#traveltribe

One of my favorite parts of traveling is the people I meet along the way. 

My very first solo trip was to Paris when I was just 24, and when I wasn’t wandering the city in pure amazement, I was sitting in the common room of my hostel listening for anyone who spoke English. Lucky me, on my third day, I found a group of guys who knew each other from school. Most were Americans from Texas, save for the one Irishman (yes, the accent was hot). I had a blast with them for the next three days, getting drunk on wine under the Eiffel Tower and listening to French rap battles by the Seine. They were my bodyguards and a highlight of that trip. That was four years ago, and I made a friendly bet with one of those guys just a couple weeks ago that my Chiefs would beat his Cowboys.

In Guatemala, I met wonderful, like-minded Canadians during my volunteer trip. I climbed a volcano with three of the Northerners on my second day there, and damn am I grateful. Trekking a 13,000-foot volcano didn’t seem so daunting until I was literally on my hands and knees crawling through volcanic ash to get to the top. My fellow adventurers were so amazingly patient with me and my non-athletic ass. Another Canuck was in the room next to me in our volunteer housing, and we explored everything Antigua had to offer. I still follow her adventures on Instagram and am itching to go to B.C. and tag along.

When I went to Belize, I ended up staying there four days longer than anticipated due to a hurricane (fucking Earl). I was in a cozy hostel on the beach on the island of San Pedro, and the first few days were gorgeous and sunny and full of friendly faces. But the real connections were made once they issued the hurricane evacuations and started battening down the hatches and nailing plywood to the windows. Let me tell you, nothing will bond a random group of people together more than bottles (and bottles) of rum, card games and a slight fear for your life. 

Mexico was perhaps the most formative trip when it came to meeting friends this year. My travel buddy and I decided to go on a booze cruise off the coast of Puerto Vallarta and dear God, I should really capitalize and bold BOOZE. We started the trip on the top level of a catamaran gauging our fellow boat mates for the day. Down below was a group of Canadian dudes on a bachelor party (or “stag” as they call it). They ranged in age from 22 to 55 and were a riot. After some early morning tequila shots and remote island exploring, we descended below and greeted the guys. One in particular was sitting alone looking a little green in the face (poor guy was seasick the entire time), so I inched closer until he said, “Hey, what’s your name?” By this time of the booze cruise, I was about 489 margaritas and tequila shots deep, so I can’t recall the entire conversation, but I got his name and added him on Facebook. 

And it’s because of this guy that I got to venture to Canada. Starting from the day of our meeting, I messaged him and bugged him on a weekly basis telling him I was going to visit Canada until I finally pulled the trigger and went over Memorial Day weekend this year. He offered to be my tour guide, and we were fast friends with a similar sense of humor and hunger for adventure. And thanks to him, I got to cross Banff National Park off my bucket list... twice over. Yep, I went back just a few weeks ago because it is THAT gorgeous (and the company was not so bad, too).

I’ve made some unforgettable friendships through my travels. Some of my all-time favorite memories involve these people, some I may never see again, but I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Travel really is the only thing you buy that makes you richer.