Phew, I thought. Someone can be a pretty, fun, smart and interesting traveler in her thirties. This came as an incredible relief, because like most women past 25, I can feel my thirties approaching like the inevitable onslaught of winter. No matter how much I know that age is just a number, 40 is the new 30, 30 is the new 20, people can be “young at heart” and so on, I still get anxious about the future just like (practically) everybody else.

These ordinary fears are further complicated for the traveler.

For most people, social norms dictate that long-term travel is for the young post-college crowd. It’s for them to have a bit of “adventure” before settling down and leading a normal life. Take the following examples, for instance:

Upon hearing that I have been living and traveling in Central America the past eight months, most people give me the following response: “That’s great, you’ve got to do that while you’re young.”

Uhhh… but what if I want to do it again when I’m 55?

Or, take my mom, for example. She once asked me: “sure, it’s fine floating around while you’re 26, but do you really want to be doing the same thing when you’re 32?”

Uhhh… sorta.

And I’ve even been guilty of such thoughts myself, as hypocritical as they are. I mean, who hasn’t rolled their eyes at the 42 year old who’s hitting on the 19 year old backpackers in some crowded hostel dorm?

So, the first question is: is there an age after which long-term travel or the nomadic lifestyle is inappropriate?

My answer: no. (Did you expect me to answer any other way?) People should live the way they want, as long as they aren’t impeding on others’ lives or shirking their responsibilities (supporting children, for instance.)

No, because being nomadic is in many ways a lifestyle choice. And while I’m a slower nomad – I tend to do the longer-term expat thing more than actual backpacking – this is a lifestyle I can’t see myself giving up for quite some time.

Sure, my traveling style might have changed a bit, and will probably continue to change as I get older. I used to always stay in dorms, no matter what. Now, I often cough up the 5 bucks for a private room – 5 bucks I would have spent on beer to make the hostel dorm bearable. As my father has, as I grow older I might come to want more comfort as I travel. But I’ll still be the same.

So my answer, then, is no. But truth be told, most people’s answer would be yes. Scour the internet a bit, and you’ll find debates on whether it’s “sad” to travel solo or teach English abroad after 30. Many people, it seems, are offended at those who do not settle down in the traditional way.

Second question, then: how to deal with the people who think long-term travel is only for the very young?

I don’t have an answer to this. At least for me, it’s not so easy to say “fuck ‘em.” I like my family and friends. Many get me, but some don’t. But I’m still not willing to forget about them.

In a recent entry, Wade discusses the issue of exit taxes. He says:

All exit taxes from a country are corrupt: you are just paying off the police to let you leave their area of jurisdiction. Just because some forms of extortion are officially mandated does not make it any less corrupt… This is a ransom payment — I am temporarily held in limbo until I pay up.

Not surprisingly, I found myself in disagreement. The resulting debate between myself, Wade and other readers revealed a lot of opposition towards both exit and entry taxes. Both corrupt.

Let’s see what I’ve paid in entry and exit taxes in my lifetime. All are estimations and listed in Canadian dollars, which is more or less the same as American these days (ha ha). These are also all official taxes, not bribes.

2006 – Multiple Entry Burkina Faso visa – $100
2006 – Multiple Entry Jordan visa – $30
2006 – Single Entry Ghanaian visa bought in Burkina – $30
2007 – Panama tourist card – $5
2008 – Multiple Entry Burkina Faso visa – $100
2008 – Single Entry Ghana visa – $60
2008 – Single Entry Togo visa bought in Ghana – $30
2008 – Single Entry Ghana visa bought in Burkina – $30
2008 – Exit tax, Mexico – $25
2009 – Exit tax, Belize – $25
(in 2010 when leaving Mexico nobody asked me to pay up. Go figure.)

Grand total: 435 dollars.

Shit, that’s a lot of money. That’s, say, four months rent in Guatemala. A cheap round-trip ticket to Mexico. A new digital camera. About 500 tacos al pastor. Yes, it kind of does piss me off.

But can I really disagree with this?

No, I can’t.

Why?

