Passport Full of Dreams - A travel journal turned into a survival story

It's finally here!

I have put my whole heart into writing this book and I hope that it will bring my readers joy (along with a few tears) and perhaps encourage more people to share their own story. 

My self-help memoir is about traveling, adventure and yoga, falling in love, falling apart, falling down and rising back up.

It would mean the absolute world to me if you wanted to read the book. Part of the royalties will be donated to organisations that support mental health and/or education for young people in Ecuador. 

Please leave a comment or reach out me through social media if you would like to buy a copy.

 

Passport Full of Dreams - A travel journal turned into a story of survival

I left my heart in Quito

It's late at night, we're on a crowded bus and my friends have fallen asleep in their seats, worn out after a long day of hiking. I, on the other hand, keep my eyes wide open because I want to see Quito by night one last time. Driving into this capital in the highlands always makes me feel so happy and peaceful; it's like coming home. Now, it reminds me of the first night I arrived, when it was pitch dark and I had to wait until the next morning to step outside my apartment and see the mountains for the first time. My first week in Quito was one of the happiest in my life. My then love invited me to have breakfast on his balcony and as I sat there wearing his white shirt, trying not to spill while watching the mountains and soaking up the sunshine, I thought... I might be falling in love. 

Mi Quito bonito

How could you not love this city?

The bus driver turns up the volume as another reggeaton song comes on. It's No te vas by Venezuelan singer Nacho and I recognize every word of the lyrics: "De aquí no te vas sin mí, de aquí no me voy sin ti - You will never leave from here without me, I will never leave from here without you." It's the song that my boyfriend used to sing to me while playing with my hair and even though my heart aches from no longer being in that moment and in his arms, I know that I am very blessed to have experienced such love. 

I get back to my apartment which is already half empty and as I pack up the rest of my things, the walls speak to me of all the happy times that I spent here. They also remind me of that one night that I woke up in agonizing pain to watch in horror as my right hand and left foot kept swelling. It was two o'clock in the morning when I reached for the phone with my left hand to ask my friends to take me to the hospital. I knew there and then that something was very wrong and my body hasn't been the same since then. Nor has my life. Learning to live with a chronic disease has changed everything, but not necessarily for the worse. I have learned to have more understanding of those in a similar situation and I hope that I've become more compassionate, towards others as well as myself. 

My goodbye party in Molinuco - La Gran Cascada del Pita 

My phone beeps. My friends are sharing pictures from our hiking trip in the jungle and as I watch them, these adventurous souls that I love so much, I feel nothing but gratitude. There are my colleagues, making silly faces and enjoying a day out in nature. There are my friends who have been by my side all along. And there's one of my first friends that I hadn't seen in so long and when I hugged her today, all the memories of those first days in Quito came back. So much has happened, so much has changed. She sends me a message the next day, saying: "I hope you'll find your way back to being the warrior you once were." 

It hits me then, how much I've changed and how lost I really feel. "I forgot who I am", I whisper to my other friend, the one who knows me best. He puts his arm around me and replies in his gentle way: "Even warriors fall down, amiga. Especially when they get beaten over and over again. But here's the thing - a true warrior always gets back up, no matter how long it takes." 

Guápulo

La Floresta

My last weeks in Quito, I say goodbye to all my favorite places in the city, leaving my footprints and little pieces of my heart in every corner. I stop by at work to clean out my space and enjoy the view of the mountains one last time. I go to Guápulo and La Floresta, my favorite neighborhoods, to take a ton of pictures of the colorful graffiti. I go to the historic center in the south with my first friend in Ecuador and as we manage to sneak into a hidden garden and convince the guard to let us climb up to the church tower after hours, I realize that my favorite memories are of my adventures with her. 

Iglesia San Francisco Garden 

Centro histórico Quito - view of el Panecillo

Finally, I climb to the top of Rucu Pichincha, the first volcano that I climbed in Ecuador and it seems like the circle is full. The adventure has been completed. This is where I'm at my happiest, this is where I say goodbye. Or, as my boyfriend so beautifully put it: "No es una despedida, mi amor, es un hasta luego - It's not goodbye, my love, it's see you later."

Hasta luego - see you later

Make a splash, make a mess

Last week, my friend brought me to one of the biggest waterfalls in Ecuador. It's stunning, yet hardly anyone knows about it. It's hidden in the jungle, far away from civilization. No tourists come here and most Ecuadorians don't seem to be aware of this secluded cascade either.

