycles and cars. He’d make it here eventually.

. . .

“¿Tienes una mesa para tres?”

Joe, Kelly and I were pretty hungry. We made our way into a random restaurant without a menu. We sat in confusion wondering whether when we’d be served.

The first plate came. It was some kind of soup, which was honestly pretty good.

The second dish came. It was friend fish with rice. Another banger.

How much more would come, and how much would it cost? No one had a clue. The waitress seemed too busy to question.

“¿Inglés?” I asked. The question was met with a “No…” This should be fun.

We finished our very filling meals with a total cost of USD $2 for three people. This would have easily been $40 per person back home.

. . .

It was dinner time. The first pub we entered had Pisco Sour, the national drink of Perú. It was way too easy to find. We clinked drinks and celebrated being in South America.

“Live music!” Kelly suggested. That was our new goal for the night. We chose not to ask the hostel for suggestions and instead wondered the bustling streets of Cusco. It had superb nightlife, filled with explorers and locals alike. There were people frying random things on the street next to others selling everything from TV remotes to shoes and clothes, to toys and electronics. It was insane and I was there for it.

We turned an alleyway and heard music coming from a nightclub. Someone at the door welcomed us in and sat us down to live music. Well, that’s two goals reached. We spent an hour dancing and drinking in the middle of the venue with a bunch of other Peruvians having a great time.

The next morning wasn’t as rough as we thought. That was good because we all had to pack for Machu Picchu the next day. My first order of business was getting a haircut. Google Maps told me there was a barber shop close to the hostel, so Joe and I walked over to a literal hole in the wall to get the job done.

“¿Cuanto cuesta un adulto?” I inquired at the entrance as everyone stared at the only two gringos.

“Veinte.” someone answered.

“Perfecto.” I replied. We were welcomed inside as all heads turned away.

10 minutes later I was met with a frantic “Go go go!” from the same guy. We scrambled deeper into the barber shop where I showed my desired haircut to the barber. There was some awkward confusion with what I wanted, but it was resolved by the doorman.

I asked for a “one” which was much, much shorter than I anticipated. A buzz straight through the middle of my head left me terrified. “It would always grow back.” I reminded myself.

The barber was very concentrated in his craft. I tried to strike up some small talk but realized no one else was doing it, so I stayed quiet after that.

I gave 25 Soles to him on the way out. It was a pretty decent cut!

. . .

Our love for Pisco Sours meant we couldn’t just drink them; we had to learn to make them.

The hostel had a Pisco Sour class so headed up to the connected bar where we finally met Luke. We tasted some pretty solid drinks, then hit the sack for the night. In less than 6 hours we had to wake up at 4am for our guide, Arturo to take us to Machu Picchu. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea before a long hike.

. . .

The alarm went off. It was 4am and I felt like a truck hit me.

We got into the van waiting outside at 5am on the dot and drove through the countryside until we made it to Ollantaytambo. This is where we’d hitch a train ride closer to the mountain. We packed up our lunches over the best coffee I’d ever had. I really do mean it was the best. This stuff was the nectar of the gods.

“Where is Joe?” Arturo asked frantically.

We looked around for a couple minutes until he appeared out of another coffee shop.

“The train is boarding!” I shouted.

He raced over to re-unite with us but bonked his head on the shop’s sign. Joe couldn’t be helped.

We were asked for our train tickets and passports. This would be the first of many times we’d be asked for our passports. It was a little unsettling to bring it out all the time, but that’s the way things worked.

A little over 40 minutes took us through the dry lands of Ollantaytambo to the lush, green, towering Andes mountains. Some of these mountains even had blinding white glaciers – not something I ever thought existed here.

We showed our passports again after crossing a bridge, which brought us to some benches were we could apply sunscreen and get ourselves sorted.

“The end our trek is Machu Picchu.” explained Arturo as he pointed to a map. We were off.

The back of my head had nearly no hair which meant it got severely sunburnt. To be fair, I’d never applied sunscreen to my head so that was a foreign concept. We powered through the hike making great pace. A few rest stops allowed for snack breaks and short marvels at the scenery. We kept going. Well, some of us kept going.

“Can I run the rest of the way?” Kelly asked Arturo.

“You’ll be alone.” He was reluctant but eventually agreed. Kelly shot off in the distance to see the wonder of the world before any of us. “I didn’t think she was serious.” Kelly is an ultra marathon runner… she’d be fine. We trusted Joe to go off alone anyway.

In no time at all, she was running back down and joined us.

“You already made it to the top?” I asked.

“Yeah it’s not that far.” she replied.

Everyone laughed, but internally we were all glad to be back together.

There it was in the distance, the one and only Machu Picchu. I’ve only seen it in books and movies. You read about this place in history class and think “yeah sure, it’s cool” but the real deal knocks your socks off. We spent a while looking at it from the ledge we’d climbed. I really couldn’t believe I was looking at it with my friends. It was a dream come true.

