Ownership (Colombia & Panama)

I’ll be completely honest,

I got bored in Colombia.

I had been on the northern coast for about 3 weeks and I was getting restless. I had been looking forward to surfing in Palomino for over a year. When I was on the Pacific coast of Panama in 2017, I met a local who grew up in Colombia. You have to go to Palomino, he told me as we sat watching the beach break curl along the shore of Playa Venao. He gave me a green macrame bracelet and I made a mental note of his recommendation.

Play Venao in low tide

I didn’t make it to Palomino (hereby known as Palo) that trip, but I was sure to get there this time.

After several scorching hot and rather uneventful days in Cartagena and Santa Marta, via the tranquil jungle mountains of Minca, I finally made it to the laid back tourist town of Palo. I felt like I hadn’t done much other than party apart from my three days hiking and disconnecting in Minca. And I was happy to get back to a normal routine.

Casas Viejas, a 2 hour walk above Minca

Sunsets in Minca overlooking the mountains and coast

I got to Palo expecting it to be my favourite part of the trip. I planned to spend about three weeks there before stopping off in New York on my way to Europe and Asia.

I stayed a week. I never surfed once. The waves were messy and the current unforgivingly strong. I sighed, exasperated. I had met a lot of people I wished to travel with longer, but I was at the end of my journey as it were.

Palomino beach

Frustrated, I booked a ticket to Panama.

I could never have imagined I’d be back so soon.

This time the Caribbean coast was getting its usual rainy season swell, which I had missed by a few weeks in 2017. I ventured back to Cartagena where my flight was leaving. Not thrilled to see Carta again, I spent one night in Taganga to avoid a night in Colombia’s most overpriced city.

I departed the morning of what would be yet another Cartagenian day without electricity.

I landed in Panama City in the afternoon and by 6pm I was on a bus to Bocas del Toro. 6am I was on a ferry to the islands. By 8am I checked into my hostel.

Yes, I was tired.

Tourists stroll in the heat of Cartagena’s colourful Getsemani neighborhood

I spent the last weeks of my trip working. I was volunteering at a hostel and doing social media marketing for a local surf shop. Oddly, I was thoroughly enjoying it. I say oddly because social media and marketing in general were occupations I've held in the past but never quite enjoyed. For the most part it came to me intuitively but didn't get my juices flowing. This got me wondering why I was suddenly so enthusiastic about increasing user impressions for a local business when I couldn't even be bothered to do so for my own page.

Serious addictions of the highest order

I started thinking about ownership. In my last serious career I began to lose enthusiasm for my work when I felt I lacked ownership in my projects. I was beginning to feel like the ole screw and bolt of a system that could do just as well without me. I loved my job, in theory, but in reality it didn't stimulate me because I know that the work I was doing would eventually trace back to some higher power and not me. The less I owned it, the more disconnected I felt.

Now I haven't done an inkling of research on this so this is pure drivel, but as I gnawed on this idea further I began to believe that contrary to what we'd expect, human beings like - no, need- responsibility. We gravitate towards it. Responsibility gives us meaning. I was enjoying my new work not because of the work itself or the dudes at the surf shop were super chill or the hostel was filled with good vibes, but because I was responsible for the changes or lack of changes I could or would affect. And that's a good feeling, even when you fail.

You learn, hopefully, what not to do next time.

Here I was gravitating away from responsibility this entire time- unable to commit to anyone or anything, to the level of not even being able to say which side of the planet I’d like to end up on, when I got pitted by reality. And reality isn't bad. Reality is responsibility in the form of day to day meaning. Something you can wake up to and not be absolutely miserable, and how can you be miserable when you know you and your actions matter? You feel important. And when you feel important in any kind of way, you feel good.

But why are we this way? Why are we inherently drawn to the feeling of ownership?

It kind of makes sense. Think back 7,000 years ago. If you were helping build a house for someone else- say, your cousin or best hunting buddy, sure, you might have the satisfaction of seeing them smile at the end of construction, but you won't have any real tangible benefit from it would you? You would have spent a fair amount of energy and time on something that brings you little or no tangible return. That energy is food. And likely water. Both of which you'd probably have to expend additional energy to acquire, via hunting or gathering. Your precious time and calories now wasted on helping in a home building project would have to be resourced again. We even use ownership on a regular basis "treat this space as if it's your own" shows up often while traveling. Why do we need to own something in order to treat it well? Can't we just treat it well without being told to imagine it's ours? Well, we'd like to pretend so, but the truth is when we're told to imagine something as our own, we automatically care for it more. Because if we don't own it, the result of our impact on it are of little or no consequence to us unless there is a punishment for bad treatment (like a fine for littering) or a reward for treating it well (like getting paid to help build your Neanderthal friend's house). And this concept of happiness via ownership or responsibility probably goes across the board, not just for career choices or prehistoric huts.

Bocas del Toro; kids play on the beach

Two weeks passed by without blinking an eye. Every day I spent in the water was the heavenly hell my masochistic heart and body had longed for. I tried my best to improve my environment. I made connections I could not have anticipated. I walked barefoot, everywhere, all the time. (On principle, I couldn’t be bothered with another pair of flip flops that would break a day later). I danced without ever looking up. And then it was time. Leg one of my journey around the world was coming to an end.

I sat on the surprisingly comfortable Panamanian bus on the way to Panama City with some hop-on hop-off vendor of the kind I'd seen 100 times on buses throughout South America, and realized I HAVE been running away from responsibility and ownership, and that - not my journey, not my career, not the places I've lived, nor the men I've date, or the friends I left behind, or my family’s criticism- is the reason that I haven't felt content.

And while going to travel would in a sense seem like I'm taking responsibility for my life and grabbing the bull by the horns, I hadn't felt like I have an impact in months. I hadn't properly owned anything. And that's a problem. That's running away. Not having any responsibilities what so ever, or any desire to build them, will make you feel meaningless. I also came to the realization that perhaps it's ok not to want my next career to be completely independent. It’s ok to be unsure. It’s ok to have a plan A, B and C, or no plan at all. I didn’t NEED to strap myself in for another climb on the corporate ladder just as I didn't NEED my own business in order to have ownership on something that matters to me. Contrary to all the books I'd been reading, it's ok to not be an entrepreneur at the age of 25. It's ok not to be an entrepreneur ever.

But whatever you are, own it.

#southamerica #colombia #panama #surfing #beach #solotravel #backpacking #femalebackpacker #solofemaletravel #life