What are the highs and lows of solo travel?

I recently tested positive for COVID. Thankfully, I am asymptomatic and safely quarantining, but this experience brings me back to my first encounter with illness during my sabbatical. It was in Huaraz, where this newsletter left off, and where I started to reflect on the highs and lows of solo travel. 

While Huaraz is one of my most favorite stops of all of Peru, it didn’t start that way.

Thanks to a few rounds of pisco sour baptizing new friendships at Trujillo, a last minute boarding of an overnight bus, and a propensity to motion sickness, I arrived at Huaraz very dehydrated and miserable. I had a hard time carrying my own luggage off the bus.

My phone had also died, so dollop a good amount of anxiety on top of the no-good morning I was already having. I had to rely on a taxi driver’s generosity to use his phone to guess at the hostel I had booked, and then the receptionist’s faith in my word that I had a reservation even though he couldn’t find it in his system and I couldn’t provide a confirmation number at the time.  

The no-good morning progressed to a terrible day overall, because altitude sickness hit me like a truck. Huaraz is 3,000 m above sea level, the highest I had ever been. I was extremely tired and dizzy, in the brief periods I was awake. I was also still recovering from some digestion problems, maybe residual effects from ayahuacua that was re-ignited by the motion sickness. That’s why in the first two days of being at a city surrounded by ranges of mountains, the only views I enjoyed were my bedroom and the bathroom.

Like I said, Huaraz had a really shit start.  

The streets of Huaraz as crowded as the company I kept during my stay.

That first day in Huaraz, I acutely remember having to constantly decide whether to tend to my overwhelming fatigue or my need for water. I knew I needed water, but I doubted if I had the strength to fetch it. At the peak moment where I couldn’t choose between the two, I held a little pity party for myself. I felt so alone and abandoned. And for the first time, I really doubted my decision to travel solo.

As someone who loves people and intimacy, I always thought solo travel was not for me. Where do I look when I’m eating meals? (It depends: depending on the environment, you people watch; depending on your energy level, you space out; depending on how much you enjoy your own company and the present, you tune into the taste and the weight of the moment.) Who do I turn to share extraordinary moments? (You learn to appreciate how existential loneliness is part of even a well-lived life. Or, you accept that you will share your life with not just bosom friends and loyal family, but also strangers you share indeliable memories with and then never see again. Your experience of life is a composite of many people, and not all are meant to stay in your life.)

But as someone with a lot of ambitious travel plans and impatience, solo travel has been the only option, other than to not travel. Regret has always been more tortuous than embarrassment to me, and so here we are. 

Like how an overcast sky clears to reveal a majestic range of mountains, my initial difficulties in Huaraz helped change my perspective of my sabbatical. In Huaraz, I experienced how solo travel makes the lows low, and the highs high.  

There will be days where you go a long time without having a real conversation with someone, days where you will feel keenly disconnected from the world around you.

There will also be days when you’ll be awed at an intense connection with a stranger at this unlikely intersection of fate. The more different they are, the more unlikely of a pair you make, the more joyful the meeting.

There will be days you are sick, far from everything that is familiar, and from people who would care for you. It makes you doubly unwell with sadness. There will also be days, though, where strangers’ grace and generosity in your moments of vulnerability will heal doubts in humanity. 

There will be days where you are your worst enemy, critical of your every fault and mistake. There will be other days where you take your role as your own biggest advocate seriously.   

There will be days where you feel exhausted by the simplest tasks, like trying to have conversations with the shopkeeper. There will be days where you’re invigorated by the simplest pleasures, like freshly squeezed juice in the mornings. 

There will be days where you become acquainted with a new shade of loneliness. Other days, you discover a new degree of comfort of being alone. On other days, you will coincidentally reunite with familiar faces without any effort on either of your parts. 

There will be days where the occasional financial exploitation costs more grace than you can afford in the moment. There will be days where you make precious memories that make all the trouble more than worth it.

There will be days where you will be misunderstood, and you misunderstand others. There will be days where you share shy smiles and synchronized laughter.

There will be days where you feel overwhelmed by how you have to constantly show up. There will be days where you feel satiated by how engaged you feel in every moment and aspect of life. These sensations aren’t exclusive to solo travel life, but you feel them in extremes. The stakes are higher, the rewards more intoxicating.

When solo traveling, there are days that start with difficult mornings and end with magical evenings.

In Huaraz, I contributed a few mistakes that made my life difficult: booking a private hotel room rather than a social hostel, taking a tour entirely in Spanish (which I'm not fluent in), not having enough cash on me, not getting medicine earlier. My biggest mistake, however, was being too hard on myself for not having an ideal experience in every aspect from the very start. 