Machu Picchu as viewed from the Inca Trail, October 2, 2023

The next day it heavily rained. Those who did the full 4 day Inca trail without the train arrived to a view obstructed by fog. Our view from Montaña Machupicchu was completely white. We’d gotten lucky when we showed up. Thanks for an awesome adventure, guys.

Mexico and Sweden

I grouped these two countries together at the end because I didn’t end up doing much as I wanted in these places.

During my time in Sweden I stayed near Kungsträdgården where I worked remotely until 10pm every day. It was rough, but I made it work. I was fortunate enough to have a remote job that would let me do this, but I wouldn’t make this config happen again. To make up for the lack of adventure, I’ll share some pictures from Stockholm.

I wish I had more to say about Sweden, but it was still definitely a fun time. I’d go so far as to say the nightlife in Stockholm rivals that of Copenhagen, although public drinking is illegal here. It’s tied for my favorite city in Scandinavia.

Bars and restaurants were bustling every night and people went hard on weekends.

That’s where I witnessed someone face-plant unconscious on the sidewalk of the Strömbron bridge. Luckily there were enough people around to call an ambulance for the guy (my eSIM had no calling feature, which maybe it should have had).

I got to set foot on Mexican soil during a cruise to end the year. It was a great time to relax and spend time thinking of everywhere I’ve been in 2023. I didn’t get to do much because the boat was docked for only a couple hours at each city. That included Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlán and Puerto Vallarta.

The streets of Mazatlán, Mexico
Vista Hermosa, Mazatlán, Mexico

In Summary

2023 was a wild year filled with amazing experiences, from partying at a Technoclub with French people in world’s happiest country, to a taxi driver bringing me through Central American roads where human trafficking happens. It took some effort and planning, but also some spontaneity.

Yes it’s cliché, but travel is what you make of it. Think of what that means to you. Every single experience in 2023 brought me joy, no matter the grime or cleanliness, no matter my fright or delight, no matter the friendliness or coldness of people, and no matter the location. Every day the sun rises and sets, someone will have an experience completely different from you. The only thing we truly have in common is we live on a wet rock together. It’s is incredibly huge. Go explore it.

Taking Your Drone to Peru is a Nightmare

Have you thought of bringing your done to Peru for those sweet arial shots? Peru does not like drones. The process is a huge pain and that can often be enough to discourage people from bringing their drone. If you have time to kill at your point of entry/exit in the country, lots of patience, and 18% of your drone’s value, you’ll be good. Here’s how the process works:

Arriving into Peru

No matter circumstance, you need to declare your drone when you arrive in the country. If you’re flying into Lima, you’ll head toward baggage claim and notice two colored banners – a green one on the right for no good to declare (in which case, you’d walk right through) and a red one on the left for things to declare. Head to the left and tell them you have a done. Tell them how much it costs and be prepared to shell out 18% of that.

They’ll first inspect the drone, so pass it through the window and wait a little bit. They’ll make sure it’s under 249g which is the heaviest one you’re allowed to bring without additional paperwork. In my case, my DJI Mini Pro 3 is $909 and 249g, so the paperwork they produced included all that info. You’ll take that paperwork one booth over to the left to pay the 18% deposit — yes, it’s a deposit, not a fee, meaning you’ll get it back when you leave the country. Hold on to all the papers they give you! You’ll need them all when you’re back. Someone will grab you when you’re done, and you’ll be allowed to walk through these huge doors into the rest of the airport. Make a mental note of where this is, because it’s where you’ll have to be when you come back to collect the deposit.

While in Peru

You can use your drone as usual for personal, non-commericial reasons, but keep these factors in mind (some of these apply to more countries than just Peru):

  • Don’t go higher than 152m
  • Don’t go within 30 meters of buildings
  • Don’t fly over large cities, or crowds of people
  • Don’t go within 4km of any airport
  • Don’t go faster than 160 km/h
  • Don’t attach heavy objects to your drone or drop anything from it.
    • If attaching objects to your drone makes it weigh over 249g, or if you plan on dropping things from it, you’ll need to fill out additional paperwork. Email rpas-dgac@mtc.gob.pe and wait around a month.

Here’s the official set of requirements from the Peruvian government: https://www.gob.pe/institucion/mtc/noticias/50511-mtc-conoce-los-requisitos-para-operar-un-drone

Flying over Machu Picchu or another historical site? You need to apply for an additional permit, which is likely to be rejected if you’re just filming for fun.

