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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
good!!!