But Huaraz was also the first time I can truly say I felt so proud at how strong and self-sufficient I proved to be. I was able to take care of myself, in sickness and hardship. I experienced new levels of loneliness, and survived. I navigated my first hike all by myself, in a foreign country no less– I, who gets so easily lost and distracted in city streets. I approached the limits of my physicality, and learned to appreciate my body who has always been my loyal servant to my whims. I learned to push through my discomfort, simply because there was no other choice; as in hiking, you simply have to continue putting one foot in front of the other. I was reminded that my approach to having everything figured out and ascertained is not the only way of navigating the world, and not the best way anyway– it’s just the most comfortable.

Although it was not my easiest week, that week in Huaraz corrected my unrealistic expectation that every week of my sabbatical was going to be a great week. If we could only remember that fortune is dispersed on an ongoing wheel, that the valleys are part of the mountain landscape, we could maybe find peace in all there is to come. Huaraz is one of my favorite stops because it enriched the rest of my experiences in Peru. 

Huaraz and solo traveling reminded me that feelings of doubt and discomfort can be precursors to growth. This week showed me that I am capable of my greatest wishes, and bigger than my biggest fears. 

I knew that before, but I now believe it

  • What was a rueful mistake that turned out to be one of your most valuable lessons?

  • What’s your relationship to challenges? How do you feel about them, how do you handle them?

What's in Huanchaco?

After my ayahuasca experience at Mai Niti, my next stop was Huanchaco: where I went to surf and spend some time decompressing my ayahuasca experience.

Although I’m not very good at surfing, it’s the first sport I can genuinely say I enjoy. Its contradictory nature makes it feel new and alive every time: waiting for a wave can be meditative, but it’s the adrenaline rush when you finally catch wave that gets you addicted; you have to be constantly observing and adjusting to the waves but there’s also an inevitable surrender to the ocean; you can feel powerful when you leverage the momentum of the wave but wipe out in the next; it’s as restorative as it is rejuvenating, and beautiful at sunset as it is at sunrise. If I’m always trying to find a balance between who I am and who I want to become, surfing seems to be the funnest way of practicing the pull and push between what is and what could be.

Peru boasts a few surfing destinations like Chicama, the longest left wave in the world, or the classic party beach town of Mancora, but Huanchaco promised to be a quieter surf town with historical ruins to explore for when one was done surfing for the day.

Huanchaco is described as a beach city, but it still feels like a small town. Partly because the tourism scene is still underdeveloped, but also the constant state of construction, the lack bustling commercial streets (there’s no supermarket or international chain stores), and the stronghold of cultural traditions that live on in Huanchaco.

Sand in every crevice and corner.

Huanchaco is famous for its caballitos de tortas (reed), which literally translates into little horses of tortas, because fisherman sit on them as if they were horses. These caballitos trace back to pre-Incan times to the Chimu civilization.

The cabellitos de tortas on the left.

Everything from the inheritance of the fields where the reeds grow to the construction of these caballito is still governed by tradition and legacy. These caballitos still line the beaches and populate the beaches of Huanchaco; fishermen don’t use any other boats.

The fields of tortas, which can only be passed down within the family.

After growing for nine months, the reeds are cut and laid out to dry.

It’s a sleepy town, with cobblestones and a rhythm of life set by the pace of the waves. Sand is everywhere on the streets, and seafood, of course, is a given here.

To be honest, I was a little nervous to leave the comforts of Mai Niti, after all this would mark my real foray into solo backpacking life. No set schedules, no ready meals, and no restrictions. With freedom comes a heavy responsibility to make use of it.

The first day here, marked by a airport taxi that ripped me off to the city center, a nervewrecking navigation to a mobile operator store without data, a moment worried I wouldn’t be able to unlock my phone, and extremely confusing directions the hostel, didn’t bode well for me. However, time wore away the initial anxiety as the ocean waves do to sandcastles.

I filled my days with Spanish and surfing lessons, and recovered from a persistent stomachache that could’ve been from trying to go ham after the restrictive ayahuasca diet, or bad food itself.

Outside of Chan Chan.

As for the historic ruins, while Chan Chan is often touted as the must see destination, the actual experience is underwhelming because so little of it is preserved. The nearby Huacas del Sol y Luna was much more impressive, includes a museum and tour guide in admission (5S vs Chan Chan’s 50s for a tour guide), and much more well preserved so there’s more to enjoy. With the scale and complexity the Huacas, the presence of life and the weight of time is undeniable. Just like grand natural vistas, great historical feats remind you how small and inconsequential you are- in the best way.

They build pyramids within pyramids, with every successive generation of pyramids being more elaborate and decorative.

Seeing I was traveling on my own, Ricardo and Diego adopted me and we became fast friends. You'll see them in future posts!

