I got off the plane in Panama City with no reservation, no idea of what to do, and no idea where to go. All I knew was that in five weeks I had to somehow fly back home from San José, Costa Rica.
Having traveled a lot with my family growing up, I was familiar with experiencing different cultures. Yet, those experiences were very touristic, secure, and safe. For my very first time, alone, here in Central America, standing in the rain on a dirty street, I was in a new environment without the comfort of even a working cell service, much less a hotel. I told myself I would say “yes” to every new situation that presented itself. I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone. I wanted a good story.
Within just the first couple of days of saying “yes”, I had made some friends from Australia and Italy and found myself on the San Blas islands sleeping in a hammock inside an elementary school. I was on the island of a native tribe called the Kuna. Unlike many tourist-laden “tribal experiences”, this was not normal. There was no song and dance and selling of trinkets. There was no guide to show us how they lived and take us on a tour of the village. The Kuna people just lived their day-to-day lives, sold us fish for dinner, and the chief rolled us marijuana joints and told us stories of his tribe.
After another two weeks or so of “yeses”, I found myself on a volcano island in the middle of a lake in Nicaragua. Looking down, the infestation of hookworm in my feet had finally started healing after taking some parasite medication (this had started from a “yes” to exploring the jungle barefoot). Here, in Isla Ometepe, there aren’t really many cars at all. The only way to get around is typically by motorcycle. While at the rental hut, the new Brazilian and German friends I was with all stated that they knew how to ride motorcycles. The peer pressure turned on as they all looked to me to see if I knew how to ride as well.
“…Yes,” I replied, full well knowing I had no idea how to ride. Ten minutes later, hiding in the bathroom, trying to watch “How to Ride a Motorcycle” videos on YouTube with the worst WiFi connection, my friends told me they were ready to ride up to a magnificent waterfall. Three crashes, a broken headlight, a twisted frame, and a 2nd-degree blistering football-sized burn on my inner thigh later, I was proudly on top of the island staring at one of the most beautiful waterfalls I’ve ever seen.
A couple more weeks of “yeses” passed by and I found myself in El Salvador. Waking up every morning, swatting all the flies off my still unhealed burn, I found myself unable to hear properly out of my left ear for whatever reason. Soon I ended up saying yes to a Tinder date with a local El Salvadoran girl. This, quite possibly, was one of the most informative dates I’ve ever been on. While eating a bowl of seasoned raw clams (still quite alive), I learned so much about the El Salvadoran people and about her own wish to be a doctor to help treat the poor there.
On my last week of “yeses”, I found myself in Costa Rica. I met with a friend who happened to be there also for a college anthropology project. He found me dirty, sunburned, still healing from my leg burn and my hookworm, and all-the-while hairless and covered in massive acne (I had said “yes” earlier to a full body waxing). Yet never once had a smile escaped my face. I had spent 5 weeks backpacking through four countries saying yes to every food, every drink, and every activity that was presented. I met other travelers from all around the world and even hitchhiked with local families driving through the jungles.
I kissed, I laughed, I wandered, I talked, and I pointed when I couldn’t talk. I found myself sleeping in hammocks, floors, boats, and even had to share the last bed in a hostel with a Swiss boy because they thought we were a couple. Very little about this trip was comfortable, easy, or calm, yet it was exactly what I wanted: a story.
To this day, I have made it my personal goal to travel to at least one new country every year with no plans, no reservations, and a motto to say “yes” to everything. It is with every ounce of me that I implore the people I meet to perhaps try the same. Of course, I want them to stay safe, but I also want them to make mistakes, get out of their comfort zones, and say yes to the things they normally would shy away from. It’s only through putting ourselves through discomfort that we learn to grow. And strangely enough, it’s often through those uncomfortable times that we find our best friends, opportunities, and memories.
Far too often we tell ourselves, “One day I’ll travel. One day I’ll have that grand adventure.” But honestly, most people never will. It starts with one excuse after another: “I first have to finish college”, “Well now I need to get a job”, “I have to plan my wedding first”, “I just bought a house, so that’ll eat up my savings for a while”, “With the kids in the house, I’ll have to wait until they’re older before I can leave”, etc. Before you know it, your pushing retirement in your 60s or later and so far your “life adventure” has been to a couple of all-inclusive resorts in Cancun. I cannot urge people enough to make your adventures now…while you’re young. You won’t regret it.
One last detail…almost a month after coming back from that Central American trip and I was still having hearing problems in my ear. In the hospital where I work, we found a tiny little volcanic rock lodged up next to my eardrum from a volcano sledding trip I had done in Nicaragua. Holding that little rock in my hand, I thought back, and I smiled the biggest smile ever.