Ren said it almost as a throwaway thought. We were having a conversation after his redundancy and he said, “should we go travelling?” What he really meant was ‘shall we go travelling South America on a budget?!’
My instinctive answer, was no.
Not a dramatic no. Not a thought-out no. Just a reflexive, practical, this-isn’t-how-life-works kind of no. There was my youngest (19) still at home. My mum lived nearby. There was my job. We had a mortgage, responsibilities, a contented life. No was the only sensible answer. How could we go travelling South America on a budget. I didn’t think we could even have a budget and we had life and responsibilities.
And then he said it again.
The Catalyst
We started watching Race Across the World — the South America series. And I found myself sitting there thinking: that looks really cool. Like, really cool. Not in a wistful, maybe one day far in the future it would be nice, that’s for other people kind of way. In a proper, stirring, something-shifting kind of way.
If you haven’t seen it, the premise is simple: pairs of travellers cross a continent with no flights, a limited budget, and no smartphones. They take buses, hitch rides, sleep wherever they can afford, eat local food. It’s travel stripped right back, and watching it you get this very clear picture of what it actually looks and feels like to move through a place rather than just tick it off by flying in and out again.
That was the bit that got me. Not the race element — that’s not us at all, I’ll tell you that for free. But the moving through a place. The buses. The small towns. The connections with people along the way. The change of landscape. The appreciation of nature and architecture. We watched those contestants and thought: we could do that. Not like that exactly — our own version, our own way, our own pace — but the feeling of it, yes. Absolutely yes.
Travelling South America on a Budget Without the Race Element…maybe just maybe.
When you remove the race element in your mind and add the phones back in, it all starts to feel a bit more doable and dare I say it, exciting. I got this feeling of ‘well maybe we could do it. We’d be able to research things on our phones, we’d have Google Translate and Maps’. I almost started to feel smug about the added tech benefit we’d have over the racers on the TV.
I’d spent the whole of that year saying yes to things that scared me. I’d done the world’s fastest zip wire (badly). Surprisingly, I’d worn the sequins to my party and danced on a huge stage. I’d built the muscle, even if I hadn’t quite named it that yet. And when Ren said it another time, the “no” was softer. It didn’t land with the same certainty it had before.
So, we started talking about the possibilities. The conversation went from no, to maybe, to what if, to how. Before we even broached the subject with family, we had to see if it was financially viable — no point floating an idea if we couldn’t afford it.
Our Numbers for Travelling South America on a budget
Here’s the bit people always want to know, and I’ll be honest with you because honesty is the whole point — we didn’t have a big pot of savings or inheritance sitting there. We didn’t want to burn through the redundancy pay-out. So we looked at what we had — the house, the bricks and mortar that we had worked hard to purchase, and the home that we had created. Then the penny-dropping moment when we realised that the simple task of renting our home could be the way forward.
The rental income would generate £58 a day.
Right. So the house could be rented out. Which meant we needed somewhere for our stuff.
We looked into storage units. Of course we did — it seemed like the obvious answer. And then we looked at the prices, and the obvious answer became a very fast no, as it would have taken a third of the house rental income.
So again we looked at what we had. The garage.
It is attached to the house, but we didn’t have to rent it with the property. Would all of our possessions fit into a small single garage, probably not. So again we looked at what we had, and in this instance it was options — we would be able to offer the house “part furnished”, so the big items — sofas and dining table — could remain in the house. Our stuff would still be technically there, twenty feet from the tenants, behind a locked garage door. It’s quite funny when you say it out loud, but it was a simple solution that made the numbers work.
In South America, where the cost of living is significantly lower than the UK, £58 per day could be possible (we hoped). Not comfortable. Nothing flash. No fancy excursions. No cushion. But viable. Just about viable, if we were careful, if we were smart about it, and if we made wise choices.
Then came the really tough bit for me — family — everything that I love, hold dear, value and appreciate.
The Family Conversations
Finances are easy compared to strong emotional ties.
No two conversations were the same, they evolved and changed. They were raw and powerful.
Initial excitement, intrigue and pride. Then realities, practicalities and logistics. Then apprehension, fear and sadness.
These weren’t conversations where I got to just announce the plan and everyone clapped. There were real feelings involved, real concerns, real big adjustments that other people had to make because of MY choices.
