During my travels in South America, I collected some interesting stories. Some of them might help you avoid getting robbed, while others are simply inspiring.
“Please, Can You Watch My Stuff?”
This story happened to two girls travelling in Colombia. They were leaving their hostel, so everything was packed in their backpacks. One of the girls went to the bathroom and asked her friend to keep an eye on her bag. When she came back, the bag was gone—even though her friend had never left the room. What happened? Someone pretending to stay at the hostel grabbed the bag as if it were his, right in front of her buddy.
“It Was Right Next to Me”
A couple was travelling to the Amazon and sat on a comfortable bus with their bags next to them. You know how it is on a long trip; they fell asleep to get some rest. The surprise came when they woke up and discovered that one of their bags had disappeared.
“I’m Close to My Accommodation”
One guy had a great night out, enjoying the company of new friends. He was close to his hostel and decided to walk back instead of taking a taxi, even though many people had warned him about how dangerous the city could be at night. As he was nearly there, someone approached him, asked for his phone, and then ran away with it. The city? Cali.
From anywhere to Venezuela in December
I was on this bus, just another traveller heading back to my country after many days on the road. We all met at the bus station in Bogotá, sharing the same destination: first Cúcuta, then Venezuela. Some people had big, colourful bags, others just old suitcases. Most were carrying clothes, gadgets to sell, or gifts for their families.
I struck up a conversation with the girl next to me. She told me she had moved to Peru and was living in a poor area of Lima. “People often call me a prostitute just because I’m Venezuelan,” she confided. This was her fifth day of travelling, having arranged a long journey from Lima to Barquisimeto. Despite the exhausting trip, she was determined to see her family for Christmas.
Once at the border, everyone finds their way to cross. Most people arrange for a private taxi since it’s the safest option to avoid being robbed by Venezuelan guards or gangs along the way. It’s the best way to protect everything they worked so hard to bring back home.
You are not my friend
I was waiting on a tiny bus when a street vendor persistently tried to sell me ice cream. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he finally gave up and moved on. A few minutes later, some locals boarded the bus, and a woman dressed beautifully in traditional clothes sat next to me. I felt this strong urge to talk to her, curious about her dress and her lifestyle.
After the bus departed, I finally found the confidence to speak to her. I soon realised she didn’t speak Spanish—only Quechua. Still, she understood that I was curious about her dress and tried to ask me where I was from and why I was travelling alone.
Our little exchange caught the attention of other passengers. A Peruvian man started asking me questions, and when I mentioned that I was half Venezuelan, his tone changed. He began making comments about how beautiful Venezuelan girls are and how nice they are.
I tried to steer the conversation in another direction, but he kept asking more uncomfortable questions about why I was travelling alone and offering weird suggestions on how he could help. Then he moved to sit behind me and started touching my shoulder.
I felt so uncomfortable that I shifted away and told him I didn’t like how things were going. He got defensive, saying, “I’m married with kids,” as if that made everything okay.