Hi everyone,

If you’re receiving this email, it’s because you either wanted updates about my trip or because I decided you should be in the loop even if you don’t want to be 😜. If you can think of anyone else who would want to be included, let me know. And vice versa—if you want to get off of this list, tell me. I won’t be offended! Also, I’m sending this from an iPad, so if it looks weird, sorry in advance. 

I’ve been thinking about the best way to update everyone about my travels. And that means I’ve been brainstorming blog names. One option on deck right now is “Sweaty Bangs” because Colombia is truly not cooperating with my hair. But I think that’s just one piece of the larger story, which is really all about “The Jankiest Journey.” So, welcome to the blog—true to form, it’s actually an email because I. am. janky. 

A little over a week in, and the jank is already very real. But first, Colombia. I spent about nine days in Cartagena, and it’s been absolutely awesome. Colorful. Captivating. And caliente. Muy caliente. It’s so hot here, you sweat through your clothes in about a minute. I’ve already finished the bottle of sunscreen I hoped would last me until Ecuador. I’m guzzling water like a car burns through gas. And two days into the trip my phone decided it didn’t like the heat and humidity too much, either. 

Amidst all of Maddie’s incredible wedding festivities, including a welcome drinks event complete with a mariachi band, an all-day catamaran boat trip to practically untouched islands off the coast, and a reception that could have been featured on the pages of Vogue, my phone seriously shit the bed. Especially frustrating because I had just replaced the screen after accidentally cracking it (more than it already was) a day before my departure. Now, every time I turned it on, a thermometer icon would pop up with a scary-looking warning that said my iPhone had become too hot, and I needed to wait for it to cool off. (Fortunately, it resurrected itself partially on Saturday, so I was able to take some photos of the big day). 

To complicate matters, I had not yet signed into my iCloud on my parents’ iPad. But having this extra device calmed my nerves. I figured I could communicate via iPad while determining the best course of action to take with my phone. Right? Wrong. Thanks to Apple’s two-factor authentication set up, each time I tried to sign in to the iPad with my Apple ID, the system would send a confirmation code to verify my identity. Where was it sent? To my phone … which I couldn’t access. Cool. 

For a few days, I was on the struggle bus—coordinating with friends like people must have pre-technology (“Meet at this bar at 6, and if you don’t see me, I’ll call you from the hotel’s landline”), and unable to document anything about this beautiful city because my phone (and, therefore, camera), was out of commission.

And it got worse. After cabbing to the nearest mall and talking to an incredibly helpful Mac Center rep, I learned that their team couldn’t repair my phone in the short time I had before leaving for my next destination. And even though almost everything is cheaper in Colombia, Apple products most certainly are not. Roughly $870 American dollars would get me a new iPhone 8 (only one version up) with just half the storage. Since I’ve been trying to survive on $50 a day, this news wasn’t exactly a relief. At Samsung, the prognosis was better, but still not ideal. A new, non-Apple phone would run me approximately $250, and they could “most likely” transfer my data over. But, thankfully, there was one option left. Safid, the lovely Mac Center salesman, had a friend: Alvaro Mendoza, also known as Papi. “Go to the centro commercial in the Getsemani neighborhood on Tuesday,” Safid told me. “Papi has a stand there. He will help you.” 

Ultimately, the story ends positively. A brief window of functionality allowed me to access my phone, so I could sign into my iCloud and use the iPad. (God bless free WiFi). Papi came through, spending a full day testing each part of my phone and reconnecting all of them to the screen correctly, fixing a mistake the original technician had made back in New Jersey. And I emerged with a newfound confidence—empowered after navigating a foreign city alone and without the Internet, and proud of my ability speak enough Español to adequately explain my problems and get them resolved. 

It’s ironic—experiencing this inconvenience so early on was actually one of the best things that could have happened. The jank pushed me out of my comfort zone. The jank forced me to face my stress and anxiety head on. The jank (and Papi, because I’m eternally grateful for that man) set me up for success. 

Less than a week later, I’m back. Back online. Back in action. And ready for more back-to-back adventures. Stay tuned for updates from Santa Marta and Salento, and a few Instagram photos whenever I have enough time to sit down, filter, and think up cute captions (you all know I’m 80 years old when it comes to social media—but I’m doing my best!). And if you read this far, thanks for sticking with me ☺️

Miss you guys mucho, mucho, mucho! Besos! 

Love,

Caroline