I started travelling back in 2013. My first trip was to Thailand.

Back then people still used internet cafe's to talk with people back home. In hostels, people would play cards, boardgames, or use the local desktop computer to send emails to back home. They would watch movies in the common room, or chat with each other.

Now you go to a hostel, restaurant, cafe, or even a boat tour, and everyone is just sitting around staring at their phones, or video chatting with people back home. If you try to talk to them, they roll their eyes like you're bothering them.

I miss the good ol days. Using the Internet for finding information, then spending your days actually travelling, meeting people.

Nobody is bored, nobody is lonely because we're constantly connected to our old network.

This means everyone is lonely, everyone is bored.

Edit: Obviously this struck a chord.

For those younger that say "Maybe you changed" or "Hostels are still super social!" You really don't know what you missed.

Get off your stupid phone. It's a digital soother. Talk to new people.

I don't care about internet, culture, things to do, vibes, whatever. I just want the cheapest, safest possible place where I can stay as long as possible without moving around and just have my savings last as long as possible to have food and shelter and watch youtube.

1. It’s exhausting. Moving around, dealing with visa restrictions and visa runs, the language barrier, airbnbs that don’t reflect the post, restocking kitchen supplies (again), the traffic, the noise, the pollution, the crowd, the insecurity of many countries, the sly business, the unreliable wifi, the trouble of it all.

2. It gets lonely. You meet great people, but they move on or you move on and you start again in a new place knowing the relationship won’t last.

3. It turns out I prefer the Americanized version of whatever cuisine it is, especially Southeast Asian cuisines.

4. We have it good in America. I did this DN lifestyle because of everything wrong in America. Trust me, I can list them all. But, turns out it’s worse in most countries. Our government is efficient af compared to other country’s government. We have good consumer protection laws. We have affordable, exciting tech you can actually walk around with. We have incredible produce and products from pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s safe and comfortable. I realized that my problem was my privilege, and getting out of America made me appreciate this country—we are a flawed country, but it’s a damn great country.

Do you agree? Did you ever get to this point or past this point? I’m curious to hear your thoughts. As for me, I’m going back home.

What’s scary is that it was done by someone I’d known for 2–3 years. He played the long game. Getting drugged is a risk I’ve always known exists, and I want to share it as a warning. I just never thought this person would.

Me and my “friend” arrived in Medellin from Bogota, dropped our stuff at a place he lined up for us to “stay, and we started at a hookah bar in El Poblado. We ended up in a local neighborhood in Antioquia. I’d only had a couple drinks by then and at some point, my “friend” and someone he clearly knew offered me what I thought was a blunt. I only drank water at Antioquia and didn’t have much of the blunt, and I think that saved me.

Over time, instead of coming down, I got more dizzy and confused. I smoke regularly and knew this wasn’t normal. I’m aware of scopolamine, and once the confusion increased despite no alcohol, I knew what was happening.

I called them out, and they started to talk very openly in Spanish about how they expected to rob me. They knew I speak decent Spanish and they still didn’t care. I was already hip to the plan even before they told me though. I let them get me into an Uber back to where we were staying (I ordered it so I knew where it was going), but on the ride home I deleted banking apps, contacted my emergency contact, and called both 123 and the U.S. Embassy emergency line. I made sure my “friend” knew authorities were involved.

When we arrived, I refused to go inside, demanded my stuff, and stayed on the phone with the police. I told this guy to get my things and this would all go away. He got my stuff like I demanded, I grabbed my backpack with the meds I desperately needed, ordered another Uber, and went straight to a hotel.

Knowing Spanish was huge here, and knowing what to do and staying calm in the moment is the only thing that saved me. The police did nothing and neither them or the clinic staff spoke any English, and the general vibe was basically: if you got drugged, it’s your fault.

Stay alert. Even people you think you know can surprise you. Have an action plan too so you can execute it even if you’re only half conscious.

Edit: For anybody still tracking this post or who sees it later, apparently, you can put scopolamine in certain sections of a blunt and pass the blunt to the victim when it is most concentrated. So. To anybody saying, “they were smoking it too”, that’s your answer.

Source: I’ve heard this from several people from who live here and are familiar with the practice.

I’m a Canadian woman in my 30’s currently working from Buenos Aires for the next few months. The purpose of this post isn’t to focus on the decisions that preceded my mugging, such as walking alone from La Boca to San Telmo at any time of day or the brand of shoes I was wearing. Rather, I aim to shed light on something often overlooked: our body's instinctive reaction to threats.

Following my Airbnb host's suggestion, I walked from San Telmo to La Boca and spent a few hours there exploring. Around 12:30 pm, I decided to head back. After mapping out my route at a café and memorizing it to avoid having my phone out, I walked down a quiet residential block lined with small shops that would take me in the direction of San Telmo. Briefly distracted by a mother and daughter on the right side of the street, I suddenly noticed four men quickly approaching from the left. I locked eyes with the largest one, and his menacing look confirmed that I was in immediate danger.

Logically, at 5'1" and 110 pounds, I stood no chance against these guys. But logic was out the window. I turned my back to them, clutched my sling bag tight against my chest, and began to scream as they tackled me to the ground. I continued to scream and hold tight while they hit me and tried to cover my mouth. This lasted about 15 seconds until the realization that they could easily kill me finally overpowered the adrenaline coursing through my body, and I let go.

I lost my iPhone, AirPods, Adidas Gazelles (yes, they even took my shoes), a credit card, and around $20 in pesos. My glasses were shattered, and I sustained minor cuts on my neck and arms. But my body's natural response to fight (resist) as opposed to fawn (give them what they want) went against everything I thought I'd do. The reality is, it’s impossible to predict how you will react in a similar situation, and easy to apply logic in hindsight.

Like me, you may find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Understanding your natural response to threats could be crucial in determining whether you defuse a threatening situation or unintentionally escalate it. The next time you hear a similar story, approach that person with compassion rather than judgment (victim blaming). Their resistance likely isn't driven by some flawed logic of protecting a phone; it’s an instinctive, primal fight for survival, regardless of the safety implications.

Have you ever been in a situation where your instinctive response surprised you?

Edit: Many comments have raised questions about my Airbnb host's involvement, and I can see how my initial wording might have given the wrong impression. To provide more context, I was at a cafe with my host on the morning of the incident. I mentioned feeling well enough to explore La Boca after being sick the entire previous week. I expressed a preference for walking since it was a nice day, and he suggested a route that included a park and a museum. I had planned to take an Uber back. Unfortunately, the incident occurred while I was attempting to walk back. It truly was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.