Leaving Peru

This is where the fun starts. You’ll be going back to the same booth you were at when you entered the country. The problem is getting there, because it’s behind that huge set of doors you originally came through, and you can’t just walk back inside. People entering into Peru come through those doors just like you did, so it’s one-way traffic. There will, however, be someone at a podium right next to those giant doors where people are spewing out from. Show your drone paperwork and passport to that person. At this point, you’ll be escorted into a creepy back room. The room is small and has your standard airport security xray and metal detector, except it’s in a random room in the back for some reason. Take your laptop and tablet out, otherwise they’ll make you put your stuff on the conveyer belt again. After that, they’ll unlock this military-grade looking door to let you out of the back room. It looks like it’s designed to keep people from running away. You’ll head back to the booth you originally declared your drone at. They’ll ask for the drone, so give it to them and let them inspect it. They’ll probably open the legs and poke at it a bit — just relax. They’ll give you a new sheet of paper at this point (probably acknowledging your drone passed inspection and that they owe you money). You’ll be escorted to the ticket counter to get your plane ticket if you don’t already have it. The person at the ticket counter looked super confused when the drone paperwork was presented to them. I asked the person escorting me if this was normal and she nodded.

You’ll walk between the customs booth (behind the giant doors), the weird security room, and the ticket counter a couple times. Be prepared for some repetition and a lot of time wasted. I was escorted all over the place because no one knew where I should be, and every time I headed in opposing traffic through the huge doors (where the customs/taxes booths are), I had to go into that weird security backroom first, as a formality of course. Eventually you’ll end up at the tax window where you paid your deposit. Show your paperwork, and you’ll be given your deposit back in raw cash. I asked if the amount could be placed back on my credit card (since that’s what they charged in the first place) and received a stern “no”, so yeah, just roll with it. When this is done, you’ll rejoin your friend who’s been walking you everywhere. They’ll be nice enough to walk you to the regular airport security that rest of us go through. This was my third time through airport security, except this time it was a less intimidating experience.

The whole process took an hour and a half, and I was constantly asked what time my flight was. I guess they were worried I’d miss it, but I had a whole 15 minutes to spare before boarding.

Thoughts

The whole process of taking my drone into Peru was a huge pain. I’d unfortunately go through this process again just to get nice shots in Peru. Maybe next time it’ll be a faster ordeal. If you have a friend who can hold your bags, then you won’t need to put anything through the xray in the backroom, so you can shave time off there. If I knew I had a tight connecting flight, I wouldn’t ever bother doing this again. If you decide to bring your drone into the country, I hope this post helps!

Visiting Pisac and Chincherro, Peruvian small towns

You flew to Cusco for your adventure. You’ve seen the town itself, trekked to Machu Picchu, gone to the top of Rainbow Mountain, and checked everything off your bucket list but what now? This is where you decide to visit smaller towns with a less touristy feel.

Hiring a Private Driver

There are a few ways to get around in the Cusco area. The first option may be hiring a driver if you value convenience over everything, and don’t mind dropping large sums of cash. The main pro of hiring your own driver is you can go exactly where you want, when you need to, without others on board (if that matters to you). If you have tons of luggage that’s hard to fit on a bus, this might be more convenient, not much more useful than a taxi. The cons: costs the most (USD ~$100 as of today) and you wouldn’t get to experience moving about like a local. In any case, here’s a company you can try if that suits your needs:

Avenida Velasco Astete F28A, Wanchaq, Perú

info@cuzcorentacar.com / reservas@cuzcorentacar.com

+51 984-104-874

Taking the Taxi

This is really easy. Wherever you see a taxi, just stick your hand out and ask how much it’ll be to wherever you’re going, in this case Pisac. Avoid scams! Those are normally at airports, but always ask how much it’ll cost to be sure. You should be paying around 40 to 60 Soles to get there from Cusco. Pros: same as hiring a driver, except you aren’t technically guaranteed to find a taxi on the way back (although this is extremely unlikely). Other than that, it’s definitely a cheaper option if you like the benefits of hiring a driver (above).

Taking the Bus

Your third option can be taking public transport. “But wait, no bus routes show up in Google Maps!” Welcome to (parts of) Latin America. You just gotta know where stuff is — ask people. I stayed at a hostel so there were luckily folks to answer my questions. If you’d like to go from Cusco to Pisac, just ask where the bus to that town is. Staff at my hostel told me it’s on Calle Puputi. Walk down that street until you find a bus marked “Pisac” and potentially people shouting “Pisac! Pisac!”. First ask how much it costs (yes, even ask bus drivers) so you aren’t surprised (it cost me 5 Soles at the time), then ride the thing, and give the driver coins that sum to 5 when you arrive in town. Easy, right? It is, especially your subsequent rides! Getting back to Cusco is the same deal, but in reverse. Pros: super cheap — 5 soles is USD $1.31 as of today. You can also live like a local if that’s your jam. Cons: it might take ever so slightly longer (by several minutes) as opposed to using a taxi or private driver, and you’ll be squished in with as many people as the bus will fit which isn’t ideal if you have lots of luggage. You also have to hunt down the street it’s on which can take more time. Overall, this option gets you to where you need to go for pocket change and lets you live like a local. It’s the best option if you ask me.

