R & R vs The World

It’s 7am. I am up, eating a banana, & trying to mentally prepare for packing my bag for the last time & going home. HOME! Back to England. The adventure has come to an end.

Yesterday was spent sunbathing unashamedly in the Bosques de Palermo, aka a huge tree-filled beautiful park, topping up my tan so its at its darkest & most jealousy-inducing before I go home. I returned to the hostel & set myself up with my sketchbook in the common room, foreseeing a chill evening of painting when my very sketchbook drew the interest of a sweet German girl called Anika, who struck up a conversation then invited me onto the rooftop to watch the sunset with her friends Iris, Jan & Hagen; & what followed what one of genuinely the loveliest evenings I have had on this whole trip. Anika, Jan, Iris & Hagen we so sweet, fun & interesting - we bonded over funky music & shared experiences of travelling disasters, they generously shared a bottle of Argentinian wine with me (& some weird mint liquor called Fernet, apparently an Argentinian traditional drink, which I assumed from smell & colour would be disgusting but was actually delicious), &  we sat around singing & drinking & laughing until much too late. Through their stories, & their lovely company, they reminded me of my favourite thing about travelling: meeting people. Meeting people that you, right off the bat, know you have this one big thing in common with. Helping other travellers in any way you can, being warm, & open, & friendly. Although part of me wishes I had met them sooner, in a way last night - my LAST night - was the perfect time for them to come into my journey. To fill my mind & my heart with warmth & good memories & reminders of how incredible travelling can be if you meet the right people, just before I go home. It was the ultimate good note to leave things on.

Now all that remains is for me to pack, stock up on some pouches of dulce de leche & uber my way to the airport where I shall see myself off in style with a huge steak for lunch before I board my plane to Barcelona. There will be an epilogue to this journal - once I’ve got home & have had a short time to reflect - it’s too much to think about now. I’m a whirlwind of excitement & sadness & I need to focus on packing & sorting myself out. So for now: that’s it from R&R vs The World, from Little Ruth vs The Americas. Over & Out. 

I’m such an overwhelming mixed bag of emotions right now that I felt it would be a good time to write. Writing has proved so cathartic & therapeutic to me during this trip - to the extent that I think I will continue keeping some kind of journal, online or otherwise, when I get back - so whenever I am feeling feelings that I’m struggling to understand it helps me make sense of them as I try & unravel them into words.

This is it, basically. I have one day left in Buenos Aires, one day left of travelling, of my Big Adventure... & then off I go, back home. Back to England. I feel pretty weird about it. One the one hand: I’m super excited. I can;t wait to see my friends & family, catch up with everyone. But there’s a lot of other stuff going on as well. I really like this city & I’m sad to leave it - I’ve had fun here but can’t help but think I could - & would - potentially have had more fun if I’d had more money, which is a bummer but not the end of the world. It’s weird; I feel so many opposing things. Happy, scared, excited, sad, like I’ve had the most amazing adventure but also like I’ve failed in some way that I can’t quite put my finger on, like I’ve had some of the best times of my life but also that some of the worst things that have ever happened to me have occurred on this trip too. What would have happened if I’d never left? What would have happened if I’d gone to Australia & worked for a year? Would I have found love? Have I missed out on things? What’s going to happen when I get back?

The likelihood is that my life - save for a change of location - will fall back into a very similar place that it was when I left, except that my friends’ lives will have moved on around my absence.I also can’t ignore the fact that I wanted this trip to signify the closing of one chapter of my life & the subsequent opening of a new one; & yet the time has come to accept that that potentially is not the case. I am going back to the same job role, in the same company; still single, still broke, no major changes. I’m worried that in a few months that this trip will seem like a dream, like it barely even happened. Just a collection of stories that I repeat over & over to anyone who asks as they slowly lose any sense of being real.

How will I even go about describing this trip? It feels almost too precious to be shared, like a new relationship you are scared of destroying if you let all your outer-circle acquaintances in on it. Simultaneously, I can’t explain this journey in any kind of true way to people who are merely outer-circle acquaintances. “It was amazing!” neither does it justice nor is true. Yes, it HAS been amazing; but it’s been a lot of other things as well. Exhausting. Mentally draining. The setting of some extremely low points & depression. A series of realisations, good & bad. I want so desperately to start fresh, somewhere new, where there’s no expectation to tell anyone anything, but at the same time I’m really looking forward to telling everyone what I’ve been up to. But where do I even start?

I’m thirty fucking one. THIRTY ONE. I know I shouldn’t but I feel so old. In my mind I’d been thinking of this as my last hurrah before I settle down. Which obviously is a bonkers idea as who am I meant to be settling down with. I can;t help but feel a little bit that by making my own timeline - starting uni late, going on a gap year at 30 - that I’ve fucked up some monumental schedule of progress that everyone else my age seems to have nailed. That I’m still living my life like a teenager & maybe I shouldn’t be. And THEN my brain gets all defensive & empowered & starts yelling “but why shouldn’t I make up my own rules & live life my own way? Who says I can;t go on a gap year at 30?” Fuck. I’m confused & consumed by an overwhelming sadness, sad to be leaving, emotional at the thought of seeing the people I love & explaining, everything coming pouring out. Scared to talk about certain things. Things that I know need talking about.

I’m going to chalk all of this up to just plain emotional rollercoaster-ness: going home after such a long time is exciting but also signals the end of something which has been, for better or worse, monumental. The fact that I have undertaken this trip feels to me like the leap over such a ginormous hurdle - for context, my anxiety is such that I feel every small interaction in a shop in Spanish is an act of survival. When I think about this the fact that I have just travelled through several continents for almost a year - including two months completely on my own - boggles my mind. But I’ve pulled it off. Sure, I didn’t last quite as long as I hoped I would, but I still did it. I am clinging to this thought like the only raft in a stormy sea. Trying, as always, to focus on the positives.