1. Check out what the others guys pay. Ok. Take, for example, Ghana. When I applied to get a visa for Ghana I was appalled and, I’ll admit, offended at how much was required of me. 60 bucks. A letter of invitation. Detailed information on where I’d be staying. Copies of my plane ticket. Yeesh, why’d they have to make it so hard? Then a Ghanaian friend of mine said that Ghana introduced these new rules to make a point – that Ghanaians have to do so much more to visit Canada. To get a single entry to Canada, A Ghanaian must pay $75 (a much more relatively high sum over there) and provide a much longer list of required documents. After all that, there’s a much greater chance that his or her visa will be denied. Seems only fair that we have to pay that much?
In Mexico, I have to pay a $25 peso exit fee whenever I’m in the country for more than 5 days. Annoying. However, I can saunter in to Mexico pretty much whenever I please. I can just show up, say a little “hola” to the immigration dude and in I go. But a Mexican must apply for a visa, which costs him $75 (for a single entry.) Suddenly makes that $25 bucks not sound too bad.

My point? Citizens of developing countries must jump through expensive hoops to get into our countries. It only seems fair that we cough up some dough as well.

2. Governments retain the rights to control who enters / leaves. Yeah, this is a heavy one. And I surprise myself saying this because I disagree so much immigration law these days. (For instance, I disagree with the new visa law for Mexicans in Canada, or the overall treatment of illegal immigrants in the United States, and so forth.) In my ideal world, there would be much less restriction.

But as much as I disagree with so many policies, I recognize the right for countries to have such policies. I know we live in such a “globalized” world where a few powers seem to control weaker countries. But (and call me naive) I’d still like to think that different countries should have the sovereignty to do what they please inside their own borders. As long as they don’t infringe on basic human rights, that is. And from where I’m standing, the ability to backpack doesn’t seem to be an human right.

And that brings us to the third reason.

3. Budget travelers just ain’t that important.

I love traveling. And I love traveling on the cheap. And I know many budget travelers that are incredible people trying to learn about the world and using their meager dollars to support local businesses in developing countries.

But let’s be honest. Many more budget travelers are jackasses who haggle excessively with food vendors only to blow all their “saved” money at foreign-owned bars. They often get totally wasted, many wear slobby and/or revealing clothing and behave way more promiscuously than local norms would allow. This is a stereotype, I know, but having traveled a lot I know this stereotype is based on a lot of fact. And besides, even if the stereotype isn’t that true, this is how backpackers are perceived in much of the world. And it’s often perceived that budget travelers don’t really bring that many real dollars into the economy.

Many countries these days are trying to cater more to mid-range and upper range tourists because this is where they’ve found there’s real money and growth to be made. Is it any wonder that immigration officials don’t shed a tear slapping on a 100 buck entry tax?

Anyways, this probably wasn’t much of a rebuttal. But still deep down I can’t really get fundamentally angry at entry and exit taxes.

Still though, it’s a pain in the ass. I have a couple job interviews for schools in Vietnam next week. According to reliable sources (the internet), a beer in Vietnam costs about 70 cents. My visa will cost around 79 dollars. Geez, I’d rather use that to buy 112 beers.

All summer I have been in “travel mode.” I may have been on a budget, but being in “travel mode” still means “vacation mode” which for me at least means spending money.

Even though I was staying in the cheapest hostels or hotels, eating inexpensive food and doing little drinking, it still all adds up. Sometimes the process of travel seems like one neverending spending spree.

I am trying to adjust to a more day-to-day mode now, because spending like I’m traveling is just not sustainable. I want to be here for six more months, not just two.

Actually, it’s pretty easy to live cheaply when you stay in one spot. The tricks are the following:

1) Live and hang out with locals and long-term foreigners. Short-termers are fun, but the are in “travel mode” so they spend a lot more lavishly. Hanging out with those on a budget makes it much easier to be on one too.

2) Stop feeling like you have to “do something” every night. You live here now. Take it easy.

3) Cook at home.

That’s right. Suddenly, I am spending almost no money.