Bonus points: go to Calle Pavitos for the town of Chincherro and look for busses that say “Chincherro”. Not sure if the bus is right? Just ask “¿Vamos a Chincherro?” You might get responses like “No” (not helpful) or “No, está lo arriba” (helpful) so you can keep climbing the hill.

Hitch Hiking

Your last option could be hitch hiking. This behavior is more common and accepted in Perú than in other countries like the US. While more undefined and unpredictable, it’s still possible. This option can be more thrilling and potentially free (although, I do recommend you throw your driver at least 1 or 2 Soles as a courtesy). If your driver asks for more than 5 Soles, keep in mind that’s more than the bus. You’ll want to stick your hand out horizontally on a street near the edge of town (in this case, somewhere near but not on Calle Puputi so the busses don’t pick you up) and ask “¿Vamos a Pisac?” if a civilian pulls over, but be prepared for a wildcard especially if your Spanish isn’t great. Most of the time (90%) it’ll work out just fine and the people will be friendly.

What Can You Do in Pisac?

That’s the ultimate question. After you get off the bus in Pisac you should start walking around to take in the town has to offer — an odd zen, tranquil and peaceful vibe, and of course dogs. Grab a pot of tea, enjoy the street art, and take in the countryside’s farms.

That’s the ultimate question. After you get off the bus in Pisac you should start walking around to take in the town has to offer — an odd zen, tranquil and peaceful vibe, and of course dogs. Grab a pot of tea, enjoy the street art, and take in the countryside’s farms.

This place was so weird and so fascinating and fun to walk around in.

What about Chincherro? Less interesting in my opinion, but maybe we didn’t come at the best time (Thursday, not a Sunday, more on that here). There is still a really great opportunity to visit this textile place where kind ladies demoed to us how they produce their textiles. More on that here: https://www.discoveringdestinations.com/discovering-centro-textil-acllas-cusco/

Watch my video!

Solo Exploring Mexico in January

Time to kick off this blog with my first post! Let’s roll back time a bit to get an idea of where we are. In December 2021 I wrote the very last final exam of university ever — truly a weird feeling. The start date for my new job was at the end of February 2022, so with almost two months of nothing to do, I figured filling it with good old-fashioned curiosity was the way to go. What was I interested in? I wanted to know what the bottom of Baja California Sur was like, so I booked the cheapest hotel I could find in Cabo San Lucas and hopped on a plane to Mexico.

My Spanish was in relatively decent shape, but it was definitely a muscle I haven’t flexed in a while. At one point I could understand it well enough to get a scholarship from high school, but it’s been a long while since then.

Day 1

I flew out from Vancouver, Canada and landed in Los Cabos International Airport. Getting through was pretty straightforward since I already printed and filled every single form I could beforehand, including the declaration forms and others related to COVID. I like being prepared so this let me zip to the front of the line when I got there. No visa was required with my Canadian passport, so I got the green stamp on arrival. At the time, some countries were already starting to lay off the COVID test requirements, and Mexico was one of them. That meant no need for an expensive PCR test!

To leave the airport, I got a taxi and had the option to pay in Pesos or US Dollars. You can choose your currency at nearly every transaction you make in Cabo, including at point of sale terminals. You need to decide on a case-by-case basis which currency you’d like to use. An item for US $10 might not also be worth its equivalent in Pesos (USD $1 ≈ MXN $20 when I made this trip) because merchants could offer the item at a discount or markup depending on how you pay. Ask for the item’s price in US dollars and and Pesos, and if it matches the exchange rate, then you could choose either. If you have Pesos you’d like to get rid of near the end of your trip, maybe that’s the better option. However, if you have Canadian dollars (like I did), keep the CAD/USD and CAD/Peso exchange in mind too. In any case, it’s always best to have both forms of currency just in case. I entered Mexico with US dollars and Pesos in cash.

Ariel view of Cabo San Lucas’ resorts and amazing blue water.

After I paid for the taxi, they gave me a slip of paper and I was greeted by the driver. Why did I get a taxi and not an Uber? Well, at the time there was a pretty harsh relationship between the Uber drivers and taxi drivers making it illegal to pick up a passenger at the airport. You could take one to, but not from the airport. Anyways, when I got into the taxi, this is where my high school Spanish knowledge started working at 100%. I spent enough time in what I recall being a Dodge Grand Caravan to get to know the driver. I can proudly say I talked in Spanish with this guy the whole ride, sounding like a preschooler. I learned Jorge had relatives in California, and he pointed at some apartments (which basically looked like resorts) that retirees from the US would live half the year. We talked about the weather, where I was from, how long he’s been driving, what his sisters were like — those sorts of things. I arrived at the Holiday Inn in Cabo San Lucas, and tipped him as a nice gesture for our fun conversation.