To reach our destination, we had to drive through the mountains for four hours. It was a rainy day and as we were navigating through the clouds, I couldn't help but think that the outside view looked exactly like the inside of my head. Three months of heavy medication has made my mind so foggy that I honestly don't know what is real and what isn't anymore. I often get lost in my thoughts, or absence of such, and find it difficult to keep up with a conversation. Shadows play tricks on me and sometimes I can't distinguish between genuine feelings and ghostlike emotions.

When we arrived, we parked the car and hiked for about half an hour through the jungle. The thick rainforest surrounding us, we walked on in silence while screeching monkeys jumped from tree to tree. The lush green leaves were still moist from the rain and we gulped down the fresh air as if every inhale were our first (or last). For the first time in a very long time, I could breathe. The knot that's been tied around my throat for the past two months started to loosen and I almost felt like myself again. As we approached the waterfall, we could hear it roaring and once we were standing in front of it, I was amazed. It is hard to believe that something so powerful, and so big, can be kept a secret.

Cascada de San Rafael

On the way back, the sky cleared up a little and a few rays of sunshine managed to break through the clouds. The light, in combination with the fresh air in my lungs, helped defog my mind as well. New thoughts began to take shape and out of nowhere, words came flying to me, begging to be formed into sentences. It has taken me a week to actually put them together but still, that's progress. It means that some of the gloom has lifted and eventually, the rest will dissolve as well.

"Do you need more boyfriend material?", my friend asked as I told him that I've been struggling with a bit of writer's block lately. I slowly shook my head in response. No thanks, I'm done with the drama. Despite the fog, it has become clear to me that I don't need anyone to bring me to the highest mountaintop and take my breath away. What I need is someone who keeps me grounded and allows me to breathe. Love is not about waiting for a knight in shining armor, it's about discovering the one who has a heart of gold hidden underneath. I can climb to the top of a mountain by myself, but I do I need someone to help me keep my feet on the ground when my head is in the clouds. Sharp minds can be intriguing but at the end of the day, I want someone with a bit of softness around the edges. Someone who can be my soft place to fall because I do a lot of that these days.

Maybe the waterfalls really have it all figured out - it seems like a great idea to hide out in nature for a while. Let's go with the flow, roar with excitement, create our own music and finally, make one big splash.

Hippies and other stories

A couple of weeks ago, I was very excited. My friend and I had decided to go to Vilcabamba in the south of Ecuador for the holidays and we were looking forward to four days of hiking, doing yoga and relaxing by the pool. I told my friend that I could hardly believe it - for once we were going on holiday without any drama! I could almost hear the universe laughing in my face as I said it. Yeah, right. 

We had already reserved our accomodation at the beautiful Hostería Izhcayluma so all we needed were the bus tickets, which can normally be bought on the same day or sometimes one day before the actual trip. Since it was a national holiday coming up and we knew that most people would travel, my friend went to the bus station a couple days early to make sure we would have tickets. She was told to come back on Tuesday at 4:30 p.m. So on Tuesday (the day before our trip), I took the two-hour Ecovia ride to Quitumbe station, arriving there at 4 p.m. only to be informed that all tickets to all destinations had been sold out in the morning. Sigh. Welcome to Ecuador! 

Time for plan B. Neither of us had been to Ibarra, a small town about two hours from Quito so we decided to try and get there instead. Buses to Ibarra run every ten minutes and tickets can't be bought in advance. Even so, there was a three-hour wait to get on the bus when we arrived at the station on Thursday afternoon. So we ended up sharing a taxi with two other travelers, which only cost us six dollars more than the bus would have anyway.

We finally arrived in Ibarra just before sunset, happy to have a hostel reservation and Google maps to navigate the streets of La Ciudad Blanca (the white city). Unfortunately, the hostel staff had never heard of us and they had no rooms left. Sigh. Thank you booking.com! By now, it was already dark so we used the hostel's wi-fi to search for hotels online and called the first one we could find. Luckily, it was just around the corner and they offered us a double room each for only $12 per person, including a gorgeous view and soft beds with tons of blankets and pillows. As my friend put it, we spent two heavenly nights sleeping on a cloud.

