The coming of age is a tradition unlike any other. It's deeply rooted in the human experience, as is shown by the fact that the idea has pervaded disparate cultures throughout history — from the ancient Spartans to the modern Inuits. Each developed its own set of rituals to mark the transition into adulthood. Some tribes hunt lions, others get stung by bullet ants. Sadly, however, in a majority of the world, with exception of a few cultures, these ritualistic traditions have been all but forgotten.

I was soon to graduate from university and I wanted to do something to commemorate my coming of age. I was brainstorming different things until it finally hit me… my last name is Clark — like William Clark. The William Clark, who made up one-half of the greatest American exploration duo, Lewis and Clark. With this in mind, I knew I couldn't let my (hopefully) great-great-grandfather down. So, I decided I would explore the world.

Up until this point, I’d never left the mono-culture of Canada/America; therefore, I wanted to change that. In the spirit of William Clark, I wanted to explore someplace that was completely foreign to me. I wanted to be well out of my comfort zone and South America was the perfect place for that. I decided I would do a two-month solo backpacking trip through Peru, Bolivia, Brazil, Argentina, and Chile (in hindsight, it was wishful thinking to assume I could thoroughly explore five countries in just two months as I only went to Peru and Bolivia). With my destinations laid out, it was time for me to create the “Ultimate Backpack Trip Extravaganza — South American version” itinerary.

After finishing it, my excitement was through the roof. I began telling friends and family all about my plan — I cannot tell you the number of times I was told I’m insane for wanting to go to South America alone. In fact, a good amount of people I discussed it with even made it a point to let me know that I would surely be getting robbed or kidnapped. After hearing it repeated so many times, I started to believe it; I began having second thoughts about going. However, ultimately, I concluded that if anything like that were to happen to me, then that would suck but I would just have to figure it out. I even reached the point where I accepted the fact that I’d get robbed and I was fine with it because “it’s all part of the experience baby.” I planned to take my precautions, of course; I bought a fake phone and planned to carry it with me at all times…

Three days into the trip, I realized my ignorance — my worries were nonsensical. I stopped carrying the fake phone and lowered my defenses. Throughout my seven weeks, not a single bad thing happened to me. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the Andean people were some of the nicest people I’ve ever encountered. Their culture is such that if I had any questions or needed directions, then I could ask any person on the street and they would make it their duty to help me (with some exceptions of course). Overall, it was very welcoming, and at no point did I feel like I was in danger. The widely held view of South America being extremely dangerous is outdated and overblown, it needs to be revisited. Obviously, there are dangerous places but you simply avoid those as you would anywhere else.

The thing I was most pleasantly surprised about was the culture of the fellow travelers. It was amazing to see so many like-minded people, of all ages, from all around the world come together and so easily get along. I can recall hanging out in groups where the youngest was 18 and the oldest was 45, but we all could still get along seamlessly. So many times, did I meet someone that I connected with so well only for us to separate after a short period and never see each other again. These friendships you create while traveling have an interesting dynamic to them, it’s almost as if they’re sped up. All the baggage, all the vulnerability, everything is just immediately laid out on the table. Then, poof, they’re gone. I knew someone for only two hours before they started talking to me about their failed suicide attempts, abusive parents, and more. Then after that, I never saw them again.

On the one hand, my selfish/egotistical side wants to keep these friends with me for the entire trip and thinks that it’s not fair we have to separate. On the other hand, my selfless/loving side accepts the short-lived friendships because it’s what makes them so special — we get to be a part of each other’s lives for a little while, creating lasting memories, before we go back on our marry journeys. It’s analogous to life, the thing that makes it so beautiful is the fact that you know it has to end.

On this trip, I learned a lot, about myself and life. There were two main points that I took from it 1) Life is too short not to spend time enjoying it. Before this trip, my sole focus was to leave behind an intellectual legacy — to contribute a piece of work that would delay the death of my name well past the death of my physical body. It was the classic denial of death that Ernest Becker so elegantly wrote about. But life is so much more than that narcissistic craving; it’s about your memories, your relationships, your contributions, and more. Take the time to enjoy yourself. The status quo of finishing university and immediately starting your grown-up job is utterly insane. To finish 17 years of school, then graduate and only give yourself ~2 weeks to relax before beginning your next chapter is crazy. Relax. Disassociate from the rat race for a little while. Enjoy your life, you only have one. The rest of it will be spent working anyways, so why rush it? 2) Life is too short to hold back your love. While I was in Peru, I did ayahuasca and the biggest thing that I took from it was that it doesn’t cost you a single thing to give people your love; whether the feeling gets reciprocated or not is irrelevant. It benefits no one by being selfish with it and at the very least, giving your love will make the recipient happier. Everyone is worthy no matter what.