Buenos Aires has changed me; after feeling lost & depressed in Santa Cruz I now feel very relaxed & happy; partly due to my imminent return home but partly also to my friend Olga, who I met & hung out with briefly in Iguacu in Brazil & who, it turns out, is the sweetest, kindest, warmest person of all time & has gone to so much effort to show me around & make me feel welcome that I’m starting to feel like I don’t actually want to leave.

My first full day involved me taking a long walk to the Japanese Gardens, through the delightful neighbourhood of Palermo where I am staying - all cute cafes, trendy bars & restaurants, grocery stores with wooden crates stacked outside, pleasing architecture reminiscent of Brooklyn (tall, ‘brownstone’ style buildings adorned with balconies trailing plants), then through a huge, beautiful tree-filled park. The Jardin Japones is a tranquil oasis in an otherwise bustling city. Little red pagodas, koi carp pools, bonzai trees & lilypads. So beautiful! I spent a wonderful few hours there drawing & relaxing in the sun.

I messaged Olga on the off-chance that she might have a small window of time free during the week & she responded with so much joy that you might have thought I was an old friend. Straightaway she invited me out for some beers that evening & took me to Little Bar, a cosy hipster nook with guitar necks for beers pumps & bascally refused to let me pay for anything, feeding me beer & nachos & empanadas all evening. Yesterday she took me to the Museo de Bellas Artes to see the Rodin & Miro exhibitions, then for a wander in Recoleta (a nice area famed for its Parisian-style architecture & general pleasantness) to look at the giant Floralis Generica (a metal sculpture of a flower that opens & closes during the day) & today she’s taking me to another cool neighbourhood, San Telmo, for steaks (I insisted; I can’t leave Argentina without trying a steak). Her parents are visiting her this weekend so I’ll be left to my own devices after today, but she is so bubbly & kind & fun she has already left a wonderful stamp on my time here.

I like it here, a lot. Funny how right at the end of my trip I have found another place that I can see myself living in. I love big cities & this is a particularly great one. When I arrived at my hostel in a cab I did a little ‘welp’ because the area we were driving through reminded me so much of Hyde Park that I got a little pang of homesickness mingled with excitement that I will be back there soon. But the city itself reminds me much more of New York, Brooklyn in particular: the architecture, the wide, straight streets, the trendy boutiques & little kioscos tucked in, people on bikes, street art. Lots of the shop fronts & little newspaper stands are decorated with hand-painted, fairground-style lettering which makes me feel a little like I’ve stepped back in time. 

Well. Much has changed since my last post/return to Santa Cruz. George transpired to be a complete tool & utter scumbag douche & thus I am now alone again, basically hiding out at the hostel & biding my time until my flight home via my brief stint in Buenos Aires.

Thankfully, the hostel itself is extremely nice - a beautiful, peaceful old building with a nice terrace & a mezzanine (the dream!) with nice owners who made me feel much better upon my arrival in a state of emotional distress. I met a cool Canadian couple, a nice pair of Argentinian chicks & a guy from Brighton who all seem to spend quite a lot of time just hanging here so I’m not lonely, in fact quite happy just chilling. My daily routine involves yoga, drawing, reading (currently on an excellent book called The Goldfinch), watching episodes of Black Mirror & sunbathing in the garden. There is basically no reason whatsoever for me to leave the house which is great as I don’t want to run the risk of bumping into George.

I have one more full day here whereby I plan on doing all the same activities as listed above before moving to Buenos Aires to repeat the same there. Thankfully the Argentinian girls gave me a good list of stuff to do for free in BA so I’m gonna try & work in some museum visits etc but otherwise will be quite happy just hanging out - I’m trying to make the most of relaxing in the sun before I head back to my beloved grey depressing rock. Must achieve peak tan in order to provoke the jealousy of my loved ones. 

I’m glad I got to do some cool trips & tours in Bolivia but if I’m honest I think I’m completely adventured out. After everything that has happened to me - in particular this most recent unpleasantness which has shaken me to my very core as I was only just beginning to get my confidence back - I feel reluctant to leave the hostel by myself, am shit at socialising & tbh just want to be left alone with my kindle & laptop & sketchbook to relax & not talk to anyone. Soon I will be home with people I can trust & make me feel safe & I will start to return from within the reclusive shell in which I am currently living.

I am happy to report that I had the most wonderful birthday; encompassing  three day trip to the Amazon wetlands with my pal George who I bumped into quite by chance in Uyuni. Despite being basically a stranger he went out of his way to ensure I had a super great day; buying me a massive slab of birthday cake for breakfast, getting everyone to sing me happy birthday (twice) & treating us to a bottle of wine to share with dinner. 

Our trip began with a smooth hour long flight on the world’s tiniest plane to Rurrenabaque in the north of Bolivia - a small rural town tucked into the edge of the Amazon jungle. We touched down in a very basic airport & were transported via jeep along two hours of dusty roads before reaching the starting point on the Yacuma river, a small tributary of the Amazon that snakes its way through the wetlands. We journeyed by boat for an hour or so to our lodgings for the next three days - a little collection of huts on stilts literally in the river, surrounded by jungle & all its wildlife: crocodiles & caiman swam below, monkeys & tree snakes & toucans & macaws in the trees above. It was such a beautiful place; despite supposedly being the rainy season the sun beat down on us for three straight days & we spent large portions of time relaxing on the deck, looking out over the river & the trees in dappled sunlight, feeling like the luckiest people. On our way to the lodge our awesome guide, Juan Carlos, pointed out turtles & capuchin monkeys along the way; pulling the boat up close to a thicket of trees so we could get a better look at the monkeys who then proceeded to board our boat & climb all over us trying to steal our sunglasses & search for any snacks we might have. Monkeys are super soft & cute & friendly with obviously no fear of us whatsoever. Their hands & feet felt like little baby hands & feet. It was a surreal & wonderful experience.

