dumbass

Dumbass is the only word that sums up how I felt after I had my laptop stolen during my recent volunteer travels in Costa Rica and Panama. In my many years and hundreds of thousands of miles of travel, I have never had anything stolen. Call me lucky or call me cautious, but all things considered, I’ve managed to survive all sorts of high risk travel unscathed. (Knock on all surrounding hard surfaces, please.)

I checked into The Purple House (La Casa Morada) in David, Panama after enduring the 10 hour bus trip from San Jose, Costa Rica and tedious border crossing via Tracopa. Hot, sweaty and hungry, I high-tailed it to the nearby grocery store for snacks and a few .45 cent Balboa beers. All well was well in my world once again, as I sat outside on the patio at The Purple House, sipping an ice cold beer and Skyping my boyfriend to let him know of my safe (although not exactly swift) arrival in Panama.

When I returned to my shared dorm room (6 people, 3 bunks) around 11:30 p.m., lights were out and everyone appeared to be asleep. Not wanting to disturb other weary travelers, I opted to not lock up my laptop in the locker where my other belongings had been safely stored. Instead, I wrapped my laptop in my Hold Steady sweatshirt and placed it on the floor below my bottom bunk – mere inches below my head.

Although I was dead tired, I was woken several times throughout the night by my Guatemalan roommate, with whom I exchanged pleasantries with earlier in the evening. Although she didn’t speak a word of English, I managed to convey that I’d volunteered in her country in January, had a wonderful experience (despite doom and gloom reports on the crime situation in Guatemala City), so much so that I adopted and brought home a puppy from the animal rescue I was working at. She seemed like a sweet, twenty-something gal, until she shot up straight in bed in the middle of the night, pointing out the window, saying “Look! Look!” Over and over again. Wait a sec. Didn’t this woman tell me that she didn’t speak any English? Mildly confused, I fell back asleep.

Around 7 a.m., I awoke to this woman standing over my head, faux swatting a “cucaracha” from my head. Had I not just come from the rainforest, where your average size insect makes a cockroach look like an ant, I may have mustered more of a reaction. Instead, I rolled over and fell back to sleep. At this point, three of my dormmates had already checked out. The Guatemalan gal proceeded to make several trips to the bathroom before disappearing for good.

Semi-rested, I woke up for good around 8:30 a.m., reached my hand under my bed, only to find my sweatshirt – my laptop was missing. Immediately, the pieces of what happened came together and I rushed into the hostel lobby to speak with the owner, Andrea. She alerted me that the Guatemalan woman, who now had a name, Lisbeth Mejia, had scooted out of the hostel shortly before, three days before her intended checkout.

I felt like a moron as I realized that I screwed up by not taking one simple precaution – using a lock – a lock I was already using to protect my other valuable belongings. Andrea was gracious and understanding as could be as she suggested several possible courses of action – everything from checking the bus station for Lisbeth to calling local hostels to see if she had checked in. I opted not to file a report with the Panamanian police, as I needed to make my way to Boquete to meet some friends from Canada who were meeting me to volunteer. Volunteering seemed like a far more fun option, plus I didn’t have full confidence in my Spanish skills to convey exactly how the situation went down.

Yes, it’s a sucky feeling to have something stolen from you. But, I was partially to blame for the laptop loss by not taking proper safety precautions. Reality is that I was wielding an expensive piece of technology in a developing country. My laptop was easily worth one month’s salary in Guatemala. I may as well have been walking through David with dollar bills stapled to my body. It’s disappointing that anyone, anywhere would steal from another human being, but that’s life. Different people have different challenges, needs and means of survival. My laptop may have meant some kind of opportunity for Lisbeth, or simply another meal. I don’t know. As much as I wanted to wish the karma gods to puke carpal tunnel or the blue screen of death on the woman, I know that she has to live with her actions, pending her existence of a moral compass. My laptop, and pretty much everything else I own, is just stuff. Stuff that can be replaced. As my friend Ryan McGovern pointed out, there are much bigger problems in the world to worry about – especially right now.

So dear, Lisbeth Mejia – I hope my laptop is everything you hoped it would be. As for me, I will always use a lock to protect my “stuff.” And if you still decide to steal from me, obviously you need my “stuff” more than I do. I'll deal with it.