All in all, this was a week where I felt a bit quiet, withdrawn and pensive. I was still trying to make sense of my ayahuasca experience, dealing with the nervous flutters of the first week solo, and feeling physically tired. Although everyone was friendly, and the town was pleasant, the departure from it was easy and without much fuss.

I was ready for something that was more of my taste: the mountains.

Despite warnings from travel books of it being rainy season and a bleak weather forecast, my next stop was Huaraz.

One last look at Trujillo, the next big city where there were connections to Huaraz.

What's it like to take ayahuasca? Pt 1

I kicked off my sabbatical with a two week stay at an ayahuasca center in Peru. An intense opening move, even for me, but the inspiration and logistics all lined up and provided an opportunity to start my trip on the right note.

I’m sharing everything about the experience. These two weeks were intense so I’ll be splitting up the write up across two posts. This first post is mostly objective, FAQ I often get; and the second I’ll get more into my personal experience and take away with ayahuasca.

What is ayahuasca?

Ayahuasca is a sacred beverage used for spiritual and religious purposes by Amazonian tribes. It’s brewed and distilled into a drink from leaves and plants found in the Amazon.

Man preparing ayahuasca

The plants used in making ayahuasca have hallucinogenic properties, including DMT. Overall, the drink is a powerful psychedelic that alters your state of consciousness. There has been promising studies that ayahuasca is beneficial for neurological health but more famously, psychological well-being. Similar to psychedelic mushrooms, ayahuasca is being seen as a treatment for depression and PTSD because it increases mindfulness, breaks down emotional barriers to actively treat sources of trauma, and decreases the ego to promote a higher collective sense of connectedness.

For people not part of the Amazonian culture, it’s considered a medicine for internal trauma and to re-connect with nature***.

Ayahuasca is part of a larger interest and movement in investing in your mental and emotional health, acknowledging options outside of pharma industry, taking advantage of the brain’s elasticity, and appreciating the healing nature of plants and mother earth (and acknowledging how Indigeous cultures have always had this).

Why did you take ayahuasca?

I’ve always been interested in personal development and healing, and am a huge advocate for therapy, community, and psychedelics.

Ayahuasca seems aligned in this trifecta. Unlike psychedelics, there’s a cultural and spiritual component to it. Many people have relayed their ayahuasca experience as 20 years of therapy in one night- exposing the raw nerve and peeling back the protective ego layers that are now self destructive. And, you take ayahuasca in ceremonies in tandem with others- you hear and see the purging (purging is a reference to the common vomiting and diarrhea that comes with the visual and auditory hallucinations of an ayahuascua trip), feel connected to the group en masse, and discussing your experience the day after can be an important part of healing.

You can find opportunities to take ayahuasca in urban cities, by facilitators, but I wanted the full spiritual experience of it.

Where did you take ayahuasca?

Different countries, cultures and peoples have their unique relationship to ayahuasca. I can only speak to my experience in Peru with Shipibo shamans.

I was also conscious of stories of male shamans taking advantage of the physical and emotional vulnerability of women taking ayahuasca. As a solo female traveler, I wanted to reduce the risk of danger as much as possible.

I found what I was looking for with Mai Niti, a father-daughter shaman team who had cultural and generational ties to the practice, and lots of positive reviews.

To properly set expectations, Mai Niti is definitely not a luxury wellness resort center, and for most guests, that’s not a problem. You live quite simply in the compound: bare feet is a common site, there are two shared outhouses and shower stalls, and you sleep under misquitos nets and with fans in the jungle. The containment is unpaved, trees and hammocks aplenty here, and most buildings are little wooden shacks with dried leave thatched roofs. When it rains, it pours. There are hammocks to relax in, if you don’t mind the misquitos eating you alive. There is laundry service available, but most guests tend to hand wash their clothes because it can take a while to get your clothes back.

There is infrequent and not very strong Wi-Fi, I would daresay you should behave as if there isn’t any. The power often goes out. Bring your own entertainment, although most people spend their time sleeping, reading, relaxing and recovering from the plant medicines without electronics and internet easily. I read and journaled a lot during my time here.

Mai Niti also runs primarily thanks to the help of a staff of bilingual volunteers, as Lucila speaks primarily in Spanish. The volunteer aspect provides for a lower cost of an ayahuasca experience comparatively to other centers. I truly appreciated the volunteer staff that conducted the translations, assisted in ceremony, and helped take care of guests. They are providing an incredibly selfless service.

Choosing an ayahuasca center can be incredibly personal. Take time to check-in with yourself about what kind of settings you flourish in, what’s your comfort circle, and what’re you’re looking out of your experience. Mai Niti is much more of a center of a casual and fluid nature.

What do you do in preparation for ayahuasca?

