Today’s Topic: Worst Experiences!

1) What do you hate the most about traveling?

I hate repacking my backpack. The moment I get to a hostel (or any other kind of accommodation), things come flying out of my bag as I rush to see my surroundings. It’s like this everyday. Things- clothes, toiletries, shoes, books, towels, etc.- almost never return into the backpack until the day I have to leave. As you can imagine, it’s a never-ending game of hunting, gathering, and reorganizing.

2) Is there any situation you try to avoid when traveling?

The most important situations I try to avoid are getting robbed, physically harmed, or going to jail.

3) How do you avoid that situation?

Well, as I regularly travel by myself, I tend to avoid going out by myself late at night in areas where the crime rate is high. I keep a watchful eye out, am aware of my surroundings, am super careful with my valuables, and always think about what I would do if something were to happen. This usually prevents being robbed or harmed, but there are never any guarantees. As for the jail part, I try to stay as far away from police as I can, and also learn the country’s laws beforehand so I don’t end up with the death penalty.

4) Cruise/Flights/Bikes/Cars/Bus – which is your least favorite way of traveling?

I love being in motion, so most modes of transportation are just fine with me. However, until recently, I was petrified of motorcycles. Being in Vietnam and Thailand forced me to face that issue, since it’s the most practical way to get where you need to go. Still, I have a lot of respect for how much damage riding motorcycles can cause. They don’t call them “organ donors” for no reason.

5) What is your worst experience while traveling?

Since my mom sometimes reads what I write, I can’t really disclose the absolute worst. Let me put it this way: I have been in several situations that would have made most people swear off traveling. I’ll give you two consolation prizes. 1) Being lost by myself in the Brazilian jungle for hours, thinking I was going to be eaten by a tiger when night fell, screaming for help as I walked through the dense brush. 2) Getting caught in the undertow in Cahuita, Costa Rica, tossed around like a rag doll by the waves, being slammed into the ocean floor repeatedly, not knowing if the sky was above or below me, or if I’d have a chance to take another breath. Obviously, I did.