The next morning, we had breakfast in Olor A Café, a cosy little coffee shop decorated like a library and playing French music. We were served a delicious torta de choclo (corn cake) and as we were leaving, the staff gave us beautifully wrapped meringues and wished us a lovely day. We later learned that this is the most romantic spot in town; it's a popular place for proposals and many anniversaries have been celebrated here.

Feeling energized after our hearty breakfast, we took the local bus to nearby La Esperanza, a small community at the foot of volcano Imbabura. Once there, we knocked on the first door we could find to ask for directions. By chance, we had arrived at Casa Aida, owned by a charming old lady in her eighties (we're guessing). Aida immediately invited us in, asked us to sit down and brought out her guestbooks along with some of her homemade marmalade. The dogs fell asleep on the floor next to us as she told us the story about how once upon a time, the hippies had made it all possible.

Aida and her many stories

Over forty years ago, Aida was a poor woman. She had three kids but no money. Her house was dirty and didn't even have a bathroom. One day, two Italian hippies knocked on her door. They told her that no one wanted to take them in, their hippie clothes and long hair made everyone think they were thieves. Aida generously offered them to stay in her humble quarters. They thanked her for her hospitality and left the next day. Two weeks later, 35 hippies knocked on Aida's door. The hippies ended up staying for months, paying Aida more money than even the wealthiest people in Ecuador earned at the time. With this money, she built her hostel and if the stories in the guestbooks are anything to go by, it has been a great success. People who visited forty years ago continue to return, some even with children named after Aida! An incredible woman who showed kindness to two strangers who turned out to be wealthy foreigners. Also, believe it or not, one of the hippies that came later was, in fact, Bob Dylan!

Outside Casa Aida

The rest of our stay was relatively uneventful, apart from receiving the news that burglars had broken into my friend's building (my previous home) on Friday night. We decided to return to Quito on Saturday, along with hundreds of other travelers. It was a stressful journey but we made it and back at the bus station, a persistent taxi driver managed to convince us to let him drive us home. Just to make conversation, I asked him how his holiday weekend was going and to my great surprise, he burst into tears. 

I'm far away from the loves of my life, he sobbed. My wife left me for another man and took our two daughters with her. 

He showed us pictures of his beautiful girls, played love songs that made him cry even more and told us about all the things he was planning to do to get his family back. We did our best to nod sympathetically and offer him some gentle advice. We've all been there and it does get better, we know that. We've been through this story a hundred times already. But for him it was a first and he hadn't even told anyone yet. I got the feeling that this meeting was about him, not us. We were the teachers in that car, in every sense of the word. He needed someone to listen and we could give him that. 

Everything happens for a reason. That's what a friend told me when I was feeling disappointed about not making it to Vilcabamba. And maybe he was right. Our first choice is not necessarily the best one. The hostel that I had reserved in Ibarra actually looked awful when we saw it up close and I would not have wanted to stay there. If the hippies hadn't been turned down so many times, they may never have arrived at Aida's house to help create a good life for her and her children. If the taxi driver hadn't picked up me and Jas, he may never have found the courage to open up and share the burden that he was carrying alone. So even when life throws us a curveball, let's trust that eventually it will lead us to the right place. 

Poor is just a state of mind

The saleswoman studies me compassionately while I scrape the last coins out of my jeans pocket and stack them on the counter. Nine dollars and twenty-five cents. It's all the plata I have on me and just enough to buy me the smallest USB flash drive in the store. Truth to be told, I can't really afford this one either (that's this week's lunch money on the table) but my old memory stick has stopped functioning and I need one for work so I have no choice but to cough up my last dollars. 

It may be baffling to some people why anyone would actually choose a lifestyle where every single penny counts. Back in Finland, I made about three times as much as I make here and even though the cost of living is higher over there, life in Ecuador isn't exactly cheap. I knew before coming here that this year would be tough money wise; I didn't have a lot of savings and I had no plan except to look for adventure. Quitting my first job here and not getting paid for two months set me back even more and despite the fact that I'm now working full time, six days a week, it's a constant struggle to make ends meet. 

Once a month, I head to the bank with my paycheck and the cashier hands me a stack of twenty dollar bills. I then carefully walk home, silently praying that no one will decide to rob me that day. The following day, I pay my rent, which is about a third of my salary. The past two months, I paid twice that amount as a deposit for my apartment and this month, another large chunk will go to the renewal of my visa, which is an extremely costly (and emotionally weary) process in Ecuador. Once these payments have been made, I hide the rest of my hard earned twenty dollar bills in my sock drawer, hoping they will somehow last me until the end of the month. 

