Postcards From Peru #1
It’s my first night alone. I said goodbye to my family two hours ago and now sit on the bottom bunk at an Irish-themed hostel in Cusco, Peru, while my mom, aunt, and cousin wait patiently for their red-eye flight back to NY.
The drive back to Cusco from the Sacred Valley was quick and heavy. I sat beside my mom, holding hands and reminiscing about the past ten days. My heart filled with the heaviness and sadness of parting from my family, and I felt grateful to have shared this experience with my mom. I haven’t lived in the same city as her for over five years now, and our time together is usually quick trips.
As our van pulled up to my hostel, we all grew quiet. We hugged, with no tears present but also not entirely there. I thought back to something my mom once told me: I walked right in on my first day of nursery school without looking back. Independent from the start. But today, I turned around and stood there and waited, waving as they drove off. I crave these moments with family more and more as I get older and my family grows. My cousin Jamie and I often talk about how lucky we are to have a family that’s so close, both in how frequently we see each other and how we have relationships that go beyond holidays and happy birthday wishes. It’s something we should never take for granted.
I’m feeling a lot of different emotions right now. The trip we had been planning for the past two years is over. Despite it being on our calendars, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into or what to expect. I don't think any of us did.
According to some people, I have always loved to travel and am fiercely independent, perhaps to a fault. In 2019, I was naive and brave, walking two feet forward without looking over my shoulder as I backpacked through Europe and parts of the Middle East. I was 24, looking for myself and looking for an adventure. I didn’t overthink anything — I just went. I figured things out as they came and trusted that I would land on my feet. Back then, something was freeing about not having a plan, about being untethered. It felt like the only thing that mattered was the moment right in front of me.
Today, I’m 29, married, and in between jobs. The idea of solo traveling brings new anxieties that I haven’t felt before. Maybe I’m just older and wiser. Perhaps I have more to lose these days. Or maybe I’ve just gotten comfortable in my day-to-day life and the little luxuries I wholeheartedly know I take for granted.
It’s funny how certain situations make us realize changes in ourselves. Back home in Charleston, where I live with my husband, I constantly crave independence and steal seconds whenever possible. Now faced with complete solitude (despite the nine other people sharing my hostel room), I wish I wasn’t alone. I know that in this feeling, being alone is exactly what I need right now. My life has been so easy, safe, and comfortable, yet my day-to-day routine has not felt fulfilling in a long time. I crave control over my time and schedule, financial independence, and a stronger social scene. So, I must shake things up, mix them around, and live on the edge.
That said, I’m not entirely on my own for long. Thankfully, my friend will join me in Lima in a few days. She’s a fellow traveler at heart, and we ebb and flow between doing activities together and doing things on our own. Cohabitation at best—we’re both not seeking thrills or danger right now if that makes sense.
I had hoped to journal and document more, but I chose to stay present and soak up the much-needed family time. Hopefully, in this next leg of the journey, I’ll find more moments to write and share what it feels like to rediscover myself here in southern Peru.
These are great pictures. What a beautiful experience. ❤️❤️❤️
Te amo 🦙❤️🦙