The nice thing about Cabo is a lot of English gets thrown around, since it’s a tourist town. This made practicing Spanish pretty convenient because everyone could understand what you were trying to say and could help you out. This happened when I was checking in. I started talking to one of the receptionists in English, and when everything was set, I switched to Spanish to ask whether I could use USD or Pesos in the city. After an awkward stare and short glance at the other receptionist, she exclaimed “Yes! Either!”. I asked where the lobby’s restroom was, and the time for breakfast, which both got me straight answers without the awkward stare this time. For all I know, maybe my first question sounded right, but she was just taken aback. That’s happened before when I was in Hungary trying to order at McDonald’s. The manager came out of his office and shouted “Canada?!” while all the cashiers turned to look. I have absolutely no idea how they knew, but that’s a story for another time. This reaction was way less intense.

I was hungry after all this travelling, so I walked down the road to find a restaurant called Fish in Taco. That’s where I had my first beer ever in Mexico!

Trying to remember what country I’m in.

I asked the waiter what kind of meat he thought was best in the tacos here and he said fish, of course. Not sure I expected a different answer. He did mention he liked corn tortillas the best, so that’s what I had. While I was eating, I couldn’t help but notice the Canadian flag right in front of me. If I expected a foreign flag at all I thought it would be a US one. It made me feel pretty comfortable and welcomed! At this point it was getting late, so I wanted to see the beach before it got too dark. It was tough to access, except through the Riu resort down the road. There was a sign indicating public beach access if you walked through the resort, which was great because the rest was privatized by the other big resorts. I could only find three ways to get to the beach from the Holiday Inn: through the Riu, through Blvd. Constituyentes (which has beach parking for cars), or by going all the way to Fin del Muelle (the very west side). Lucky for me, Riu was right next door. It was so awesome seeing the Arches at the end of the North American west coast as the sun set.

The Arches at dusk.

After relaxing a little bit, I headed back through the Riu and down the alleyway to my hotel. It occurred to me I’d be making this walk every night and needed a better way of getting home but couldn’t really find one. (Luckily?) nothing ever happened to me during this trip.

I visited La Taquiza beside the hotel for more fish tacos and one or many Pacíficos, then headed to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a big day!

Day 2

I was extremely excited for today as it would be a new “first”. I rose pretty early and headed all the way to Cabo Adventures at the far west side. The morning walk was refreshing, the sights were stimulating and Spanish text everywhere was fascinating. I waited outside in shade as others started showing up. I was right on time, but I guess that didn’t matter. I got to know some others from Texas, Colorado, New York and our actual guide from Tennessee. It seemed like everyone was from the US, except me (from Vancouver) and the other guide (from Mexico). We were here to talk about scuba diving safety, something I’ve never done before. We did some training in a dive pool that was made out of a shipping container. When I got back, one of the girls was explaining to our guide how she wanted to propose to her girlfriend while scuba diving. The guide wrote something along the lines of “Will you marry me?” sign on the back of a sign she was planning to turn around while we were underwater. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and was so curious to see how this unique proposal would turn out.

When we were underwater near pelican rock with tons of fish, one of the girls whipped out the sign. Her girlfriend was so surprised she almost lost her mouthpiece. Luckily there was an instructor to help right beside her, so everything was fine. It was a pretty surreal experience for everyone involved, and it was the first proposal I’ve ever witnessed.

The Arches a day later, after my first time scuba diving.

About 30 to 45 minutes later, we hopped back on our boat and had a trip to the Arches. It looked even more beautiful the second day! I absolutely loved getting the opportunity to scuba dive. It was so intriguing to see underwater life, from fish and turtles to the coral reefs. Most of all, it wasn’t even that difficult! There would be a round 2 in the near future…

The girls invited me out to a sushi restaurant by the pier after their near-death scuba diving trip. I learned their names were Nadia and Keisha, from New York. They mentioned to our waiter they just got engaged, so the staff brought out cake with the brightest candle I’ve ever seen, with smiling and clapping. That was a really heartfelt moment I was happy to be part of.

The rest of the day involved exploring more parts of the beach. I found Playa Coral Negro which is a enclave to the main beach, meaning it was quieter and more relaxed, but harder to get to. I kicked back under a straw umbrella for a few hours before meeting up with a friend of a friend who owns a restaurant I had to try.

The name of this place was Casa Martín. Try it if you’re in Cabo! It’s a little tucked away, but so worth it. It’s got a cozy vibe and really great dishes. It turns out the owner, Rosario, went to university with my long-time friend, Francisca. Rosario sat down to have a beer with me, and we talked over dinner, even managing to get Francis on WhatsApp with us. I shook hands with Rosario’s husband and felt really welcomed here.

