I was supposed to be in Bolivia today. Cycling down Death Road at breakneck speeds or taking Insta-worthy photos in the salt flats that are just a day’s drive from Laz Paz.
I’m supposed to be doing something epic and #yolo worthy today.
That was the plan anyway, when I booked this trip what seems like a lifetime ago.
Instead, I’ve been inside all day just working and writing. For the 3rd day in a row.
What’s the saying about making plans and God laughing?
The original plan, the plan I concocted when I was sitting at home in Sweden pining for a trip abroad, was to spend a week in Cusco before taking a week off to hike the Salkantay and Inca Trail to Machu Picchu with Christine, my sister, and her boyfriend.
After the hike, my travel friends would head home, leaving me with two weeks of long-overdue solo travel.
Those two weeks were going to be spent in Bolivia doing all sorts of fun stuff (in between working my day job, of course). Living that backpacker life, as it were.
That didn’t exactly work out, and I’m now sitting pretty in a weird hostel in Puno, Peru, biding my time before I fly back to Sweden…via Lima, El Salvador, Toronto, and New York (it’s going to be a long few days I think).
So, what happened?
Well, after 7 days off the grid hiking one of the most challenging hikes I’ve ever done (it didn’t help that I didn’t train for it) I wasn’t really in the mood to travel more. I wanted to rest and relax and catch up on all the things my brain had been pondering during the 7 days off the grid.
I also caught a cold after our hike, a cold that I still have almost a week later. That’s not helping me stay pumped for those #yolo adventures.
But also, I’ve been on the road for 2 months. Bouncing around on night buses just isn’t appealing to me at the moment.
Instead of taking the bus to Bolivia, I left Cusco and came to Puno for no reason whatsoever. There isn’t anything here I planned to do. I don’t even know what there is to do here. I just came because I wanted somewhere quiet to rest and relax and collect my thoughts.
That’s what I’ve been doing for the past few days.
I’ve had a hostel dorm mostly to myself, which is not exactly #yolo level of awesome but it is still pretty nice.
I’ve gotten some writing done.
I’ve caught up on sleep.
I’ve eaten some weird vegan food and tons of salty plantain chips.
I’ve done dick all, as my dear mom might say.
And that’s fine.
Sure, I had hoped to be capturing some sweet ass footage of my rocketing down Death Road. But things change.
A part of me feels bad for “wasting” my time here. A lot of people would kill for the opportunity to travel, and here I am just twiddling my thumbs as I crunch hours on my laptop for work.
A part of me wants to chide myself for taking the easy way out and just relaxing.
This is quite possibly the only time I’ll be in the region. Shouldn’t I make the most of it?
All I know is that I’m not going to Bolivia this week. And I’m ok with that.
P.S. - Did you know I wrote a book? It’s pretty decent too! Learn more and grab a copy today!