During my recent trip to Colombia, I had more than a few of those “Am I ‘getting old’?” moments. Or perhaps I should say ‘older’. (‘Old’ on its own has a different connotation, I think.)
Now, in retrospect, I see that some of these moment were sort of funny and that many have something to do with being a low-budget traveler who prefers developing countries.
Why am I sharing this? Maybe it’s therapeutic for me to do so. Or maybe I’m looking for company to share in my misery. Ha ha. Certainly, if you somehow empathize (and perhaps sympathize), that would be wonderful.
So here are the 6 reasons I felt ‘older’ on my last trip.
1. I was older–twice as old–as many of the people I was with
I wasn’t imagining it. Where I went/stayed (hostels/low-budget hotels), I was older than 90% of the people I met. It was rare to meet people in their 30s or 40s or older.
I was reminded of this when I mistakenly stayed at a party hostel–twice–where my fellow travelers were in their late teens into their early 20s. Once, it was an obvious party hostel (so I left the next day). At the other hostel, it wasn’t so obvious.
Yikes, right? In these situations, I looked around and thought–oh wow…too bad I’m not a college student. If so, I’d love this. But I’m not. I’m actually a professor. Meaning that I felt more like a teacher who got into the students’ private college party.
It was awkward and, honestly, boring. The reason: much of it was about drinking. Believe me, there were times in the past when I loved the party scene–when I was that age. But now? A basic wine buzz (on occasion) will do me just fine.
What was different this time is that it really felt different–as in, not quite right.
How I Coped
I got drunk, really drunk. Just kidding. Really, I told myself to more careful so that I don’t end up in party hostels again–to read hostel reviews more carefully. And that’s what I did. The rest of my trip was great because I stayed at the right places.
2. I ended up at a party with mostly teenagers
Angie, a girl I met at a Couch-Surfing meet-up in Cali (see photo below), invited me out dancing one night. I was overjoyed as it was something I really wanted to do. She said there would be a party first, then dancing at a club. I think she was 23ish. I thought she knew my age (slightly more than twice hers) and I assumed (wrongly) that we’d be going somewhere with a wide range of ages. That’s how it was when I went to Latin dance clubs in the US.
After the party, a non-event due to no one showing up, we arrived at the club and I thought–oh crap. WTF is this? Sure enough, it was a couple hundred people at a salsoteca, spilling out onto the street. At least 3/4 were teenagers around 17 or 18 years old; the rest, with a handful of exceptions, were in their very early 20s. Back in high school, this would have been the ultimate party. For someone my age, it wasn’t fun.
I thanked Angie for inviting me, but didn’t stay too long.
How I Coped
I spoke to one of the older (40ish) employees at my hostel–which by the way, had people of a variety of ages staying there. He chuckled a bit, knowing the scene I’d encountered, and explained that there were clubs for people in ‘our age group’ and invited me to one with him and his wife.
Unfortunately, their child was ill and we didn’t make it. Still, just knowing that the option was available made me happy. If I return to Cali, I’ll stay there and hang out with them.
3. Twice, I was asked if I was someone’s mom
I get that red hair is less common than blonde and brown and if two people with red hair whose ages are significantly different are hanging out, one might wonder about their connection.
But hearing, “Is she your daughter?” (about a 26-year-old) shocked me a bit. I’d never in my life been asked that question.
Now, ‘aunt’ would have been a different story.
Here’s the girl. What do you think? (I’m in the photo below.)
Now, you might think–well, that’s an honest mistake, given the hair color. And sure, I agree. But guess what?
It happened again a few weeks later, this time with a guy. An Aussie with a reddish brown beard (right side of photo).
What’s a girl to do–go blonde? 
Nah.
How I Coped
I drank a few beers with my ‘son’ and had a good time. Easy enough. The Aussies are easy to be with–regardless of age–and these guys were great. (They thought I was younger, by the way, so I’ll love them forever.)
I think that sharing in the adventure of spending the night at Playa Blanca (when most people just do the day tour), in super basic accommodations, somehow equalized our ages (except when it came to the number of beers we each drank.)
4. I walked up hills/dunes slower than my (younger) travel companions
I took a 3-day tour of La Guajira, Colombia’s Wild West, at the end of my trip and, at times, my much-younger travel companions and I had to walk up some kinda-steep-but-not–too-steep hills to get to various scenic overlooks.
The trails were sucky and my shoes were ok, but not quite ideal. And it was as windy as hell. There were also some sand dunes that were might steep.
At times, I found myself falling behind.
Was this because of getting ‘older’? Maybe. Or perhaps it’s because I’ve been slacking on the workouts.
No matter what, though, I made it to the top.
How I Coped
I reminded myself of group hikes I’ve gone on and how there were people in their 70s doing 8-miles like a stroll in the park. I then told myself–Get your butt back to the gym.
5. I didn’t feel like staying up late
There were times when I could have stayed up late, really late, with some of the people I met. Most often, I didn’t feel like it. Sleep because more important than chatting. Also, reading in bed became super appealing since I rarely have time to do it at home.
Does that mean one is getting older? Or that one simply likes sleep and quiet time? Who knows?
How I Coped
I didn’t need to. I simply embraced it. Also, I think it’s healthier for me to go to sleep early-ish (11-midnight) versus at 1 or 2 am anyway. And in hot weather, which I encountered for much of my trip, being an early riser was best.
6. My backpack felt heavy…even though it wasn’t
I packed well/light for this trip–really well–but there were times when my backpack felt heavy and where I didn’t feel like schlepping it around. I even had ‘suitcase fantasies.’ Yes, the idea of wheeling a suitcase around became rather appealing…
How I Coped
I told myself that the backpack schlepping was actually a form of exercise, which would prepare me to walk up the hills faster in the future, so it was worth it.
Final acceptance and why I’m laughing about all of this now
I think I realized somewhere along the line that not a lot of people my age are traveling solo/independently to Colombia and so, some of what happened (except my hill-walking challenges) had to do with that. There truly were many younger travelers where I went (quite a few destinations), except maybe in the Coffee Zone, which seemed to attract more mainstream and slightly older tourists.
Reframing aging and the experience
What I’m choosing to do is reframe my ideas about aging and give myself credit for traveling to Colombia, solo–that is, for actually doing it. Many people are afraid of the country, which is much safer than the press wants you to believe, and it has so much to offer. I’m happy I finally went after wanting to for so many years.
So, it was a great trip, despite some of the moments I described above. Fortunately, they were few and far between. There were many more that were incredible, enjoyable and unforgettable. In some way, now that I’m looking back, I feel I appreciate it all even more .
Your Thoughts/Feelings/Reactions
Are you a traveler somewhere between 35 and 55–or maybe 55 to 75–who can relate to some of my experiences?
Have you experienced moments of ‘feeling older’? If so, where and why? What happened? Was it for physical or emotional reasons? Was it about the people you met? Did you choose accommodations that cater to younger travelers (e.g., a hostel)?
Where do you typically travel to, by the way? Perhaps if you tend to go to Europe and stay in mid-range hotels, I would think you’re encountering older travelers. Just a thought.
PS: I dedicate this post to Mike Hinshaw, aka, the Nomadic Texan–a fellow travel blogger and cool dude who often refers to me as ‘young lady.’ I love you for doing this, Mike. Please continue.