Some things are relatively cheap here. One ride on the public transport costs twenty-five cents, which means I spend about three dollars a week on traveling to and from work. For three dollars you can also get a fairly decent lunch, including vegetable soup, chicken or meat, always always rice and sometimes even a small dessert. Other things, such as cosmetics, are ridiculously expensive. I usually pick out the cheapest ones at the grocery store but still need to close my eyes and take a deep breath when I'm asked to hand over eighteen dollars for a mascara that will only last a couple of weeks. 

Normally our fridge isn't look quite as sad-looking but my roommates were on holiday this week and I was reluctant to spend the last of the money that my parents sent me for my birthday on groceries.

Some of the clothes I wear have holes in them (sorry, mom) but I can't afford to buy new ones so I come up with clever ways to hide the scruffiness instead. I really need a new pair of shoes though. The flats I brought with me from Finland are so flat and so worn out that any surface turns into a skating rink when it rains, which is pretty much every day. I've fallen flat on my face in the street a couple of times and whenever the bus brakes suddenly, I end up sliding from side to side. Luckily, there seems to always be someone there to catch me - Ecuadorians are good like that. 

What causes me the most headaches are the unforeseen costs. For example, last week on the bus, someone cut my bag open with a knife. I was only carrying books for work so fortunately nothing was stolen (I guess the thieves weren't interested in learning English) but I was rather upset about having to buy a new bag. There goes another twenty dollars that could have been spent on food for the week. Also, the new bag turned out to be to small for all my books so I'm still using the old one. A coworker rather creatively stitched it together for me and so far it's only ripped open once. 

Living on a tight budget can be somewhat daunting from time to time but even so, I can't imagine being anywhere else. It amazes me sometimes to think about the life I had back home where pretty much everything was available with the swipe of a credit card. Not that I was rich in any way but I could afford to travel and pay for clothes and groceries and anything I needed. Although I can't help but wonder if anyone actually needs organic teas and fancy superfoods like goji berries and chia seeds? Flights and hotels instead of buses and cheap hostels? And did I really use to fork out a hundred euros to get my hair cut?! Okay, so the three-dollar haircut I got here was a bit of a disaster but let's face it - it's just hair. It'll grow back eventually. 

Every day here, I see people of all ages begging for money. Little children sell candy on the street, teenagers sing rap songs on the bus and people with a handicap share their stories with resignation in their eyes, hoping that maybe this time someone will listen and spare a few coins to help them feed their families. I've also never come across so much entertainment at traffic lights. While waiting for the red to turn green, Quiteños can have their car windows cleaned, buy fresh avocados or enjoy a juggling performance. I even saw a tightrope walker the other day. It's a complete circus and I'm so grateful for the fact that no matter how "poor" I am, I will never end up living on the street. I will always have a home to return to and a family that supports me even when I make the craziest of decisions.

It's all about perspective, isn't it? I don't need special foods when I'm living in a country that is bursting with fresh fruit. Cheap green tea tastes more or less the same as the expensive kind and interesting conversations fill me up way more than any lavish meal ever could. Wine glasses and carefully prepared delicacies are not necessary for a fiesta - most guests will be more than happy to munch on nachos and drink whatever you serve them out of any random cup. Life is funny and life is short and most importantly, life is what you make it. I want to make mine about something other than material things - I want it to be about family, friendship and fun. Sunrises, sunsets and everything in between. Oceans and mountains and most of all, love. True love that will last a lot longer than any plata ever could.

A country of contrasts

He likes to call me his little white one. Mi blanquita. My tall dark-skinned friend who calls things as they are. He makes distinctions but never judges. To him, calling a person black or white is no different than calling a car red or blue. Just like you'd need to check the inside of the car in order to evaluate its quality, you have to get to know a person before you can make any assumptions about their character. 

Ecuador and it's inhabitants form such a colorful kaleidoscope of contrasts. When it rains here, it pours. The streets flood, the umbrellas break and people hide inside their houses for days to escape the cold. On the contrary, when the sun comes out, it gets so hot your skin will fry in just a few minutes. I was trying to buy sunscreen the other day but for some reason I could only find SPF 6 or 100, nothing in between. Unable to choose one or the other, I ended up buying a bronzing cream with sun protection that seems to have no effect whatsoever. 

