Every year, thousands of young adults who feel stuck in their lives go on exotic solo travel journeys to find themselves. My experience in the Sacred Valley of Peru made me question the point of that.
The allure of the Sacred Valley, running from Cusco to Machu Picchu, is its spirituality. But what is meant by that? Travellers seek peace, love, and a sense of connection. That is why they flock here, among other destinations like Thailand or India.
But as I looked at the ruins of an Inca fortification above the enchanting village of Pisac, I saw something much more grey and complex. A display of political control and at times brutality, just like at home.
Stuck By Myself?
The thing about solo travel is that you can never leave yourself behind. I had travelled seeking transformation, but the same negative thoughts circled in my head. And likewise, humanity and complex civilisation, with all their flaws, were equally present here in Peru. In the end, I was stuck at home, within me. I was stuck on earth, with all of you.
Solo travel had been an accident. I had initially come to Peru in the summer of 2022, with my lifelong friend William. But when he got sick from a suspected case of Covid, he was stuck quarantining in his hotel room.
And so it was that I went by myself to the small village of Pisac. The hostel I had decided to stay in was popular with young backpackers. There was a rowdy atmosphere, but also one of overwhelming friendliness. Everyone seemed committed to the spirit of solo travel, meaning personal transformation and openness.
What I wondered, however, was about their daily lives outside of Peru. What had pushed them to go out by themselves and seek meaning and transcendence, and would they ever actually find anything? I imagined them stuck in their routines with countless annoyances and demands. If they did find anything, could it ever survive the reality of everyday life?
Reality was in Peru too
The first thing I did was book a taxi to Kinsa Cocha, an untouched valley above Pisac sitting at 4,000 meters of altitude, with three pristine lakes. As we rattled across a dirt road, my driver let me know that people in this area were of indigenous ancestry, and lived an extremely simple lifestyle, devoid of much technology, a reminder of Peru’s complexity.
Stepping out, around me was a thick golden grass, contrasting against a velvety intense blue sky. This is where I perhaps enjoyed solo travel the most. I was alone, and without signal on my phone. In the far distance, however, I could see women cutting this grass by hand. It looked like back-breaking labour. I wonder if they found this place spiritual or transcendental as well, or if they felt stuck in their own lives as much as I did.
It was on the way back to Pisac that I picked up two guys my age, one German and the other American, who were stuck in the middle of nowhere. A big part of solo travel to Peru is the drugs, and they had just engaged in a San Pedro ceremony. As it took an hour to get back home, I had the pleasure of listening to their conversations, an interesting blend of spirituality, pseudo-history and conspiracy theories. Is this what it meant to be enlightened?
But the history of Peru didn’t mirror their idealism at all. When the following day I hiked to Qalla Q’asa, an Inca citadel, I saw temporal power in all its complexity. But even in the streets, in the atmosphere, I could feel the difficult story of modern Peru. Of colonialism, dictatorship and discrimination against indigenous people.
This is a silly detail, but everywhere I had been to there were countless roaming stray dogs. Many were disfigured, some would bark and growl, at times making me anxious. It was just another reminder of the suffering present here. There was an uncomfortable thought thought stuck in my head: that in much of the West, these dogs would be put down. And more importantly that in Peru they likely would as well, if not for poverty and lack of resources.
The Point of Solo Travel?
But now that I was in the lobby of the hotel, a different kind of dog approached me and sat on my lap. I felt it could sense my discomfort. All it did was gently stay with me, no matter what. Embracing me no matter my cynicism, or the feeling that all of this was pointless.
My accidental solo travel experience had ended not with self discovery, transcendence, or enlightenment. Instead, it had wound down with a quiet embrace.
Soon, I would be on my way to Peru’s most famous landmark, Machu Pichu with my friend William, who had recovered. There, I would stay in the village of Aguas Calientes, for all intents and purposes a tourist trap.
But on my last night in Pisac, I was kept awake by someone in the room besides mine violently throwing up after having taken Ayahuasca. And all I could feel was empathy for our fragility, for our flaws. In the end, in my solo travel, there was nothing to find.
For more on dealing with being stuck, check out our blogs on Ronnie O’Sullivan or on why you should take up running
