I’ve seen 3 different countries in the last 4-ish weeks. I’m now more confident and proficient in Spanish than ever (thanks, Antonio from Lake Atitlan Spanish School!), learned how to surf, and I’m halfway finished my Open Water PADI Diving Certification. All while freelancing-- I guess I just couldn’t give up my western, capitalist ideals.
After finishing my undergraduate degree at the University of Waterloo in December, I decided to set off for Central and South America for what started as an indefinite amount of time. I’ve since bought a return ticket back to Canada, but only because I’m setting off to Europe and Africa, not even a week after I land. My only two other solo trips outside of North America have been to Central America (Nicaragua and Panama) and for only 2 weeks at a time since I was still in school. It felt like such a tease when I’d go to these countries and fall in love with the people, the sights, and the general backpacking lifestyle. I’d meet all of these other travellers who were on the road for 4-5 months, sometimes years, expats who went on a vacation similar to mine and simply never left. I needed to see what was out there for me if I just let myself do it with no limitations.
That’s another reason why I’m working while travelling. In addition to simply being a pack mule and being raised to love working and making money, I don’t have enough years in the workforce under my belt to have saved up a huge lump sum and travel off of that. The Bank of Mom and Dad was instrumental throughout my college years, but now that I’m a “big girl”, it’s time to take matters into my own hands. With working remotely and freelancing, I can still have a steady stream of income that I can adjust according to what my plans are. It also means I don’t have to slum it up in hostels all of the time (but they are fun!). And, some things never change. No matter where I am in the world, I’ll always love shopping. At only 27 days into my trip, I’ve already sent several things back to North America with friends I made on the road so that I’ll have more room in my 55L backpack.
My “office” view in Guatemala.
Something that always frustrated me during my other trips was my lack of ability to communicate with locals. I once went on a Tinder date in Panama that consisted of myself and a very handsome guy passing my phone back and forth typing on Google Translate. Very romantic. So, I decided to head to Guatemala to learn Spanish before I embarked on the rest of my trip, especially since I know I’ve pushed my luck as a solo female traveller, and I wanted to empower myself the best that I could.
That’s why I started in Guatemala. It was dreamy and I was NOT expecting to love it as much as I did. During my last day in the country, I even got a tattoo of the national bird. When I landed, I headed straight for Antigua, a colonial town with panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and volcanos, where I celebrated New Year’s Eve. There, I met up with a fellow Asian-Canadian female traveller who had been taking Spanish classes there for a month. She showed me the ropes and took me around, but a days worth of travelling meant I didn’t even make it to midnight before I headed back to my hostel. The great thing about solo travel is that you can listen to yourself and what you need and then do it with no apology.
I won’t lie and say that I was excited and thrilled right off the bat. The truth is, I’m going through a transition period between being a student, living in my apartment in Waterloo for so many years, and entering the workforce full time, travelling while not knowing where “home” is. I felt myself clinging on to any bit of security back home and wanted to feel grounded somewhere. It was on my overnight volcano hike to Volcàn Acatenango where I met people much older than me with much more responsibilities that I realized how lucky I am to be in a place in my life, and in a career that allows me to travel with very little stress and attachment. Doing that hike also gave me the confidence to embark on the next leg of my trip— it was the hardest thing I’ve physically done and I didn’t think I was capable— so doing it made me feel like a true badass.
A volcano erupting behind me at sunrise!
After some time in the city and a few days on a black sand beach in El Paredon, I headed to Lake Atitlan, a volcanic crater lake with villages sprinkled around its perimeter to base myself for 2 weeks. Taking 4 hours of classes a day, 5 days a week, combined with the local cultural activities organized by the school was certainly challenging, but incredibly worth it. The locals of Lake Atitlan are almost exclusively of Indigenous Mayan descent- so they learn Spanish as a second language, which makes them incredible teachers and very patient with my gringo Spanish.
There was something magical about being on the lake. San Pedro La Laguna is the village I was based, which is also known as the party village. I found it very easy to escape the party scene and immerse myself in nature and local culture (but I did spend a fair amount of time on Gringolandia, the street where most tour companies and hostels are based). It’s something about seeing women in their stunning traditional,hand woven clothes, the locals carrying incredible weights on their back, the ban on plastic bags, and the sort of traveller that is attracted to Lake Atitlan that made me never want to leave.
While I was in Guatemala, I met up with my American friend Arely, a fellow female solo traveller I met in Panama in 2019. She was visiting her family in El Salvador, so it worked out that we could explore Guatemala, a place I would have loved to call home, and her home country. We headed to Santa Ana, El Salvador to hope to hike a volcano, see Lake Coatepeque, and of course, eat some pupusas. While her family doesn’t live in Santa Ana, it was still a great time to have a “local” help me explore.
Lake Coatepeque, El Salvador with an “old” friend.
Now, I’m in Utila, Honduras. I also call it the poor man’s Roatan, as it’s a part of the Bay Islands in Honduras which have a more Caribbean feel than the rest of Central America. It’s the cheapest place in the world to learn how to dive, with PADI Open Water and Advanced courses costing around $300 USD for accommodations, dives, and equipment. The same course would cost close to thousands in Canada, and you’d most likely be diving in cold, freshwater. Here, the crystal clear water and white sand, combined with the diverse wildlife of salt water and coral reefs, means that I’m actually a little spoiled to have a prime location for starting my diving career.
My days have been busy, but a little routine never hurt anyone. It’s funny going from a university lecture hall setting straight into two different classroom settings with both my Spanish school and diving course. I’m definitely looking forward to the next leg of my trip where I don’t plan on doing intensive lessons of any sort— so I can actually just focus on working and travelling. I believe that sometimes, making plans is a bad omen while you’re long term travelling, so I don’t want to announce what or where is next for me, but it’s somewhere that really has a special place in my heart.