My new daily commute involves a 15-minute ride on the Ecovia, which is kind of like a metro-bus. Sometimes, if you're lucky, the bus is half-empty and it's actually possible to stand without having your inner organs squashed (finding an empty seat never happens). Other times, it's so crowded I don't know how any of us survive getting from one place to the next. People on the platform push like it's a matter of life and death but in fact, it would probably safer to stay there than it is to get on the bus. My fellow commuters are a funny bunch though. While I'm breathing through my nose and trying not to panic, the Ecuadorians around me happily snack on fried bananas, change dirty diapers or shower each other with public displays of affection. 

Once I arrive at my stop, the climb starts. The second part of my daily trip to work consists of a 15-minute walk uphill so by the time I reach the school, I'm panting and sweating. Not for long, however, as it's always absolutely freezing the inside the building. Even when it feels like it's a hundred degrees outside and people are sunbathing in the garden, you need three layers of clothes and a thick jacket to get through the day inside one of the classrooms.

This is the view that meets me when I leave work

Last weekend, I took a taxi to go meet my friends and somewhere along the way, the driver got lost. He stopped by the side of the road to ask for directions and called a man's attention by yelling: 

Oye, flaco! - Hey, skinny one!

The skinny man approached the car, told us how to get to my destination and when my driver thanked him, he responded with:

De nada, gordo. - You're welcome, fat one. 

Neither of them seemed the least bit offended. Meanwhile, I hid silently in the back of the taxi, hoping they wouldn't address me in any way. 

Actually, I don't know how much I would have minded. I may never get to a point where I feel comfortable commenting on other people's physical appearance in such a blunt way but I'm learning how to not find it offensive. In addition, practicing yoga on a daily basis has taught me how to love my own body and accept it exactly as it is. Sometimes I'm gorda, sometimes I'm flaca and both are fine. Both are beautiful. More important than what my body looks like is what it can do. It can move, it can dance, it can walk up hills and it can climb to the top of mountains for crying out loud. Right now, I'm going to wrap it up in a warm blanket and get ready for the chilly night. Just need to put some lotion on the sunburns first.

Full circle

Today, as I was walking home from the grocery store the ground shook slightly under my feet and I realized that I hardly even notice those tremblors anymore. I've become so accustomed to their regular occurrence that I almost find them as ordinary as shopping for groceries. Although actually, they're just as extraordinary as looking up from my daily walk only to have my gaze meet the snowcovered top of a volcano. That view always makes me appreciate how incredible this world really is. 

Last weekend was filled with wonder as my friends and I decided to go and visit the village of Quilotoa and its associated crater. The rain was pouring down when we first arrived but it stopped eventually and we were able to walk down to the bottom of the crater just as the sun set and the moon came out. It was an enchanted evening, wandering around the inside of a volcanic crater in the moonlight and then falling asleep under a thick blanket next to the fireplace at our hostel. 

Laguna de Quilotoa

The next morning, we woke up early to hike around the crater. It's a trek that goes up and down, down and up... not unlike my life here! It looks easy before you start but once you're on the path there will be times when you wonder if you're ever going to make it all the way around. In some places it's hard to see the trail, there's no safety net and some of those stubborn hills are absolutely brutal. But then again, I can't tell you how amazing it is to reach the top and breathe in the magic of it all. Minerals make the water shift in color from blue to green and the stunning view makes your heart skip a beat. It's definitely worth the climb. 

The hike around the crater takes about six hours and somewhere halfway I started guessing which one was going to be our ultimate uphill.

This has to be the last one, I said at least ten times to my worn out friends. It looks really steep but once we're over this one the rest will be easy. I promise. 

Nevertheless, I was wrong every time. As soon as we got across one hill, there was an even steeper one waiting for us on the other side. Eventually, I stopped guessing and walked on in silence instead, allthewhile reflecting on life. It never gets easy, does it? Some steps are always going to be hard but once you get going all you really have to do is just put one foot in front of the other. Pretty soon, the hike will be complete and you will find your tired but happy self right back where you started. Your feet may be touching familiar ground again but something inside of you has shifted. And that shift changes everything. 

A year ago, I decided that I would go to South America in 2016 and here I am, with no regrets. Despite the uphills battles, I can honestly say that coming to Ecuador was the best decision I ever made. The year is about to end, the ground has stopped shaking (at least for now) and my heart is content. The circle is full. 