P.S. I booked a room at The Purple House on my outbound trip from Panama back to Costa Rica. Despite my incident (which was no fault of the hostel), I cannot recommend The Purple House enough. Andrea truly is the hostess with the mostess. Muchas gracias.

the secret garden in quito, ecuador is looking for volunteers

I didn’t know my ass from my elbow when it came to my first foray traveling in Ecuador. I booked my ticket to Quito to volunteer with Santa Martha Animal Rescue, which in a most unprofessional fashion informed me that it had folded (basically because its founder is a thin-skinned cry baby who couldn’t handle criticism from volunteers). I scrambled in a state of non-refundable airline ticket panic to find a replacement project and stumbled across Sumak Kawsay Yachay (SKY) on the internet. Plan B was in effect!

I'm usually pretty organized with my travel logistics. I do a reasonable amount of pre-travel research and create a project itinerary (partially for my benefit, but also to leave at home in case something bad happens to me). But, when it came to flying into Quito, I really didn’t have a clue. My flight arrived at 6:05 p.m., too late to embark on the 3-hour bus trip to Salasaca (As a rule, I don’t like to arrive in strange destinations after dark), so I needed a hostel. Natch, I turned to my fave word-of-mouth resource, Twitter, and got several recommendations for The Secret Garden in the San Blas neighborhood of Quito.

I shot The Secret Garden an email to make a reservation and arrange for an airport pick-up ($10 USD), which was quickly confirmed. Upon touch down in Quito (a terrifying landing I wasn’t prepared for) I made way through customs and immigration and found a driver holding a “The Secret Garden” sign. We wove up and down hilly streets during rush hour traffic and arrived at the five story hostel a little after dusk.

Check-in was a breeze and I was quickly led to my fourth floor “Orange” dorm room, bunk #5 to be exact. Dorm-style rooms tend to be on the small and cramped size (my room accommodated six people), but they’re clean, beds are reasonably comfy and there are small lockers available to store valuables. For $8.80 a night, it’s a great value. Well maintained bathroom facilities are situated in the hall and shared by several rooms. Hot water was a bit iffy – I’ve found that when it is available in South America, sometimes it helps to turn the water pressure down to the lowest possible trickle to get heat. There’s also free WiFi, three computers you can rent for .50 cents an hour and a terrace with amazing city and mountain views, where daily, three meals are served for a nominal fee. The terrace is also a popular destination to grab a few Pilseners before a night on the town (the terrace closes at 11 p.m.). The hostel can also organize day tours or Spanish classes. Even though I’m a bit older than the usual hostelling age demographic, I thoroughly enjoyed my stay at The Secret Garden. So much in fact, that I stayed there again the night before I flew out of Quito.

The Secret Garden runs on volunteers and is always looking for help. In exchange for volunteer hours, the hostel offers free accommodation, food, all drinks, 10 hours of Spanish classes and more. The hostel’s new Cotopaxi location is also looking for volunteers. Click here for more information.

peru is possible on a shoestring budget

When I embarked on a river voyage down the Amazon two years ago, nothing could have prepared me for the otherwordly beauty of Peru and its people. I was on assignment at the time, and the fine folks at International Expeditions picked up the tab for my adventure (thank you 100 times for a trip of lifetime). I’ve since returned to Peru twice in a work slash play capacity and have had to fend for myself financially. Since I like to make my travel adventures last as long as possible, when flying solo, I subscribe to a budget travel style.


Peru is perfect for travelers on a shoestring budget, and not just the backpacker hordes. Its currency is the nuevo sol (S/) and compared to other South American countries, traveling costs are low – it’s easy to survive on $20-25 USD a day. Here are seven tips to help stretch your soles.

Photo courtesy of kudumomo

Timing is Everything
Depending upon when you decide visit Peru, prices can make or break a budget. The dry winter months of June and July are peak season in Machu Picchu and prices rise accordingly (and Inca Trail reservations are scarce for last-minute planners) Tourists flock to the sun-soaked coastal regions during the summer months of December and January. The best bargains can be found during the fringe months of April and May or September and October.