The evening comprised watching a sunset at Juan Carlos’ house; a similar hut on stilts backing onto a beautiful big meadow, where capybaras lurked in the long grass. We went in search of alligators on the way back with flashlights. Their eyes glowed orange in the beams.

The next day we trooped through the marshes in welly boots in search of anacondas & found one, just shy of two metres long. It was quite spectacular to see up close. Thick & ropey & beautifully patterned. I couldn’t help but wonder at all the other anacondas, & indeed thousands of other creatures, hiding away in this vast expanse of wild land. 

The afternoon was spent swimming with pink rover dolphins, which was such a wonderful experience I can hardly describe it. We climbed back into our boat - our only mode of transport as river rats - & made our way to essentially a natural swimming pool: a large expanse of river where it connects to some smaller streams in a big pool. This, we were told by the super informative Juan Carlos, who has lived in the wetlands all his life, was where the dolphins go for their recreation time, much as we might enjoy a Saturday afternoon at a swimming pool also. Dolphins are very playful & friendly creatures & swam right up next to us as we splashed around in the water. River dolphins look very different to sea dolphins: much longer snouts & much shorter find, enabling them to dig & rummage in the river grass for food, properly burrow in to find snacks. They are also pink, somehow due to what they eat. It was truly magical.

On our last day we went piranha fishing. I failed to catch anything & realised in the process that fishing, being as it is a sport that requires much patience for very little reward, is not for me. I spent my time sunbathing on the boat watching everyone else attempt to hook a piranha. Everyone except Juan Carlos failed, who caught five, although George did manage to snag himself a rather impressive dogfish - it was really quite endearing how happy & proud he was of his catch. The piranhas were too sneaky for me - they kept eating the bait but refused to be reeled in. We then transported the fish back to the lodge where they were fried & eaten - from river to plate in less than 30 minutes, the freshest fish I’ve ever eaten! We ate so, so well on this trip - heaps of delicious fresh fruit & vegetables, we basked in sunshine & truly got back to nature, it was an incredible experience & an unforgettable way to turn 31. 

I’m now in La Paz, a jungle in its own way: huge, dirty, bustling, overwhelming. Cami & Catherine (who I met in Sucre) are here which is great; today we spent a winderful day trawling markets, visiting the wonderful museum of musical instruments & watching the Cholitas wrestling, which is similar to Mexican Lucha Libre except the wrestlers are predominantly old Bolivian women in traditional dress, which, it transpires, is really quite a spectacle. Cami & Cat sweetly treated me to a birthday dinner last night - they really are so, so lovely & between them & George I feel like I have a solid crew of thoughtful, supportive friends who despite my still somewhat fragile mindset are really making my last bit of time here wonderful. I’m not sure I’m a fan of La Paz; its so busy I’m finding it quite overwhelming & in any case the weather is far too shite to spend a week with no money, & so on Tuesday I’m travelling back to Santa Cruz, where its hot & sunny & I can happily laze away my last week in Bolivia in the sunshine. I am really quite happy doing nothing when the weather is nice; just sitting around drawing & tanning & relaxing & soaking up as much vitamin D as I can before returning to the cold grey streets of the UK. Happily George will be in Santa Cruz too so at least I’ll have a buddy there.

It’s been three incredible days in Uyuni; marvellous sights, wonderful people & a lot of realisations. Travelling alone means a lot of time for your own thoughts, to think & reflect; in a lot, in fact pretty much all ways, I think I prefer it. There are times obviously that I feel a little lonely but I felt lonely before so it’s not really that different in that respect.

Our journey began in the back of a jeep; just me, a lovely English couple & essentially the Chilean version of my family (more on them later), cruising through the dusty sands to the Cemeterio de Trenes, a desolate landscape spookily filled with rusted old trains that have been sent there to die; impotent, rusting, surplus to requirements. The sky was a brilliant blue yet there was an eerie air to the place. We clambered about, in & out the old engines & carriages. It was cool but would have also made an excellent setting for a ghost story or horror movie of some kind.

Next we cruised further into the desert until we reached the famous salt flats. During this trip I thought I had seen every possible landscape - from beaches to mountains to lagoons to volcanoes to rainforests - but I have never seen anything like this. It was so flat & vast, just white, like snow, but warm. This giant sky. Everything was blue & white. It was like being inside a humongous snow globe. We messed around taking silly photos, exploiting the flatness of the landscape to force perspective - making toy dinosaurs look giant & like they were chasing us, transforming Luna the tiny llama into a normal sized llama that I could pat. Also a lot of just wandering around, gazing at the endless sky, feeling minuscule & insignificant in the grand scheme of things, which sounds depressing but really isn’t. Like the realisation that, to quote one of my favourite songs, “I am just a speck of dust inside a giant’s eye”, that you are but a grain of sand on the landscape of humanity; think about all the people that have come before you & all the people that will come after. It was humbling & magical but NOTHING compared with what came next.

The highlight of my entire trip thus far: sunset over the salt flats. We drove through the barren salty landscape for about another hour until we arrived at a part that was flooded; this is why you should visit the salt flats during rainy season, because the salt & the flatness & the floodwater creates what can only be described as the worlds largest mirror. In front of us, a neat row of mountains, in every other direction: sky. Just sky. Imagine the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen, reflected for miles & miles, as far as you can see; nothing on the horizon but pink clouds & blue sky, like you’re floating in space, in the heavens. I have never experienced anything I would - or could - describe as divine before this moment, but in this instance, standing alone & silent in this vast, un-ending dome of clouds & sky & colour, I felt truly the presence of - & I am loathe to use the word ‘God’ so instead I will borrow from the Incans & say ‘Pachamama’ (spirit of the universe). It was an incredible time, truly special, & I will never forget the feeling I felt right then: of being tiny, of being alone (in a good way), of being gifted this wonderful sight, like I was the luckiest person in the world. Tranquil. Grateful. Awed. Like the main character in American Beauty describing all the beauty in the world & that at times it’s so overwhelming that you feel incapable of containing it & you may burst. I had to choke back tears. I truly felt like I wasn’t able to take it in, & that I was taking it in too much at the same time, like every feeling I’ve ever had was bubbling up inside me at that moment. I will never, ever forget it.