The experience starts before I even arrived at the center. I was told to observe a strict diet that abstained from salt, fat, oil, and overall flavor and the joy I usually associate with food. There are also other risks with ayahuasca that doesn’t come with other psychedelics, for example, most pharmacological medication— it can either interfere or worsen psychiatric conditions. I had to abstain from my ADD medication. It’s to prepare your body and cleanse it from any substances that could interfere or make the ayahuasca experience less intense. During your stay, the diet is strictly observed and I realized my attempt to observe the diet before my arrival was truly inadequate: we mostly ate meals of healthy, naturally flavored fruits, oats, quinoa, vegetables, soup, and grilled fish on lucky occasions. No meat, processed food, alcohol, caffeine or cold temperature food/drinks.

While it’s easy to start conversations and while the time with others, you are also recommended to focus on your healing journey and spend time alone doing so.

At Mai Niti, you’re also required to take daily plant showers or saunas. The mornings are begun with the staff on site chopping wood to make this broth for the plant shower/sauna. In a plant shower, you pour this solution over your head and make sure to wet your entire body with it. You are then to air dry, no wiping, to facilitate the plant connection with your ayahuasca ceremony later that night. A plant sauna is when they boil this solution in a pot, put underneath your legs, and you are wrapped in blankets before they remove the top.

Daily plant bath that's prepared early in the morning

On days you take ayahuasca, you stop eating at 2 pm and drinking water at 6 pm to prepare for the purging that might come.

What is the ceremony like?

All the ceremonies take place in the maloka, a circular hut with one room. Every person gets a mattress and their personal purge bucket with a portion of toilet paper for the purging.

You bring your pillows and blankets from your bedroom. Because the maloka is circular, you sit facing one another. However, the ceremony is conducted mostly in the dark so you don’t see each other the whole night, although it’s easy to pick out one another through sound.

The ceremonies start at 9 pm, and end around 2 am.

There is a small bucket of fire in the center of the room that’s briefly lit at the beginning of the night, but it’s let to go out throughout the night.

Lucila and her father conduct the ceremonies. They sit near the door. There’s usually a volunteer staff translating the beginning of the night, and any conversations guests might have as they’re being called to sit and talk to Lucila throughout the night. Lucila usually starts with opening remarks, and then she pours individual shots of ayahuasca per person, the amount varying. She and her father also take ayahuasca, and smoke specific plants to help facilitate and regulate everyone’s ayahuasca experience. They also sing icaros for the same effect.

Each person comes to Lucila to drink their portion of ayahuasca. You then return to your mattress for the remainder of the night. You are allowed to leave for the bathroom but you’re recommended to stay or keep physically close.

Throughout the night, Lucila may call you- to discuss your trip, to commend you on how you’re doing, to aid you if you’re feeling particularly in need of help. There is always one volunteer staff on hand for translations or if you need some extra help during a particularly hard ceremony.

The night passes as everyone descends into their own ayahuasca trip. It’s dark, so you will take notice of the infamous purging, the icaros, and your neighbors movements.

After the ceremonies end, Lucila and her father will return home. You can stay in the maloka if you’re too exhausted to move, or you can return to the comfort of your own bed.

The next day is usually spent recuperating and relaxing, especially since there’ll probably be another ayahuasca ceremony the day after. You also get a brief touch base with Lucila and a translator to discuss your experience the night before, and for her to answer any questions you might have.

At Mai Niti, there are ayahuasca ceremonies Monday, Wednesday, Friday. The first ceremony you only take half a regular portion, so Lucila can see how you handle the ayahuasca and the ceremony itself.

The difference between a facilitator and a shaman is that a shaman can see and experience whatever it is you’re experiencing on ayahuasca, and can help regulate the intensity of the experience. Lucila can do this for each and every person participating in the ceremony. To be a shaman usually requires years of training; for example, Lucila spent three years in isolation and took ayahuasca every day.

What does ayahuasca taste like?

Every brew of ayahuasca varies not just from shaman to shaman, but from night to night.

It presents like a thick, black sludge. The more bitter, the more I interpreted it to be stronger formula.

A serving is proximately a shot. Half a shot is easy to swallow, but a whole shot makes me personally gag and shudder it down. Psychological hesitation and memories of traumatic trips can also make the taste and experience unpleasant.

Did you only take ayahuasca at Mai Niti?

No, and in the next post I’ll go more into detail, there are countless plant medicines that are available and can treat specific conditions.

***

Unlike other counterculture treatments such as LSD and MDMA, there is a spiritual component to ayahuasca. Not only in the presentation (shaman and ceremonies) but in the essential purpose of the experience itself. Some people refer to ayahuasca as Madre Ayahuasca (mother ayahuasca), and believe Madre Ayahuasca is the same as Pachamama (the Quecha, a group of Indigenous Peruvian peoples, word for Mother Earth). The reason why she is so selfless in helping people heal from their trauma is so that they can also help heal Mother Earth from the damage human beings have done to her.