Photo courtesy of Zug55

Take a Tour
Although I tend to be a DIY solo traveler, there are some sights in Peru which require a tour operator – like hiking the Inca Trail or flights over the Nazca Lines. It is, however possible to explore Peru without paying inflated prices. Karikuy, the organization I’m currently volunteering with in Lima, for example, offers a wide variety of tours throughout Peru at budget-friendly price points. They also work to promote responsible tourism, social development and give back to the people and communities of Peru. Do your homework and ask questions and you're more likely to find the perfect fit tour operator.

Photo courtesy of Ivoinperu

Get Out of Town
Lima, Cusco and Puno are Peru’s top tourist hot spots, but venture beyond these towns and prices drop significantly for budget travelers. Think about exploring Ica, Peru’s top wine-producing region on its southern coast, the colonial city of Trujillo and its sunny beaches or hiking in the highland town of Huaraz, near the Cordillera Blanca Mountains.

Cheap Sleeps
Prices for accommodations in Peru vary from dirt-cheap, backpacker hostels to luxury boutique hotels. My head has hit the pillow at every price range in Peru, but when I’m traveling on my own dime (a.k.a. not on assignment), I’ve found several decent mid-range hotel deals. In Cusco, I highly recommend Hotel Rumi Punku (around $50 a night during peak season). It’s a family run, 2-star hostel within three (steep) blocks of Plaza de Armas. Hotel Rumi Punku is safe for the solo female traveler, clean and has free Wi-Fi and continental breakfast daily. Another Cusco property I’m excited about is the just opened, Yamanyá Backpackers Hostel. They had me at heated stone swimming pool and poolside bar, but more practical travelers will probably like their free breakfast, Wi-Fi, airport or bus-stop pickup, TV room with high-definition LCD, huge guest kitchen, comfortable beds and hot, hot water.

Photo courtesy of Muy Yum

Eat Like a Local
As a rule, I try to steer clear of restaurantes turistica. They’re easily identified by oversized menus or chalkboards posted by the entryway with English translations and seats filled with folks who don’t quite look like the locals. Sure, there’s comforting about pointing to a menu item and knowing roughly what you’re getting in a land of language barriers. But I pinky swear promise that if you put the tiniest bit of effort into dining at a non-touristy destination, nine times out of ten, you’ll reap the benefits of lower prices and far superior food.

Imbibe
The name brand liquors you know and love at home are pricey in Peru. For example, a pour of Johnny Walker will run 20 soles – or about $7 USD. That may not seem outrageous by US standards, but if you’re imbibing on a budget in Peru, you can make your bar-hopping dollars stretch much further with a few smart choice. If you insist on drinking cocktails, swap your spirit of choice for a pisco-based beverage. Pisco is a South American liquor distilled from grapes, and cocktails tend run about half the price of American cocktail counterparts. Plus, Pisco packs quite a high octane punch. If you’re really cash-strapped, stick to local beer brands like Cristal, Pilsen Callao or Cusqueña, which rarely cost more than the equivalent of $2 USD.

Photo courtesy of ChrissyJ

Souvenirs
It’s hard to travel pretty much anywhere and not want to take some tsotchkes home, especially in Peru. There are a few basic rules of the retail road that will help you get the best deal. Avoid buying souvenirs near bus stops, where prices tend to be higher. Be sure to bargain – the price on the tag is rarely the final price. Have a maximum price you’re willing to pay in mind and don't be tricked by discounts for multiple purchases. Also, keep in mind that souvenir prices at the airport can triple, so if you see something you can’t live without, grab it. Last minute buyer’s remorse is no fun.

There are a lot of great goodies to take home from Peru, but it’s best known for:

• Baby alpaca woven goods, not just sweaters, but rugs and wall hangings (be sure to check the label – many products incorporate acrylic)
• Silver jewelry with enamel and gemstones, many with Incan and Peruvian imagery
• Pisco, the national drink of Peru
• Small embroidered purses made out of manta cloth
• Chullos (woolen hats with the earflaps)
• Huayruru seed jewelry and keychains – this seed is found in the Amazon and is red with a black spot

Since I’ve helped save you all sorts of money in your travels to Peru with this nifty blog post, be sure to pick up a little something for me. Or send a postcard. I swoon for handwritten mail.