Before I went on this trip, I decided I needed a detox from social media. I deleted Snapchat permanently (goodbye, fun dog-tongue filter). I did keep Facebook, simply because so many social events are planned through it—but tried to limit my usage to the weekends. And I deactivated Instagram, the most fun and popular of the apps, for a full seven months.

Being off of Instagram was a nice break. I could, of course, still pop onto the public profiles of some of my favorite accounts (@newyorkercartoons continued to bring levity to my stressful days and checking the @betches feed helped me feel relevant. And, of course, my friends also kept me in the loop … I’m looking at you, Olivia). But generally, no Instagram meant I could avoid seeing how “wonderful” people’s lives were: I was no longer inundated with posts featuring tropical vacations, heartwarming proposals, and cute selfies. I don’t mean to sound like too much of a downer … I usually try to be happy for other people’s happiness. But sometimes when you only see these “perfect” impressions of others, it can make you feel inadequate. Insufficient. Incapable. On the flip side, with my handle on hold, I had to stop curating imagery from my own life to show off to others. The milestones, success stories, and accomplishments that I might have otherwise advertised went unannounced … and the validation that I often crave disappeared with it. When my parents moved out of my childhood home. When I said goodbye to my first New York City apartment after four years. When I ran my sixth half marathon. I couldn’t share these events with the world. And you know what? It was strangely okay to just let these experiences happen—without the dopamine rush that came with the likes and comments. 

My point? I have a weird relationship with social media. I hate it, but I love it. I’m quick to criticize it, but still concede that it provides a lot of benefits. I’m half in, half out. And this relationship became even weirder as I started to travel. 

An indispensable tool

Passport. Phone. Wallet. Instagram. There’s not a lot that you need as a traveler, especially when you’re living out of a backpack, but these some of the necessities that you really can’t do without. I’m not joking. On the road, no matter where you may be, Instagram becomes pretty indispensable. First, it’s a way to show the world that you’re not only still alive—but also living pretty damn well (unlike the seven months that preceded my trip, my life has become infinitely more interesting now … so I can’t help but want to share). Second, it’s your lifeline to everything and everyone back home. If you can’t be a part of the action, you can at least pretend like you are. Like a picture of your friend’s birthday brunch. Double tap the shot of your old coworkers hanging out. Respond to your cousin’s story with a slew of emojis. You’re not *actually* there, but you’re still there in spirit. 

But perhaps the most important aspect of Instagram is its role as social currency. Meet some cool people in the hostel? “Do you have Instagram?” Want to grab a beer with someone from your tour? Message them on Instagram. Just had a great conversation with a stranger you’ll never see again in your life? Follow them on Instagram. In New York, Instagram felt like it distracted me from my own life … maybe I’d spend a night in scrolling through my feed and wishing I was out, or maybe I’d log on at dinner instead of socializing with my friends. But in South America, Instagram enhances my life. It’s helped me reach out to people to I just met and enabled me to stay connected to new contacts. And yes, sometimes it’s pretty futile. Why should I follow Felipe, the guy who I hung out with for just five hours during a Sacred Valley tour? Why do I need to see the social media of Sarah, a girl who I got dinner with from my hostel one night? It’s true—there will likely come a time where I may not even remember who these people are. But, for now, I appreciate the continuity. It’s nice to see what your fellow travelers are up to, even if your paths won’t cross again.

A detrimental distraction

This musing isn’t supposed to be a love letter to Instagram. There are serious drawbacks that come with it, too. For example, Machu Pichuu was spectacular … but it’s splendor became harder to appreciate with thousands of tourists snapping selfies and spending a full 10 minutes trying to get the perfect pic for the ‘gram. Here’s one of the seven wonders of the world, and the only way we can look at it is through our camera lens. Of course, Nick, Maxine, and I were guilty, too—like lemmings, we waited in line with everyone else to take our pictures, to double check them, to make sure their quality was top-notch. But there was something almost a little stressful about this process, and it detracted from the magnificence that we were experiencing in the moment. 

A flawed relationship

This constant push and pull between positive advantages and negative shortcomings of social media isn’t something that’s unique to traveling—but it’s certainly heightened by being on the road. For now, I’lll continue posting at my own pace … and hopefully you’ll still be able to enjoy my adventures, regardless of how delayed they appear. But just remember that Instagram isn’t the whole picture. It’s a highlight reel. If we’re being honest, there are plenty of mundane moments and bad days from my trip that you won’t see. But my promise? I’ll do my best to keep it real with you guys whenever I can.

Adventures from all angles

Missing you all! 

Caroline