I might just be here until March after all.

Still, though, Caye Caulker is a wonderful place and probably shouldn’t be missed on a trip through Central America. People traveling on a budget can probably splurge for a couple days of island life.

That said, I bet most “budget” packpackers spent tons more money than I did. I wouldn’t be surprised if most were spending at least 50 dollars a day. Here’s what you can do to reduce costs:

Don’t stay right on the beach. Everything is literally a one minute walk from the beach – do you really need to be RIGHT on it? On the beach, the best 10 US dollars will get you is a bedbug-ridden dorm bed. Off the beach in the wonderful Sandy Lane Hotel, 10 US dollars a night (well, 20 for two people) will get you a private cabin with your own washroom, fridge, complete kitchen and TV. And there’s a place to barbeque! Staying here saves money because of good cooking facilities. The same kind of cabin would be double the price on the beach.

Don’t drink that much! Jeez… a beer in bar costs about 4 US$, a cocktail about 7 US$. Do you really need to get wasted while you are here? If you want to drink, go to one of the liquor stores off the beach and buy some beer or coconut rum. Much cheaper (about 1.50 US$ for a bottle of beer or 10US$ for a big bottle of rum.)

Cook! My brother and I bought a box of cornflakes and milk for breakfast, and barbequed fresh fish for dinner.

When eating out, don’t eat right on the beach. It’s pretty easy to get a big delicious lunch for 5 US$ (cheap for Caye Caulker) if you eat off the beach at a place like Sea Garden Cafe (hope I have that name right.)

Anyways, I think Belize and Caye Caulker would make a great first stop in Central America for those new to the region. It’s super easy to travel there, and coming from North America or Europe the prices will seem cheap! Then you can move further south and be pleasantly surprised as the prices get better.

On one hand, I’m not nearly the partier I used to be. Often, I prefer to read, write or spend time with friends at home, or watch a movie and/or guilty-pleasure television. Many times when I grab a beer, I feel tired and groggy, and end up going home early.

As well, going out is a huge expense, one of the reason it is so difficult for many people to travel on a small budget.

And, finally, drinking and going out late ups the danger factor quite a bit – you are much more likely to be a victim of crime anywhere if you are out late, or don’t have all your wits about you.

But on the other hand, there are many things I gain from going out. It seems, especially when abroad, that it is the main way of getting to know people and having a group of friends.

Also, while a truly incredible night out happens maybe 20% of the time, I do love a good party. You know, the kind that involves good vibes, lots of energy, funny stuff happening and so on. This past Saturday was one such night, another was my first night of this summer going salsa dancing. Such fun nights are why I keep going out, even though I know the majority I will get tired early and head home, feeling lame and old.

And finally, there’s an aspect of a place that can only be felt through its nightlife. I want, of course, to get a complete picture.

But I’m tired right now. I don’t want to feel obliged to go out and “have fun,” just because I am traveling. Because I am traveling, I think, I should follow how my body feels. But regardless (maybe due to that small part of me that is still 14-years-old and cares about what others think) I worry that I’m not going out enough and getting to know people fast enough. I need to keep reminding myself is that the reason I travel is to be more honest with myself.

Anyways, I maybe should not be writing right now. I discovered today that I have an allergy to something in the salad I made, and while my breathing became constricted, a dutch girl in my guesthouse tossed me some strong medicine. The good news was that the allergic reaction disappeared almost instantly. The bad news is, I should have followed her advice to not drink any alcohol tonight. I drank one beer at the bar, and immediately I found myself yawing and falling asleep almost uncontrollably. Since I’m so dopey, I’m sure my words are a little garbled and I apologize for that.

Anyways, some friends walked my exhausted butt home around 10pm. I went to my room, feeling lame and guilty that I’m not the fun-loving person that I like to imagine myself being.

But you know what? I’m going to enjoy this sleep immensely, and I’m going to wake up feeling great and ready to enjoy another day in this wondeful town.

According to the Rough Guide to Guatemala, chicken bus drivers “always seems to be moustachioed ladinos with an eye for the ladies and a fixation for speed and overtaking on blind corners.”

