Over the last ten years there has been an evolution in our travel style. Before our first adventure, we were advised to work a little longer and save more money before heading out on a round-the-world trip. That felt like a trap from which we may never escape. So we set off on an epic journey through four continents, subsisting on cans of tuna fish and sleeping in the rental car and on trains because we couldn’t afford it any other way.

Successive backpacking trips trended towards guesthouse beds and cheap restaurants, still at the change your clothes or change your location breakneck pace. Then with aching backs and a combined income, our daydreams turned from Rough Guides to craigslist. We wanted to get under the surface of a place rather than tick off the highlights in one day.

Now, travelling with a small child, there’s really no other way to do it. Pick a place, scour Air B&B, unpack once and make yourself at home.

Yet we are venturing a bit further afield from the historic center: to the less polished Getsemani neighborhood, the city beach at Bocagrande and even Playa Blanca, a good hour away by hippie backpacker shuttle (with AC though, we’re not crazy).

But meeting that shuttle at the hostel, I perused the onward destination menu that any good backpacker mecca provides. Sailing trips to Panama, treks to the Lost City, an ever expanding chain of buses that could eventually take you all the way to the end of the continent.

Who am I kidding? I can still daydream like a backpacker.