My daughter — nineteen at the time — went to live full time with her dad while we were away. Practically, that was the arrangement. Emotionally, it was more complicated than that. She had really big feelings about us going, which I comprehend far more now that I am back. Those are her feelings, not mine to detail here, but I want to be honest that they existed — because glossing over the fact that a decision like this has a ripple effect on the people around you would be doing me and my daughter a disservice.
Big brave decisions don’t happen in a vacuum. They land in the middle of other people’s lives. You have to be able to hold and support those lives.
Words of advice — it is very hard to travel with emotional baggage, as it continues to get heavier.
What I will say is this: I didn’t make the decision lightly, and I didn’t make it selfishly. I made it because I’d realised — in my 50th year, relatively late in my life — that waiting for the perfect moment to live more fully was a strategy that was never going to pay off. The perfect moment doesn’t come. It has to be made.
Trust The Process
Here’s the thing that still makes me laugh when I say it out loud. We booked the flights before we had a tenant confirmed.
I know. I know. But the flights needed to be booked in advance to get decent prices and to use air miles, and we’d reached the point where we’d decided — properly decided. So, we booked them. Buenos Aires we’re coming to get you. And then we found the tenant.
That’s the order it happened in. Was it sensible? No. Did it work out? Yes. At some point you just have to make the decision and trust the process, even when the ducks aren’t in a row. Have you ever seen a family of ducks that actually walks in a row? No. So why would you expect it to happen?
My Time To Fly
Over the course of about five months we went from ‘no’, to ‘taking off!’ No single dramatic moment where we looked at each other and said right, we’re doing this. It was more like a slow accumulation of yeses. One conversation at a time.
We packed everything we owned into the garage, stacked floor to ceiling in boxes that we wouldn’t open for a year.
I packed a 40ltr carry-on backpack, without a single ‘outfit’, one necklace, no makeup, no luxuries. Simple basic clothing that would suit all climates. Leaving behind the expectations I’d placed on myself, ready to embrace the unexpected with an open mind and the courage to flourish.
The Trip That Grew
Our trip was in two distinct parts because, prior to any thoughts of travel, we had already committed to a family engagement in Barcelona. Buenos Aires was our start and end point for part one — five months. Part two started in Lima, and at the time of booking flights had no end date or destination.
We planned for twelve months. We were gone for fourteen.
Because that’s the other thing nobody tells you: when you’re out there and it’s going well, there’s so much to experience and the budget was balancing, why would we rush home. We extended. The flexibility of having no fixed day-by-day itinerary meant that when something was good, we could stay longer. When something didn’t work, we could leave sooner.
Also, if you’re from the UK, you’ll know that returning in grey, murky, dreary January didn’t hold any appeal. And Rio Carnival is in February, where the sun would be shining and we could be in the thick of the world’s greatest party. Luckily for us, we asked our tenants if they wanted to stay for longer and they did! We know we were incredibly lucky with our tenants in many ways, but also it shows it’s doable. If we can do it, you might just be able to too.
Just Enough for Travelling South America on a budget
Lots of people have told me that they think I am brave, and I always feel a bit funny about that, because I don’t think we were particularly brave. I think we were just at a point where the impact of not doing it had started to feel heavier than the impact of doing it, for us.
Ren had been made redundant. That’s not nothing. When that happens, there’s a window — a weird, uncomfortable window — where the normal script is on pause and something else becomes possible. We stepped into that window.
Our families had faith in us. The rental income gave us a mechanism. The garage gave us the practicality. The twelve months of saying yes to small things in my 50th year gave me the nerve. Race Across the World, honestly, gave us the vision of what it could actually look like.
None of those things alone would have been enough. All of them together were just enough.
Next in the series: we get into who we actually were as travellers — and who we very much weren’t. Not nomads. Not backpackers. Certainly not adrenaline junkies (you may have picked that up from the zip wire in Wales). Not gap-year kids. Our way, our rules, our pace.
I’m Ruth — contributor to Love Life More and voice behind the Slow Across South America series. You can follow along on my Facebook page here.
Remember, loving life more isn’t about perfection or having all the answers. It’s about remaining open to growth and finding joy in the journey, wherever it leads you.
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What would it take for you to say yes to something you’ve been quietly putting off? I’d love to hear in the comments.
More from the Slow Across South America series
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