The night was spent at the Salt Hotel, which, exactly as the name suggests, is a hostel made entirely of salt: salt bricks, salt floor, you get the idea. The Chileans taught us a very fun card game called Carioca which we played until far too late. The next day we cruised through the desert for hours, checking out many lagoons filled with native flamingos, wading about & pecking at things in the water. As an animal lover this was another real highlight for me, to see these beautiful creatures up close & in their natural habitat. Our final stop of the day was the Laguna Colorada, a huge lake that’s bright red & surrounded by mountains. The night was spent in a very basic desert hostel, where we were forced into bed at 9.30 due to the electricty being turned off & us being plunged into darkness. I decided, as is my wont, to go for my pre-bed cigarette & I am truly glad that I did because I looked up & saw more stars than I even knew existed. The entire milky way, twinkling away above me. All the constellations alight with perfect clarity. Big, bright stars, tiny, faint stars. The entire jet black dome of the night sky strewn with potential wishes.

The third & final day of this trip involved a very early start & visit to some natural geysers, which were beautiful in a surreal way as long as you ignored the unbearably eggy sulphuric smell. The geysers looked like cloud machines, pumping fluffy mist out of swampy holes in the ground. Very prehistoric, land before time vibes. It’s hard to remember that places like this still exist when you spend your life in a sprawling cosmopolitan metropolis. After this we went to bathe in some natural hot springs with the high morning sun on our faces, which felt glorious & very at one with nature-y. Then it was a long hot bumpy jeep cruise through the desert to drop off Jess & Pete at the Chilean border as they ventured west before myself & the lovely Chilean family went back to Uyuni.

Ah yes, the Chilean family. Paula, Simon & Josefina. I have never before met a family that so closely echoes my own family dynamic; the thoughtful, confident older brother that despite teasing obviously really had his little sisters back; the younger sister, loud, lover of singing & dancing & making fun of her bro, & the delightful mum; silly, fun, loving, with an adventurous spirit. I suffered a flu during this trip & Paula took such good care of me, giving me tablets & even rubbing vicks into my back; I felt like her overgrown surrogate child for three days. It was lovely to be part of such a wonderful family dynamic, but made me realise more than ever how much I miss my own mum & brother & I just can’t wait to see them when I get back. Much like my time in Sucre, which was made awesome by the people I met (despite the fact that I did very little when I was there), any experience is really only as fun as the people you experience it with. You could clean toilets for 8 hours but if you’re doing it with someone who cares about you & makes you laugh you’ll have a good time. This has been my most resounding life lesson of my travels. People make life worth living. Good people. You must surround yourself with them; never let them go, & never let them go a day without making sure they know you care & are there for them.

Sometimes you have to feel your absolute worst before you can start to rebuild & pick yourself up again. I am happy to report that that seems to be what is happening. After feeling more miserable than I have in a long time & making the decision to come home, I feel a weight has been lifted; it is easier, now that the end is in sight, to feel more positive about the rest of my trip.

My days in Santa Cruz passed uneventfully but were bathed in glorious sunshine & did involve bumping into a nice Scottish dude who I have met a couple of other times on this trip. He relayed me with tales of his trip to the Amazon, to whit, I have decided to squeeze that in too as my money is going really far here in Bolivia & I don;t need to save too much for Buenos Aires as I will now only be there for 4 full days & have been offered a free place to stay by lovely Olga who I met in Brazil. I’m determined to end this trip on a good note & I really wanted to visit the Amazon; I have just enough time & cash so I’m going to do it!

I arrived in Sucre this morning & it is very pretty; my hostel is lovely & I spent a very pleasant day painting in the sun, running in a beautiful park (& admiring its musical fountain), & arranging my bus to Uyuni. I feel very comforted when everything goes according to plan. I have also received an outpouring of support from my pals back home in my hour of need. You really do realise who your real friends are when the chips are down. Most touching of these was a very long & heartfelt message from my friend Suzie, who despite my rubbishness at keeping in touch with her since graduation really reached out with a very sweet message about her experiences of travelling with anxiety which honestly almost brought me to tears, it was so sweet & thoughtful & also very accurate re how I have been feeling. Thanks to her kind words, & the support of my family & other friends, I’m finally starting to see that feeling lonely & homesick & struggling with travelling is not a failing on my part; as Suzie put it “travelling is hard, that’s why not everyone does it.” It’s true. Most people like holidays: staying in nice Airbnb’s, not living out of a bag for months on end, or having to budget, or learn another language, or traverse whole countries on shitty buses. It’s not for everyone & the time I have spent & the things I have faced must be seen as an achievement. It’s my nature to focus on the things I have failed at & not remind myself of the things I have succeeded at - but I have faced a lot of fears on this trip, & maybe I haven;t conquered them, but I’ve certainly chipped away at them. This should not be sniffed at. 8/9 months is a long time, especially for my first trip, & I am starting to let a little pride back in as opposed to just feeling sad & useless. It’s a constant battle for positivity in my head but I’m working on it.

When you have been feeling depressed small gestures can also make a big difference. Case in point: some lovely hostel gals (some of them are staying in my room) - Remy & Nina from Holland; Cammy from Germany & Catherine from the States - invited me to eat dinner with them & cooked for me a delicious ratatouille pasta dish. It was so sweet & kind & I had a really nice time eating with them; they are all so bubbly & fun. I feel less alone. Even if I’m not doing sociable stuff all the time it really helps when people are nice to me, especially as in my current head-state I’m finding it quite hard to ‘make the first move’. I’m so grateful for outgoing people making nice gestures. 