After dinner, I walked back to my hotel and caught beautiful sights of the harbor. It was an end to a really awesome and eventful day 2!

Day 3

I walked past many establishments on the way to the beach for the last 2 days, one of which was a Walmart. I was so curious to know what a Mexican Walmart was like, and unsurprisingly, it was just like a usual one. The only difference is prices seem a light higher because of the currency conversion and the fact they still use the dollar sign. It took me a minute to realize things weren’t actually as expensive as I thought they were. USD is used all over Cabo, so it’s reasonable I had my initial suspicions! It was there I really understood the concept of immersion language learning. If you’d like to learn a language, going to a country where it’s spoken for a long time is a perfect way to do it. You’re forced to study all the time no matter where you are, and I loved doing it in Spanish.

After I got some breakfast in the mall-area the Walmart was in, I headed back over to the beach through the Riu again. During my walk, I wanted to see what would happen if I sat down in one of the chairs in the resort… and nothing did. I really enjoyed sitting there for a bit and avoiding the solicitors on the beach (yeah, there are tons) so I did some thinking. My hotel was something like USD $53 a night, which was the cheapest hotel I’ve ever stayed in. My goal was just to experience Cabo San Lucas — see the city, do crazy stuff, etc. so I didn’t care for sitting in resorts. But, wasn’t staying in a resort part of the whole experience? It didn’t have to be all of it. I made a split-second decision to book a room for one night in Villa Del Palmar. Overall, I’m happy I got a chance to have this experience because it’s a wild story, but oh boy, wait until you hear some of the nasty stuff next.

A moment of “yeah, this rocks” from my room’s balcony

The whole check-in process was… long. A concierge woman greeted me and asked so many questions about what I was celebrating, how long I’m in Cabo, where I’m from, what my interests are, and showed me a map of all the amenities, paid events, and sections of the resort. There was even somehow a free lunch the next day for “people with jobs”. I just graduated university so I didn’t technically have a job at the moment, but I was starting it the following month. I guess that was close enough because I got invited to the lunch, though I didn’t see how it mattered if you had a job or not since it was free. That’s where my naïveness would began… The rest of the day involved eating at the resort’s restaurants and putting back some margaritas. There was a liquor store in the resort where I picked up a bottle of tequila for later that night. It was priced like those back home in Vancouver, so I was used to overpaying. Buying that thing was such a goofy mistake. I sat on my deck later that evening and sipped it a bit, then me neighbors appeared on either side. That bottle was a great way to make friends fast. After that, I went down to find dinner. That involved me running into the same concierge woman, and failing to remember how human communication worked because we just laughed at each other. She suggested I attend a show that was going on (which was paid), so I walked in and just sat down. I got asked for my ticket 10 seconds later and realized I didn’t have one; I got up and left — the show would have to be another time. To get back on track, I focused on finding dinner. An hour and a half had gone by since I started wondering around the resort after the tequila took effect. I somehow ended up ordering grilled vegetables on the beach, which is probably not what I even wanted in the first place. About 20 minutes later, a fireworks show started in the distance. It was a moment of pure tequila-fueled bliss.

I don’t remember ordering this.

Day 4

Luckily I didn’t need to walk through a dark alley back to my old hotel. It was so much easier to hop in the elevator and head straight up to bed, but it was harder than ever to get out of bed. I was woken up by the terrifying sound of my room’s phone at 7:45am. The same concierge woman called to ask if I was coming down for the free breakfast. I’m not sure why it changed from a lunch to a breakfast, and that was the last thing I wanted because I had a splitting headache. However, it could be a good reason to get me up instead of being inside all day. I had a huge headache from the tequila and wanted nothing to do with it for the rest of the trip. There was a bottle of water in the kitchen that I chugged down to soothe the hangover. The next thing I knew, I was downstairs and ready for whatever this breakfast was. I was greeted by a woman who was also conveniently from Vancouver, BC as well. She gave me a disclaimer that this was a marketing event and she was going to try to sell me something. She spun it off an opportunity to use a points system to get free rooms at a number of resorts across Mexico for 50 years. I like using rewards programs and credit card deals, but this wasn’t really one of those. It was more of a timeshare, and I’ve never heard of that before, so I just wanted to keep an open mind and sat through the thing — this was also a “first” for me. After all, we got to chat and have free food. At one point we talked about traveling with COVID tests and how you didn’t need one coming into Mexico, but you did going back to Canada, to which she mentioned “I’ve faked my friend’s COVID tests”. I didn’t know how to reply to that. I’m not a fan of paying for those tests either, but I’m also not a fan of putting others in danger by spreading it around. There’s more I could say but we don’t need to go on a tangent. Anyways, she showed me some pretty nice rooms that I could have for free with this points system, then brought me into an office where I was offered a variety of drinks, from water, to coffee, to (you guessed it) more tequila. The alcohol was the first thing they offered by I declined and asked for a coffee instead since last night was a bit much. I was presented with a form that incentivized me to pay $12,000 to get access to this program for 50 years. That amount of money was a lot for a student who just graduated, so I called some people I trusted to get a second opinion, and both of them told me not to do it.