Even so, my only wish is that you were here to share the magic with me. That's all I want for Christmas this year.

Time to spread the eagle wings and fly

What no one tells you about living abroad

So you're about to embark on an adventure and you think you're all set. You've read the guidebooks, you've talked to people who've gone on similar explorations and you've prepared yourself as much as you possibly can. You know it will be different - the food won't taste the same, things won't work the way you're used to and you will have to adapt to a new home, a new lifestyle and new surroundings. But no matter how ready you think you are, there are certain things that no guide book and no other traveler can prepare you for.

1. How easy it is to make new friends

Within two days of arriving in Ecuador, I already had eleven new friends. Sure, we were all there for the same reason (to survive the Celta course), we had things in common (leaving our native countries to teach abroad) and on top of that, we spent every day together for the next five weeks so it was fairly easy for us to bond. But everywhere I've gone since then, I've had the same experience. Nice, friendly people come and go and as soon as one person leaves, another one arrives, usually in the company of ten others who are also more than happy to hang out, talk and become friends. For a night, for a month, for a year or for a lifetime. The time doesn't really matter but what I've learnt is that every goodbye always brings with it a new hello. That being said, no new friend could ever replace an old one and everyone I meet along the road enriches my journey in some special way. 

My first friends in Ecuador

2. How exhausting it is to learn a new language

I love foreign languages so much that I've made a whole career out of teaching them and sharing this passion with my students. I never had any interest in learning the second official language of my country but I would spend hours hunched over French novels, singing along to Latin music or repeating the colloquial words that make the German language so interesting. So it was only natural that one of my motives for coming to South America was to improve my Spanish, a language that makes me so inexplicably happy. And it certainly has improved during my time here. I'm learning new words every day and understanding people gets easier and easier. Still, there are times when I get frustrated because I just can't find the right way to express what I want to say. When I'm tired, everyone around me seems to speak faster and faster and I can't keep up. I miss parts stories that I would love to hear and therefore don't know how to respond. Then, I call home and suddenly I can't find the words in my own mother tongue either. I know they are there somewhere but it's like looking for a black nail in a black hole - simply impossible. Two days later, the correct expression will come to me, whether it's in Spanish, Swedish or English but by then, the moment is gone. 

Lost in translation

3. How exciting it is to learn about a new culture

Everyone I meet here, from taxi drivers to co-workers to friends of friends, wants to know the following things:

• Where are you from?
• Did you come here alone?
• How old are you?
• Are you married? 
• Do you have children? 
• Do you have a boyfriend? 
• Can I have your phone number and/or your Facebook? 

In the beginning, I was a bit offended. I come from a culture where it's considered inappropriate to ask intrusive questions when you first meet someone. Nevertheless, I'm quite used to it by now and normally I happily engage in the conversation, asking the same questions back. Like my Swiss friend always says, us Europeans are ashamed of so many things for absolutely no reason. Why would it be embarrassing to tell someone your age? It's just a number after all.

Another thing that fascinates me in this country is the transportation. The buses are a mystery that I just can't figure out. On long distance buses you sometimes get salsa music as entertainment, which can be quite nice. Other times it's a violent karate movie. I've yet to watch any other kind of movie on the bus here, even if it's 6 a.m. and most passengers would prefer to sleep. Trying to catch the local buses is an adventure in itself, with the key word being catch. More often than not, you have to run alongside the bus, grab hold of the door and swing yourself on board.

On the other hand, something that I've come to love over here are the words of affection which are used in all contexts and applied to pretty much anyone you come in contact with. Ask a guy on the street for directions and he will somehow manage to call you mi amor, mi vida, mi corazon (my love, my life, my heart) all in one sentence. Taxi drivers will call you linda (beautiful) and saleswomen will address you as amiga (friend) or hermana (sister). The same words are also used for the people that you actually feel that way about so the closeness of the relationship doesn't seem to matter. At first, it made me wonder how much those words really mean if we go around saying them to any random person but after four months here I've stopped analyzing and just enjoy it. 

4. How much you will learn about yourself

I used to think that I liked spending time alone but what I've come to realize is that instead of creating space for myself, I was building walls to keep other people out. Here, I've learnt to live with no walls and no boundaries. I have absolutely no control over who comes into my life or who leaves, which makes me extremely vulnerable but I actually prefer it that way. It makes me feel more alive and I'd much rather live with a broken heart than a closed one. 