Today I have made the difficult decision to cancel my flight to Australia & instead fly home from Buenos Aires. I feel like a useless failure but enough is enough. I don’t have enough money to do anything interesting, would barely make it to Australia & in any case no longer have anyone to do anything interesting with anyway.

My apologies to anyone reading this if this sounds overly self-pitying or melodramatic - I am just trying, as I have throughout this blog, to be as honest as possible. I have simply been away too long & miss home & my family & I don’t want to be here anymore. Being alone in an unfamiliar country sucks big time. I feel empty & lonely & sad & more than anything I just want it to be over.

There have been some fantastic times on this trip but it has simultaneously been the setting for the darkest feelings I have experienced in a long time. From feeling uncomfortable for months on end, to sexual assault & attempted muggings at gunpoint the dream is officially over. The things I have wanted to do have been done & I have now realised that if I do ever decide to travel again it will be for a much shorter time frame & with somebody else. I’m not cut out for solo travelling any more than I am cut out to be away for this long. 

My last excursion will be to the Uyuni Salt Flats & then I will fly home from Buenos Aires. I am just awaiting word form the airline re my cancellation & I’m gonna go ahead & book it. The thought of being back at home fills me with relief, which to me says that it is the right decision. I want more than anything to just spend time with my mum & brother, go to the doctor & get back to normal life & routine. Maybe that sounds boring to some but that’s what I want. I’m honestly past caring what anyone else thinks. This trip was for me in the first place & if I’m not enjoying it what is the point? 

So yesterday entailed something of an epic fail as I walked for two long sweaty hours in 35 degree heat to an art gallery that despite all its very promising signage transpired to be closed. I was most unimpressed, sweat seeping through my t-shirt, feet swollen & sore from the walk, legs aching from a sunset run along the riverbank the day before (beautiful). So to appease myself I walked round the corner to a big beautiful park where I spent a very pleasant couple of hours admiring the plants & drawing. I gave in after about half an hour of the return walk & gt a taxi, then kicked myself as taxis here are insanely cheap (£1.50 for a half hour drive) & involved cool wind blowing onto my face through the open window as opposed to literally dripping moisture all over the pavement. Not my most successful quest all in all but some highlights.

When I returned to the hostel I met a cool English couple who I played cards with & who adopted me for the day today for a little road trip to the tiny lakeside town of Aregua; famed for its production of ceramics & its ginormous lake. It was another searingly hot day & while sitting on the jetty started chatting to some very friendly middle-aged German ex-pats now living in Aregua who invited us to their house for some goulash. They turned out to be the most delightful & hospitable folks who fed us a tasty lunch & coffee & introduced us to their Spanish-speaking parrot before dropping us back off at the bus stop, insisting we return to their house if our bus never showed up. 

On our return to Asuncion we bought a fine selection of groceries & cooked up a sumptuous barbecue in the hostel this evening. It was lovely & involved chatting to some more nice hostel people which is always cool. However I am finding myself in a weird mood, socialising-wise. I was so scared to be lonely after I was left alone but actually I quite want just the freedom to do my own thing, get into a pleasant routine & work on my sketchbook without feeling self-conscious that everyone else secretly thinks I’m super boring. I obviously like to be sociable & meeting people is one of the very best things about travelling - however after spending 6 months day in day out with one person (whose company ended up making me feel a bit shit about myself) I’ve become wary & also enjoy being on my own more than I would have done a few months ago. In all honesty my self-confidence is pretty low right now & I just don’t have the energy to be my most fun & sparkly self, so feel it more wise just to fly solo because I’m just going through quite a quiet phase. Various things that have happened on this trip - some very recent, including the incident the other day here in Asuncion in broad daylight where a strange & random dude tried to convince me to get into his car - have left me feeling scared & sad & like hiding away & not talking to anyone. 

I’m just trying to build up some inner peace so I’m in a good frame of mind to enjoy the last of my trip on my own terms. I have my own methods for achieving inner calm & they’re not necessarily very sociable; getting up super early to do exercise & working on my sketchbook for long periods of time & just doing simple things like wandering about in the sunshine taking interesting photos are perhaps not very exciting for most people but that’s what makes me feel relaxed & good. Fuck it. I’m in charge now & if that’s what I want to do then that’s what I’m going to do. 

Well despite doing next to nothing my last day in Brazil turned out to be somewhat eventful as I got attempted-mugged by a guy with a gun in the street in the middle of the day. There I was, just strolling to the shop to buy a sandwich, when a shifty-lookin’ dude doubles back on his bike, stops in front of me, grabs a gun in his waistband, gives me the crazy eyes & starts yelling at me in Portuguese. Despite everything I have always been taught about surrendering your possessions right away as they’re not worth getting hurt over, in a split second I looked from his face to his gun & back again before turning & running FULL PELT IN FUCKING FLIP FLOPS yelling “AYUDA AYUDA” as loud as I could. A man came out of his house & asked what was up. I was shaking violently & hyperventilating. He seemed very concerned. A woman drove up in her car & between the two of them managed to figure out what had happened, bundled me into the car & drove me around until we found some police. They pulled them over & so began the search. After much circling we drove back past them & they had the guy in the back of the car! I had to identify him through the window - very uncomfortable - & then the English-speaking tourist police were summoned, at which point it was explained to me that when searched they had found nothing on him & as such could do nothing.  When the guy had stopped me he had been wearing a shirt that had also mysteriously vanished so my guess is that there is a gun wrapped in a shirt stashed somewhere in the undergrowth of one of the otherwise peaceful Foz do Iguacu streets. I was then dropped back off at the hostel by a handsome Brazilian policeman. Too scared to venture out again on my own I spent the rest of the day very hungry, lying on a sunlounger in the hostel garden trying to forget what had happened.