A view from one of the rooms you could get with this points system.
The deal of a lifetime.

I came back inside the office and was met with a disgruntled person at the other end of the desk when I said it wasn’t of interest to me. From there, I was brought to another woman outside when I thought it was over. This new person presented me with two counteroffers, to which I also declined. Our conversation ended with her telling me “shame on you” which left a sour taste in my mouth. I thought about them waking me up at 7:45am after a hangover, and wasting 5 hours, so I didn’t feel guilty by any means. The rest of the day involved eating at the resort’s restaurants, relaxing on the sectioned-off beach area, then heading back to my old hotel through the Riu. That’s the story of how I learned what a timeshare was! I ran into some street cats which lifted my mood as I tried to forget about what happened. If there’s anything I can take away, it’s that I was pretty naïve about what people offer in tourist-ridden areas. At least now I don’t have to fall for these types of things again.

I flopped down in my old bed with the cursed bottle of tequila staring at me from the dresser. Tomorrow was a new day (a rather exciting one) so I headed to bed to rest up.

Day 5

Today I was going to do something wild in near El Trampuchete, about 55km north of Cabo San Lucas. I was excited to get out of the city (not that it wasn’t fun!) and explore more of Baja California Sur. A pre-arranged bus picked myself and others up in the morning. It was absolutely incredible to see massive stretches of beach for kilometers on-end, all completely empty. This was also the first time I’ve seen wild cacti, which made the scenes even more amazing and unique. For as far as I could see, there was blue ocean, untouched beaches, and dark green grass with cacti. One of my guides later described it as a “tropical desert”.

I arrived at at Rancho Tierra Sagrada where I partook in a couple interesting things, including meeting some animals on the farm, and eating some spicy chocolate. The real fun part came when I hopped on a camel and rode across the isolated beach with a few others.

First of all, riding a camel? Never done it. Second of all, in Mexico? I didn’t even know they had camels in Mexico. It turns out these were rescue camels, imported somewhere from California if I recall correctly. This was indeed a real novelty to me, but I’m happy it lasted only 20 minutes. It was surprisingly pretty uncomfortable, but the scenic views definitely cancelled that out. I got a chance to talk with another woman near Port Angeles, Washington which is near where I live now (depending now how far you think Seattle is). After we headed back to the stables, we had an awesome lunch and tequila tasting — my worst enemy returned in numbers.

Near the end of our tasting, I ran into a couple wearing Seek Discomfort hoodies from Toronto. As a fairly early fan of Yes Theory, I had a long-sleeved shirt being shipped to my home in Canada, but it didn’t arrive in time for this trip. My face lit up as I knew they were like-minded adventure-seekers who just wanted to do fun stuff that made them just uncomfortable enough. They were in Cabo for two weeks and had come on this bus with me to drive ATVs around the beach. That sounded like a ton of fun — something I should try next time somewhere else. I got up early in the day, so I had plenty of time left in the day when the bus got back to Cabo San Lucas. I walked around the marina and lost count of the Del Mar pharmacies in a 2 block radius.

I finished off the day with a seriously awesome meal at Mango Deck right on the beach. It steadily became more intense as the night went on. There was a stage and dinner tables right on the sand, but honestly, I’m happy they didn’t put me there. When the sun set, it was half rowdy party and half dinner time. I was happy to observe whatever was going on from a distance. That gave me a change to practice some Spanish with my waiter Martín. I always enjoy talking to waiters and waitresses to ask where they’re from and what it’s like to work here. Martín said he liked living in Cabo because there was always something going on, and honestly I couldn’t disagree.

Confrontation time!

After dinner, I walked along the beach and tried to enter through the Riu again to get back to my hotel, as usual. It was at that point things went south. I didn’t have a Riu wristband and realized the beach public access route closed at 6pm, and it was well past 6pm. Uh oh! If I couldn’t enter through there, then I’d have to walk all the way to the west side of the beach, exit it, then walk back the same distance along the roads. There were a couple guys who were asking for my wristband in Spanish which I didn’t have. They probably thought I was some random person on the beach trying to sneak into the resort at night — fair, I guess, but you can technically do that during the day. I explained I wanted to go back to my hotel and didn’t want to walk all the way around the beach. They had someone escort me through the resort to the back alley that led to my hotel. That’s the way I was going to walk anyways, but hey, I had a friend to talk with for 5 minutes. This whole ordeal happened in Spanish and I only had to ask for clarification less than a handful of times so I’m guessing they like they I tried? Anyways, lesson learned: get off the beach before 6pm if you’re near the Holiday Inn and have to go back there. What a crazy day!

