I wake up on the top bunk, my backpack beside me. 2 days ago I committed one of the cardinal sins of travel, and now I'm paying the price.
That's right...I drank the water.
On my last day of a yoga training in northern Peru, I asked the beachside bartender to fill up my water bottle. All week I had been diligent about filling my bottle from the filter station. This time, though, I was in a rush to get to get to the beach, and simply stopped by the bar for a quick top-off. The stomach cramps ahead didn't even register as the cold, clear water streamed from the tap into my trusty Kleen Kanteen. That tickle in my tummy as I splashed in the waves? Yeah...I must be hungry.
3 hours later, though, on the bus back to Lima, all doubt flew out the little sliding window next to my head. Bugs had invaded my system, and my body wanted them GONE.
Now, here I am, in a bed in a hostel in the middle of the city with 4 friends from the training...and we've all got it. Thank God there's a bathroom nearby.
What would you do?
You're sick in a city you've never visited, and your time is running out. Soon you'll be back home, telling stories to your friends, and this chapter will be over. Do you lie in bed for a few hours more, moaning & longing for freedom from your sulphuric breath & aching muscles, or do you strike out in search of the next adventure?
Well, it all depends on what kinds of stories you want to tell.
Traveling is one of the richest experiences a human can have. Everywhere you look there's newness. People's voices sound different (especially if there's a language gap), the smells of the food are foreign & fascinating, the buildings adhere to different codes, and through it all, you must find your own way.
In San Jose, Costa Rica with nothing but time on my hands, I hit the streets in search of something to eat. I had no clue where to go. The locals guided me to expensive, touristy spots. The guidebooks did much the same. Those places were okay...I had certainly fine-dined a few times, but this time I wanted something more authentic. I decided to experiment.
The game: Follow beauty at every turn. Every time I came to a new nexus, I sought the most beautiful path. The more sunlit side of the street, the most interesting looking windows, the sounds of laughter & aliveness. I wound through the alleyways, past blooming gardens and new museums & posters calling for revolution. Within 20 minutes I found a small campus for the arts, which housed a cute, clean little café. Food for students & professoros. Delicious, simple, and perfect for a traveller on a budget.
Through mini-adventures & small victories, you bolster your growing sense of self-reliance. Then you begin to bump up against the culture. New cultures call for new protocols. Different people do things differently.
In the beginning you may resist, adhering to your own rituals & ways of getting through the world. Soon though, you begin to break down. You start to soften, and that's when compassion enters the picture. Rather than seeing all the differences, you start noticing commonalities. You come to realize that we're all essentially the same. This experiential knowledge is what we often call wisdom.
Rural India has temples on the side of the road. Sometimes elaborate, but most often, simply little dollhouse sized shrines to various deities. From time to time you'll see someone kneeling on the shoulder next to a parked scooter, chanting their mantras & offering prostrations in exchange for blessings & peace of mind.
Hitchhiking is the norm in the ocean-side villages of Nicaragua. Sometimes people don't even fully stop...they just slow down enough for you to jump in the back of the truck. When you get close to where you're going, you just knock on the window & the driver slows down again so you can hop out.
I get up from my bunk bed, shower, dress & head out. My head is still swimming as the daylight fills my squinty eyes, and the city sounds ring loud in my ears. My stomach clenches, and that's when it hits me.
I smell bread. There's a bakery right across the street, and they make delicious, local bread. Next door there's a farmacia, and they sell antibioticos over the counter. 2 blocks away is a market, and they sell probiotic-rich kefir.
In Peru, the homeless don't beg. They perform. I watch a circus act expertly executed by a rag-tag troupe of gypsies, then spot a travel agency and a bank. Before the day is done, my stomach has settled, I've hugged my friends, my wallet is full and I'm on a bus bound for the mountains, where Machu Picchu awaits.
What will you do?
Will you stay home, cradled by the comforts of a life you've always known? Or will you pack your bags, find new friends and seek out adventure? Will you face challenges & difficulties, growing stronger & more resilient? Will you blow your own mind with natural beauty & miraculous marvels, filling your memory with romances, dancing & delightful danger?
Well, I suppose it all depends on what kinds of stories you want to tell.
We're listening.
Ps. Do yourself a favor...Don't drink the water.