More eager than ever to make tracks & begin anew in a fresh location, at long last my journey to Paraguay began at 11pm when I made my way to the bus station. Twenty minutes later I was crossing the border, & 6 hours later was dropped off in the capital, Asuncion - back in the land of Spanish, people I understand (vaguely) & who hopefully don’t want to mug me. I arrived to my hostel super early & was greeted by the most welcoming man, who explained that my bed wasn’t ready (unsurprisingly at 6.30am when check-in isn’t until midday) but gave me breakfast (fruit & dulce de leche in the shade of a  blossom tree, peacefully alone in the morning sun) & showed me to a pleasant upsatirs living room with a stretch-out sofa where I intermittently napped & watched movies until late morning. After I had unpacked & showered I ventured out. 

At the end of our street is the Paraguay river which is wide & bright & very beautiful in the sunshine with a backdrop of dazzling blue sky. Sitting on the bank is the Palacio de los Lopez, a Wes Anderson-esque symmetrical palace resplendent in pastel shades of peach & cream. I admired the street art & browsed some local boutiques before heading east to the Mercado Cuatro, a Morrocan souk-like winding market selling everything from counterfeit designer goods to budget makeup & silver jewellery, cheap shoes & herbal remedies peddled & macerated in front of you by wizened old Paraguain ladies at the roadside. It was loud & bustling & filled with sweet perfume scent mingled with the heady aroma of incense & a very interesting place to wander through & grab the odd bargain.

I made myself an itinerary for the next 4 days as my time here is limited - it looks like I’m in for half a week of tropical rain but that doesn’t really bother me; it’ll help break the searing heat & my hair looks constantly shit from the humidity anyway. I’ve got some art galleries, architecture, nice parks & museums & a spot for purportedly the best coffee in the city on my list. I’m gonna take it nice & chilled, just how I like it: rising early for yoga & breakfast, plenty of time to shower & sort myself out before going out in the afternoon to return home early evening for art & writing time. If only someone would pay me to do this for a living! Relaxed productivity is 100% my preferred way to spend my time. 

It’s been two days into my solo travel experience. So far travel has not played a big part but sitting in front of my laptop trying to figure out how to get where I want to go has features heavily.

I have discovered there is a kind of calm attached to having complete autonomy over your plans & your days. Yesterday I got up when I wanted without having to ask what someone else felt like doing that day. I sunbathed for four hours in the sweltering heat. I took 3 showers. Three! I cooked for myself, worked on my sketchbook, did some yoga, hung out with a dude from the hostel, chatted to my new room-mates. 

I made some plans, & although thanks to a lack of buses I am going to be stuck here longer than I wanted I have decided to head to Asuncion, the capital of Paraguay, for 5 days. The weather will be lovely & it seems an interesting & under-visited place where everything is reportedly very cheap.

There’s a lot of glorious nature to behold in this area. On our last day as a threesome we took a daytrip to the Argentinian side of the falls - an even more spectacular marvel than the Brazilian side.

The Argentinian side of the national park is host to 80% of the more than 200 waterfalls, as well as an insane amount of wild creatures. On our day there, we saw monkeys - and one hilarious moment where a monkey literally ran up to Hannah & stole her banana - more coatis than I could count; a turtle, a large caiman, lizards big & small, spiders, butterflies, weird-looking caterpillars & centipedes thick as twixes. Not to mention the falls themselves, huge & unyielding. I was in awe of their sheer magnitude. We found our way through jungle paths in the glorious sunshine, humbled by their great power. I feel like I’ve never seen so much water in one place. In every fall we found a rainbow, reflecting the magnificent bright sunlight. 

The following day Roxy left - she has gone to explore Patagonia, while I will make passage to Bolivia as I am keen to see the Salt Flats & the Amazon. I found her departure very emotional; after spending day in, day out with her for the last almost-7 months it felt very strange for her to depart so abruptly.

Hannah & I spent her last day doing a hike through a local forest, seeing - & swimming in, a real highlight for me - more waterfalls, & feeding monkeys eggs before heading to the famous Parque des Aves to coo at various exotic birds. Toucans, scarlet ibis’, parrots of every possible colour, owls, vultures, you  name it. I was so incredible to get so close to so many beautiful creatures.

We treated ourselves to the most decadent steak platter for dinner before it was time for Hannah, too, to go home. During our entire 17 year friendship we have never had three whole weeks to just spend together. It was such a treat to get such unadulterated Best Friend time, not to mention in such a special place. It means so much to me that I have a friend willing to fly all the way to Brazil to spend time with me. 

So that’s a wrap on 2017. Phew. As always at this time of year, I pause to reflect on the 12 months just passed. It’s been quite a year in many ways.

It started off terribly. The incredibly difficult & painful breakdown of a relationship, which, after many attempts to salvage something good from the wreckage, resulted in the eventual dissolution of one of my most long-standing friendships. The subsequent collapse of any authority I had at my workplace & becoming ostracised from many of my friends in London. It was horrendous. I was glad to have travelling to look forward to as a way of escaping but this too has been fraught with pitfalls & looks like it might also be the catalyst for the crumbling of another relationship, which has been a particularly hard blow given how my year started.

Travelling itself too has been a tremendous challenge for me. To be away from the people I love, away fro familiarity, stability, routine & structure, is something I’ve found incredibly difficult. Very isolating. The most savage rearing of my depression in many years & feelings of acute loneliness. It’s not easy for me to admit this; so many expectations to have THE BEST TIME EVER felt very pressured, & like I was failing, or letting people down, by having a hard time. Learning that you are a a person that requires routine to feel sane doesn’t feel great either. It makes me feel like the most boring person in the world.

Having said that - & obviously I need to round this out into something positive - I have tried. I have given it my best. It was my dream to quit my job & go on an adventure & I fucking did. It’s been a year of overcoming challenges, from surviving the break-up & subsequent volatile atmosphere at work to venturing out on my own & learning Spanish & navigating round South America & beyond with very minimal prior knowledge. I have learned that I am able to do things that scare me & I find hard & survive. I can feel very depressed & alone & far away from everyone & still survive. It did not kill me. I am still here.