Day 6

Ah yes, day 6! That’s the day I had to get my PCR test. It was 2900 Pesos, or around USD $145 at the time. I got it from BlueNet Hospitals, which was pretty easy to book online. I needed that for flying back into Canada. When I arrived, the person I talked with took a picture of my driver’s license and sent it somewhere on WhatsApp, then walked inside with it, leaving me behind. I immediately freaked out and followed her inside which started a commotion. Someone at the other end of the room told me to wait outside but I explained I had no idea what this person was doing with my driver’s license. I was given it back and had the pleasure of waiting for half an hour more. Thinking back to this moment, in other countries if I reacted this way it could have gone a lot worse. Still, it creeped me out. In any case, I’ve since moved to the US so that old license is now invalid.

I don’t recall the test taking too long to come back either. Other than that strange encounter, the whole process was fairly easy. I could walk to the hospital from my hotel and do the test in the parking lot outside.

The rest of the day? Relaxing on the beach and trying out weird drinks by the marina. I’ll let you guess which one this was below. Hint: it was MXN $250.

There were some soldiers holding what looked like AKs on the beach with some women flirting with them. Can’t say I’ve seen something like that before at all.

I spent the rest of the night at Fisherman’s Landing and caught the sunset. It was really beautiful that evening! I wandered around at night a bit, but learned my lesson regarding the beach and stayed off after 6pm as I didn’t want to walk to the other end.

Day 7

Today was unofficially the last day, so I got to sleep in a little for the first time.

If there was anything I got out of staying at that crazy resort, it was a snorkeling trip. I wanted to see how it compared to scuba diving, so I took the opportunity to hop on a boat and do it at a discount through the resort before I left. Today was the day for that! On my way over to the marina, I passed by a McDonald’s and had to try it out in Mexico. They had a bunch of menu items I haven’t seen before in Canada, including this thing called McMolletes, which looked nothing like the picture:

When I got to the boat, in classic Cabo fashion, I was asked to upgrade my ticket to an “unlimited drinks” tier for USD $25. I had to decline for the sake of my liver.

The snorkeling was somewhat interesting but not particularly exciting. The coral reefs and variety of sea life by Pelican rock while scuba diving a few days ago was on a different level than this. On the upside, I met this cool guy from San Francisco on the boat named Marco, and after we finished swimming, we inevitably partook in some tequila shots on the boat.

The arches, with overcast on Sunday

The boat turned into a huge alcohol-fueled party which was a nice ice-breaker as I got to meet more people on board. We even saw some whales swimming in the distance.

Later in the day I booked a ride to the airport using Transportes Josefinos, and regrettably realized they only serviced from the airport, but not to it. I cancelled that reservation and thought I’d just get an Uber the next morning instead. I wanted to avoid that due to potential Uber confrontation, even though that only happens if you get an Uber from the airport. I went to bed early to rest up before my flight.

Day 8, going home

Getting an Uber ended up being an alright idea after all! I had a nice chat with my driver on the way back. It was a great 7 days that I’m happy I spent in this unique part of Mexico.

It’s typical of me to over-prepare and arrive early at the airport, so I went into one of the lounges to kill a few hours before the flight. It turns out Marco (from the snorkeling boat) was flying out the same day, so he joined me in the lounge! I learned he was also traveling solo to broaden his horizons some more. He was super tight with his brothers back home in California and an all-around nice guy to hang out with.

When Marco had to catch his flight, I said bye and we parted ways. After that, it occurred to me that I haven’t shown anyone my negative COVID PCR test yet. That didn’t happen at security, so I figured it would at the gate. Coming from Canada, I was pretty used to the song and dance by now. It turns out nobody cared about the $145 test I took because everyone on the flight was told to board as usual. When I landed in YVR, they made me do a (free) COVID test at the airport on arrival, so I started questioning the need for a pre-arrival test. Neither Canada nor Mexico checked the one I paid for. In any case, I was back to the crisp, cool weather in January. It was a real contrast to the 7 days of heat.

Conclusion

I learned at least one thing on this trip and met some cool people along the way.

There are folks who prey on naïve tourists. If a limited-time deal at a commercial hotel or resort is too good to be true, it probably is.

Even despite that, I loved the experiences I had and the people I met along the way, including Marco, Kesha and Nadia (congrats on your marriage)!

The next time I visit, I’d love to see Mexico City and how it contrasts a typical tourist town. This was a wonderful first step into exploring a foreign country alone. I’m exciting to turn it up a notch next time!