So far on this journey, I've learnt that I'm a woman of contradiction. I'm mostly calm on the outside even though tornadoes may rage on the inside. I can't sit still for too long but moving around too much wears me out. I always think of others but get annoyed when they don't think of me. I fear commitment but despair when the other person won't commit. I want to settle down but can't wait to travel more. I hate planning but get upset when plans change. In any case, the most valuable lesson that I've gained is probably the insight that I don't have to be one or the other, it's okay for me to be both.

5. How it will all be worth it in the end

I will never forget the day that I was first introduced to chilimoya and maracuya. It's unfathomable to me that I lived for 35 years without knowing the taste of these delicious fruits. Nor will I ever forget the feeling of freedom that I had while dangling in a parachute above the ocean. Or the excitement I experienced when a humpback whale jumped out of the water right in front of me. Or that moment when I finally dared to open my eyes on the bus only to realize that I was somewhere high above the clouds, right on the edge of a narrow mountain road. So close to death but so, so alive. And the stories. The endless stories of people so willing to share things about their lives. As my Cuban friend always says, cada persona es un mundo (every person is a world) and we have so much to learn from each other. 

Those of you who are teachers will understand what it's like to first struggle with a student in your class and then have that same kid come up to you in the break, wrap his little arms around you and tell you that you are the best teacher in the whole wide world. You know that feeling? That's what expat life is like sometimes. It can be such an uphill battle but my god, it's worth it. And to me, this adventure is by far the most amazing teacher I've ever had. Not least because it has shown me that the most difficult hikes are often the ones that lead to the most beautiful views. 

Illustration by one of my wonderful new friends, the talented Betsy Alvarez del Castillo 

5 days to change a life

Last week I lost my words. I tried to speak and I tried to write but nothing came out. There were so many things happening around me and so much to take in that I suddenly became incapable of forming sentences. Now that I've had a couple of days to process, the words are slowly returning but I still don't know how to fully describe what I've seen, what I've felt and what I've learned. So to make it a little bit easier, I'll include some pictures that hopefully say more than a thousand words.

Photo by Soda/Lime.

Last Friday I was fortunate enough to meet up with a group of superheroes in yoga pants. I call them that because not only do they radiate love and light, they also show up every day asking these two questions: 

How can I be of service? What can I do today to make this world a better place? 

I feel so immensely grateful that I got to share five days with this powerful group of people. We were all there because we had chosen to go on a mission trip with 109 World, an organization that uses social media to do good and create positive change. Their mission trips include daily yoga but mostly, it's about changing the world. Each trip is combined with a social and environmental cause and all profits go to support projects in the local communities where they take place. Ever since 109 World started I have been in awe of their work and always dreamed of going on one of their mission trips. So it seemed like faith when they announced that they would be in Ecuador just a few weeks after my CELTA course ended. This time the mission was to help children who had been affected by the earthquake that struck the coast of Ecuador in April 2016. Many of these children lost their families and their homes and they are still in desperate need of water, sanitation, education, protection and loving support. The cause deeply touched my teacher heart and I also wanted to do something to give back to this amazing country that has given me so much.

7.8 was the magnitude of the earthquake

During the trip, we got to stay at Las Tanusas in Puerto Cayo which is a completely magical place. And yet this magic has little to do with the white sandy beaches, the crystal blue ocean and the swaying palm trees. It's all thanks to its owner, Rodrigo, who is one of the kindest, most inspiring and genuine people I've ever met. The generosity of his heart is simply indescribable. Not only does he run the resort and take care of his family, he is also the founder of Proyecto Amor 7.8, an organization that was created soon after the earthquake happened. Proyecto Amor 7.8 provides the victims with immediate help but on top of that, the long-term aim is to create a sustainable and healthy community.

These bracelets are made by victims of the earthquake; they cost $7.80 and profits go to support the children.

We also got to visit and work in La Finca, the garden that provides the hotel with vegetables, fruits and herbs and later on, we got to bring some of that food to the people living in tents on the streets of Manta. We were all a bit concerned about how we would react when we saw the devastation of the earthquake but Rodrigo told us that the most important thing is to always keep a smile on our face. Our job is not to bring more sadness to the people who have already lost so much, our job is to bring them hope. And as much as the sight of broken homes weighed heavily on our hearts, no one had to force a smile. We were greeted with so much joy and gratitude that the happiness quickly spread. 