I saw & experienced things I have dreamt of for years, about which I am very proud. I overcame all of my fears & actually fulfilled a real dream & that’s a fact that I will always cherish. I tried to make the best of an opportunity & despite its difficulties I still look at it all in a positive way. Of course I do. The things I have seen! The things I have done! I’ve pushed myself so far, physically & mentally, & have grown stronger & more self-aware as a result. I have faced up to things about myself that are hard to admit: that I like routine. That I find it really hard to be around people constantly. That I have bad mood swings & despite burying my hand in the sand for quite a while do have unresolved issues with depression, anxiety, food, self-confidence, self-worth & self-image. A really smorgasbord of mental health issues. BUT. I am still capable & independent & adventurous. I went forth with my dream despite all these things. 

I have also learned just how important my family are to me. I never want to be apart from my brother for this long ever again. I genuinely don’t know where or what I would be without my mum & her partner & their endless stream of support & love. I have a best friend, willing to spend thousands of pounds to fly halfway around the planet just to spend Christmas with me. The people I love are in London - or at the very least, the UK - & thus that is where I firmly believe I belong. I will follow my heart towards the people I care about the most, & who care about me in return. The world is an incredible place, filled with wild nature & magnificent folks but there is no place like home.

I have just booked my flight back in fact. 7th of March I will be landing on home soil & the relief I felt at booking this ticket brought me to tears. I am exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally exhausted. I am so so grateful for this chance to travel & explore but I am so excited to go HOME. I’m not sure what the next phase of my life entails but I am certain it will be filled with love. The people I love. The things I love to do. I have a new focus & drive to really push my art because that will make me happy. And I can always travel again. The rest of the world isn’t going anywhere. But for now, I need to surround myself with the people that mean the most to me because that is truly the thing that is most important to me. I realise this now with a sharper clarity than ever before.

And there you have it. My reflections on 2017; its ups, its downs. A real rollercoaster it has been. I am determined, now that I know my time away is finite, to make the most of it. I have decided that in three days when Hannah returns home that I am going to go it alone. My confidence is at rock bottom & I need to build it up again & I think I need to be on my own to do so.

São Paulo: our time here has been dominated by arty things, museum, culture. I feel sophisticated. The market we went to today turned out not to be a textile market but Japanese street market in Liberdade, the Japanese district of São Paulo. Lots of street food & handicrafts. I tried my first coxinha which ironically is not an Asian but traditional Brazilian street food delicacy (very tasty, cheap & filling) & resisted strong urges to buy a silk kimono & matching wooden-soled sandals, telling myself that when I do eventually acquire those things it should be from actual Asia when I eventually go there.

We also visited the Banco de São Paulo, a beautiful Art Deco building that (unsurprisingly, given the name) was once a bank but now houses art exhibits in its now defunct vaults. A very interesting space for some not especially interesting art but an enlightening experience all the same.

São Paulo is a place in which I find myself very inspired, artistically. This is aided of course by the presence of Hannah, fellow art enthusiast, & her constant suggestions of arty stuff for us to do.

Yesterday we visited Beco do Batman, or Batman Alley, an area in the trendy district of Vila Madalena where there are heaps & heaps of murals. It was a riot of colour & pattern & was wonderful to simply wander, surrounded by free art.

I am really developing my illustrative practise here which is great. I suddenly am filled with lots of drive & focus for the kind of stuff I want to make & sell when I get back & the kind of style I want to become recognisable as mine. This is good for me as I like to have purpose & feel like I’m going somewhere. I’m gathering heaps of ideas.

Boxing Day in Guaratiba - a trip to the beach & a hike with Hannah up the Piedra Telegrafo, a high hill just behind our hostel from which we could see all the way to the centre of Rio city. Certainly a delightful way to spend a Boxing Day. I am browner than ever. It was very difficult to leave such a beautiful place but the show must go on & so we rose at a godawful hour on the 27th & made it onto our bus to Sao Paulo with but 3 minutes to spare after the most stress-inducing journey of all time during which I anticipated trying to explain that we had missed our bus in Portuguese & panicking A LOT.

But make it we did & after 5 & a half boring bus hours here we are. The evening of our arrival was uneventful due to tiredness & general post-bus malaise but thankfully our hostel is completely beautiful & a splendid place to spend a lazy evening. It’s a huge old building with stained glass windows & wood floors & a spiral staircase & is the nicest hostel we have found so far. A real joy to stay here. It’s always nice to find a decent base so that if you do feel like spending a day in you actually can. This is particularly useful at this juncture as lots of places are closed for the holidays making the options for things to do slightly limiting.

However, some options remain, & yesterday we packed an awful lot of them in. First, a trip to Museu Afro Brazil, a museum dedicated to the history & culture of black settlers in Brazil, from their arrival as slaves to contemporary art made by prominent black Brazilian artists. So fascinating, possibly my favourite museum ever. It was huge & packed with such an array of objects it was actually dizzying. I discovered new artists to fall in love with, learned lots about the history of black culture in Brazil & in general wandered about in awe, gazing at all the colourful artefacts. Could’ve easily spent the whole day in this museum. I really enjoyed it. Brazil has an interestingly different flavour to the rest of South America, which makes it a very interesting place; I believe this is largely due to the fact that it has a much more diverse ethnic tapestry due to its large population of Afro-Caribbeans. It is almost like a separate entity, its own stand-alone continent. I enjoy this. I believe diversity makes places rich & interesting. 

There’s also a sculpture garden surrounding the museum & so we wandered amongst those before continuing on our quest to the Mercado Municipao, a humongous covered food market with the most dazzling array of weird fruit & cheese & crystallised goodies & various other interesting looking food stuffs that I have ever lid eyes upon. One of my main aims for coming travelling was to glean as much creative inspiration as possible, hence my tireless work on my sketchbooks, from which I hope to gather enough information as possible from which to make prints when I get home. I now intend to spend a large portion of today painting fruit. I ate my first fig. It was delicious.