This is completely true.

When I did the Antigua to Xela journey last summer by tourist shuttle (with a stop in Panajachel, mind you) it took almost six hours. Today, our chicken bus made it in three and a half.

We raced along the curving highway at speeds unimaginable. At one point, we passed a tourist shuttle and I stared at them through the window, saying “S’long suckers!” Yes: the experience is a mixture of fun and fear.

At most points in the journey, the seats were jammed with three people each. For slight Mayans this is, of course, not a problem. But for wide gringa bottoms it’s just a little cozy. About two hours into the trip, a young man brought a box full of raw fish aboard, and I knew it was time to hit the Gravol.

Truth be told, though, it’s this kind of chaos that keeps me hooked on travel, especially to developing countries. It keeps me on my toes and makes me feel alive, as cliched as it sounds.

On chicken buses, where there were once rules for American schoolchildren posted at the front (“No standing on the bus. No smoking. No food or beverage”) there are now only religious quotes:

“I drive – God guides me”

or

“We are all in God’s hands.”

Even for a non-religious person like myself, these quotes summarize the attitude needed to travel. Roll with the punches. Cross your fingers and go with it. When you arrive in one piece, you’ll feel happier than you did before. When the fresh air is blowing through the windows and merengue is blaring on the stereo, all you can do is enjoy the ride.

Unfortunately, the one real problem on the trip from Antigua to Xela was that my friend Jen was robbed. While changing buses in Chimaltenango, someone must have slashed the bottom of her bag, because once we were on the next bus we noticed a hole at the bottom and her wallet was gone. Luckily, her passport and cash were in her money belt so after being initially really shaken up, I think she feels better now. Something I felt a year ago when I was robbed for the first time (in Ouagadougou) – thankful that as long as your health and sanity is with you, nothing you lose is that important.

“I Hemorrhage Money”

or

“Now Taking Bets on When I Will Be Broke.”

I am not nearly the “budget traveler” that I’d like to think I am.

This isn’t to say that I mind roughing it. I am, as my father would say, “a mudder.” I sleep in the $4 dorms, I enjoy cheap street food and squat toilets make me giggle. To save 300 bucks this summer, I’m flying out of New York City (and taking the 12 hour bus ride there) instead of directly from Ottawa.

I can backpack for 20 dollars a day in Central America, no problem – but I know that it can be done for a lot less.

But the problem is, I am absolutely horrible with money, at home and abroad. The stuff seems to seep through my fingers without my even realizing it. I’ve admired the people who can live on 5-10 dollars a day, but I’ve never been able to figure out how myself.

One of my problems (besides my absentmindedness) is my voracious appetite. I am hungry all the time. Really. If I don’t eat every two hours, I get bitchy, lightheaded and won’t stop thinking about food until I eat. So I spend a lot of money on food.

Besides that, though, I don’t know where it all goes. Sometimes I think back on the money I’ve spent and wonder where some of it has gone.

If I want to stay in Central America until next March (or even longer if I can) I need to fix this problem. I need to learn to live on 400 (Canadian) dollars a month if I don’t want to come home early.

I’m hoping the following will make the difference:

1) I will be staying in the same places for long periods of time. Two months in Xela (Quetzaltenango), Guatemala, and then six months outside of Granada, Nicaragua. I’ll do some doddling in between, and I’m sure I’ll take weekend trips, but basing myself in certain towns will have to help.

2) I don’t drink that much anymore. I do sometimes, but not nearly as much as when I was a wild early 20-something. I’ve stopped drinking (unless there is a really good party) because I have found that for me drinking too often causes depression. Thanks, but I’d rather feel happier. Anyways, beer in most bars is 2 dollars a bottle in Guatemala, which really eats through your budget pretty quickly. (Ah, if only I was going back to Panama, where it’s 25 cents a can.)

More creative suggestions? If I really want to do the whole nomadic thing, I’ve gotta perfect the art of living on very little. (At least until I get, you know, a real “paying job” overseas.)