Working in la Finca

Earthquake aftermath

Some of the amazing people that we met

Last but not least, we got to take part in the community work that will provide the children and their families with education, sanitation and a healthy environment. We shoveled mud, picked up trash, planted mango trees and played with the kids whose shining light was so bright and so contagious that we all felt like children again. It made us realize that life is not so much about what happens to you but more about what you do with it and how you react to it. Even when you have nothing you can still run around, laugh, play and simply share joy with other people.

Now, a couple of days later, my hands and my clothes are still a bit muddy but my heart has been uplifted. It's funny to think that I wanted to go on this trip to change lives but in the end, the life that really changed was actually mine.

Planting mango trees. Photo by Soda/Lime.

Shaking hips on shaky grounds

I've been thinking about reality versus social media this week. What's really behind all the colorful Instagram-pictures and cheerful status updates? In fact, most of the time our social media image is probably quite far from who we truly are. My truth is that whenever I manage to get away from school for an hour or two, I go for a hike or stroll into town and take lots of pictures that I later publish throughout the week. This is not meant to create an illusion of some kind of sunny life spent on beaches, it is simply because right now my reality consists of in-put sessions, lesson planning, teaching, written tasks and not much else. We often work for about 10 hours a day and spend our weekends writing assignments that are due Monday morning at 9 a.m.

As I've mentioned before, the Celta course is extremely intense and requires a lot of hard work but what I've come to realize is that I honestly love every minute of it. I'd be lying if I said that I jump out of bed with excitement every morning but the truth is that I don't want to crawl back under the covers and sleep for another month either, which was often the case back home. Here, I wake up knowing there's a delicious breakfast waiting for me and that I get to share the rest of my day with wonderful people. And I never, ever get bored during the day, there's just so much to learn and take in. 

That being said, I'm always happy to escape the Celta world occasionally so this Saturday we decided to go dancing. We started off with a round of cocktails and then entered the Montañita madness that this place turns into on the weekends. The clubs are full of people dancing their hearts out, shaking their hips, kissing, singing, laughing, drinking and including everyone in a Macarena choreography or a bunny hop tour around the dance floor. Their joie de vivre is totally contagious and we ended up staying out the whole night making new friends and forgetting all about our assignments.

Sunday night, a yin yoga class at Estudio Casa del Sol seemed like the perfect way to end the week. The class takes place in a room full of people but even so it's all about you, yourself and your mat. There are candle lights, essential oils and words of wisdom. Deep stretches for the body and long moments of silence for the mind. A chance to listen to that inner voice and try to understand what it's trying to say. Where does it want you to go? What does it want you to do? And most importantly, who does it want you to be?

Edit: I had just finished this text and was going to switch off my computer and go to bed when, suddenly, the ground started shaking. The night guard came running, telling all of us to get out of our cabanas immediately and gather outside by the pool. Apparently, another earth quake was happening in Esmeraldas, relatively far from Montañita. We are fine and after about half an hour or so we were allowed to go back in. As I'm writing this I can still feel the earth moving beneath me and it's a little scary, kind of like being out on a boat in stormy weather. But I will turn off my light now and trust that the peaceful feeling I had after yoga class will come back and help me fall asleep.

Everything will be alright.

Between a mountain and an ocean

One of my favorite things about the yoga classes here in Montañita is that instead of using left and right for directions the instructors say:

Turn to the mountain-side or Turn to the ocean-side. 

Even though it's only temporarily, I feel so lucky that I get to live in a place that is situated right between majestic mountains standing firmly on the ground on one side and a vast ocean opening up to endless possibilities on the other. This is where I am right now. Soon I will have to choose whether I want to climb or swim but for now I'm comfortable here, somewhere in between. 

Another week has gone by and yet again it was spent mostly studying, writing and teaching. Still, I feel more alive than I have done for a long time, which is exactly why I needed to get away from my routines back home.  Every day there I would just long to travel, discover and try new things. Every day here, I learn something about the world, about others and about myself. 

Today we went paragliding and as we ran off the mountain and sailed above the ocean I felt so many things. My feet were dangling in the air, far off the ground and yet I felt grounded. I had no control over anything and yet I felt safe. I was tied up to a harness and yet I felt free.

Thank you Ecuador for fixing my broken wings and for teaching me how to let go.