Following this , we went to the Galleria do Rock, a huge shopping centre dedicated to rock & metal, which was actually so surreal & bizarre & literally like going in a time machine to my angsty teenage years. It was very nostalgic & was very difficult not to fully re-submit to the metal life & buy skate shoes & tartan mini skirts & get more piercings. The whole five stories were dedicated to all these things; tattoo shops every where you looked, skate clothes, piercers, memorabilia shops. It was a great place to people watch & just so unusual to see so much of that stuff in one place. Kind of like a giant Camden without the hippies.

Since my last post we have changed location - we are now in Barra de Guaratiba, essentially a tropical paradise of gorgeous beaches & jungle & glorious, continual sunshine & tiny monkeys. However more of Rio was explored before our departure, starting with the Casa de Escala: a very long set of steps decorated with lots of tiles & mosaics by a Brazilian artist called Selaron. As a massive fan of colour, tiles & repeating patterns this was literally my stairway to heaven. A riot of bright hues & a total mish-mash of tiles sourced from around the world, decorated with anything & everything from floral motifs to renderings of the places they were from; images from old film posters, famous faces, inspirational quotes, sheet music, you name it. It was so beautiful & fun & after we made it to the stop (via lots of shameless hipster-y photos & messing around on the tiled slides & climb-able bits at the edges of the stairway) we sat in the sun & drank coconuts & listened to someone playing wonderful latino guitar music. 

In what continued to be another Art Day we then went & spent a blissful hour at Rio’s modern art museum, which was for me a peaceful opportunity to sit, uninterrupted, & draw a very interesting brass Mark Bill sculpture. I just love art galleries; they are such calming spaces, always cool & quiet & great places for a good bit of quiet time drawing, plenty of inspiration. As I have not been feeling quite myself of late it was a really nice time to restore some calm & just immerse myself in my sketchbook quietly. It definitely helped.

After the gallery we headed to the top Rio tourist spot: Christ the Redeemer. The Big Guy. The Head Honcho. The main event. This involved a walk through a very pleasant, floral neighbourhood before boarding a little funicular train up the mountain upon which JC is perched. Blimey. It’s a high mountain, let me tell you. And none of this gradual incline nonsense; this mofo is STEEP. Literally like an arrowhead. The mountains here are crazy, I’ve never seen anything like them. They barely look like real mountains. But up we went, through the jungle on the little train, leaving Rio behind as we went up & up. I was frightened at the top. The whole of the city was spread out below us, so far down. It was officially the highest thing I have ever gone up. You can see for miles & miles. And then of course there’s JC himself. He’s intimidatingly tall. But oddly peaceful; there’s something in his stature & expression that feels calming. We wished him an early happy birthday & took in the frankly breathtaking views & larked about taking pictures (& oddly, starred in quite a lot of photos with a bunch of Asian tourists at their request). And then down we went, planning some fun for our final morning before we left the Big City.

This involved taking a guided tour of the Santa Marta favela; probably the most famous favela in Rio as it provided the setting for Michael Jackson’s ‘They don’t really care about us’ music video. The favela is huge, home to over 300,000 people, like a city within a city. We took the lift to the top & then walked down; our tour guide stopping to point out the first church, Michael Jackson square, & making time for some of our group to play football with some local kids. The favela is like houses on top of house on top of houses set into the hillside. The best views over Rio & the only place in the city where you can see Jesus looking down on you from the front. It’s difficult for me to find the right language to describe our experience here. I loved it, but is it patronising to describe it as humbling? But in a sense of course, it was. It certainly reminded me of my privilege to see how people live there. But is it insulting to assume that the residents there are less fortunate than myself? Less happy? Perhaps they are not. We all just live how we live & make the best of it. The people there were simply people; polite, friendly, welcoming, going about their business like you or I, taking care of their homes, kids playing in the street: just human. Very interesting & for me a real highlight. One of my main desires for this trip was to see how different people live around the world, experience different cultures & get some insight into humanity I guess. If anything it is excursions like this that make me realise that while we are all different, we are also all similar. Just people.

Unfortunately despite all these wonderful experiences - & they truly were wonderful - my time in Rio was somewhat blighted by a real cacophony of negative thoughts I was unable to shake. Feeling depressed is like a black cloud that settles over you & casts a shadow over everything you try & achieve. You can’t escape it, you just have to wait it out, which is horrible when you are trying valiantly to make the most of the travel opportunity of a lifetime. But what can you do? Try & appreciate as much as you can. Hannah got me started on something that I’m called the Positivity Project, where I make a list each day of ten things I am grateful for. Sometimes it can feel like everything is wrong but this is really helping me to see that even something that may seem trivial & meaningless to other people - or to yourself at less trying times - like eating a good, nourishing breakfast is in fact something, even a small something, that you can be positive about. In any case I feel it’s a small step in the right direction, to adjusting my ways of thinking, to helping me see good things when the dark cloud has taken residence.

After the tour we packed our things & headed off to where we are now: the Banana Leaf Eco Hostel in Guaratiba. This has been the best-timed change of location of all. We are surrounded by lush greenery, a beach just ten minutes away, a beautiful & comfortable hostel with a very welcoming host & his sweet daughter who have gone out of their way to make us feel so at home. On our first morning our breakfast was interrupted by a gaggle of marmosets who came to join us on the terrace & ate bits of banana out of our hands, which for me was truly magical. I have tried to restore a little routine into each day; making time for exercise, healthy food & art, interspersed with plenty of sunbathing & swimming in the pool, trying to rest & just trying to get myself right. It is working. I am feeling positive & grateful again. We celebrated Christmas here the Brazilian way: an epic feast at midnight on Christmas eve, surrounded by lots of local friends of Mark & Luna’s. We wore party hats & ate until late, roast things & local dishes, everything you could think of.