Slow Travel

My first big trip overseas was two months in Thailand. Somewhere in the middle of that, a series of scheduling issues, including a friend from China coming to meet up with me, led to my spending ten days in Bangkok. Several people have told me I’m crazy for spending that much time in such a big city, but the experience taught me a lot about staying in one place and witnessing regular life in a foreign land. I ate shawarma almost daily in the Arabic quarter, wandered through the massive complex of the five story Pantip computer mall, and saw teens doing exactly what I had done in school–going to movies, and just hanging out. I spent hours each day just walking the streets and observing the everyday lives of those going through their daily routines of opening shops or going to the office.

Last summer in Chile, Sarah and I spent five days in the capital of Santiago doing much the same thing. At first the city seemed cold and awkward, but we quickly settled into the ebb and flow of the holiday closures and seemingly odd business hours, walking here and there, and finding things we might not have had time for in only two or three days. One of my favourite memories from that trip is of the afternoon we walked several kilometers through town to find the large old cemetery. We ambled through the tombs and monuments for hours, marveling at the beauty of the structures built to honour the memories of the families buried below.

Here in Tamarindo, I’m engaging in one of the slowest forms of travel possible, the extended stay. My life has fallen into a regular routine. If the tides are working in the morning and afternoon, I’ll rise around 7:00 and go out to surf for two hours. After a shower to rinse off the salt water, I’ll head to one of the nearby restaurants for breakfast, and spend a leisurely hour or more eating and drinking coffee. By now it’s hot, very hot, and to escape the intense heat at mid-day I’ll probably wind up parked on the bench outside my room to read in the shade for another hour or two. I may go for a walk through town to run errands or just explore, but sometimes I just lounge the afternoon away. By 4:00 the sun has lost some of it’s power, and the tide will be rising again, so I’ll hit the beach for another surf, coming in after watching the sun set from out in the water. Another shower, dinner, and by 8:00 I’m back at my room to read or do a bit of writing.

Most of the restaurants have wireless internet, and I’ll often bring my small computer to chat with Sarah, or to write a few emails and browse some of my favourite websites. It’s not uncommon for people to respond to my emails with “what are you doing on the computer? You’re in Costa Rica! You should be out doing something!” The reality is that I have just as much free time as anyone back home does, if not far more. In a small town like this, there is a limit to how often you can walk through the shops, or wander up and down the long stretch of beach. The same thing occurred in South America this past summer, and I had to wonder what people thought I should be doing all day. After eight or nine hours of walking through a city or touring churches and historical sites, I’d get a bit of internet time to upload photos or write emails, and I was getting the same sort of responses. There is a limit to how much living one can do in any given day. Here in Tamarindo, I may spend two hours online to escape the noon sun now and then, but I’m doing so with a cup of coffee in hand and a clear view of the beach from an open-air restaurant.

If circumstances force me to do so, I’ll go out and hit the sights every day and wring every last bit of fun and adventure from a short trip, but given the chance, I’ll take my time and move slowly from one place to the next. I’d rather leave a few things out than rush through every day trying to cram in every temple and museum I can find.

What about you? Are you happy to have spent a day in a city and consider it done, or do you feel you need months just to get to know a place?