We expected the final week of our family gap year — in a small Costa Rican beach town — to be simple and uneventful. It was anything but.
A mugger cut me off on a solitary street in Cali, Colombia. This is the story of how I got away and what I could have done differently.
We visited Colombia first in 2013, when tourism was still in its infancy. In following visits we witness the country’s transformation (mostly) for the better.
We expected our time in Bolivia to be a cultural experience. But we didn’t expect to be immersed in dog society — or an emerging brand of green conservatism.
A child battles altitude sickness as we arrive at the Argentine-Bolivian border bridge without a visa. This is a story about the lowest point of our gap year.
This is a story about how a simple bureaucratic formality can snowball into a saga of false steps, bad options, and some high stakes cajoling.