An Australian Adventure

My whole body trembled and sweat poured down my face as I walked up the stairs at the Stamford Plaza Hotel in Sydney, Australia on 7 March 2024. My head was buzzing with nerves and excitement. It marked the first day of Neuro Transformation Therapy, the training that I had traveled all the way across the world for. At the top of the stairs, 110 unknown faces awaited me, along with one familiar face that I had only seen on Zoom. 

I always said that someday, I would go to Australia to fulfill my lifelong dream of hugging a koala. So when my other plans for this year were suddenly cancelled, I decided to turn "someday" into "now". Only to quickly realise how little I know about Australia. The visa requirements and the sheer vastness of the continent took me by surprise, and much to my dismay, I learned that holding koalas in New South Wales is illegal.

Nevertheless, I happily boarded a long flight to Sydney, arriving one week before the NTT event. As I navigated customs, my sister's warnings about Australia’s strict border control echoed in my mind and when a security guard waved me in a direction where no one else was going, I swallowed loudly. Would I be fined for the chewing gum and aspirin in my bag, or denied entry for some unexpected reason? Luckily, he led me towards an exit, where friendly blokes and sheilas greeted me with "G'day darling." 

Hoping to defy jetlag, I immediately went for a long walk, taking in the large city and strangely feeling at home. With six months of winter behind me, I eagerly soaked up the sunshine, and then finally, I saw it - The Opera House, as white as my skin, shining brightly against the blue sky. I had to pinch myself several times to make sure I was awake. As the sun slowly set, the hustle and bustle continued, with people strolling around and live music filling the air. 

Sydney Opera House

Sydney Harbour Bridge

The next morning, I crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge, which reminded me a lot a of the Brooklyn Bridge in New York. After the walk, I sat down at a French café to devour a delicious galette, which fuelled me with enough energy to continue my stroll through the beautiful Botanical Garden. Despite my fears, the only "spider" I saw in Australia was the large bronze statue outside the art museum. And I only saw one snake, a live one up in the mountains. I did see many, many bin chickens though (a local name for the Ibis birds that use their long beaks to pick up food from bins).

My third day was one of pure bliss as I finally got to meet the koalas. Not only that, my guide had an arrangement with the family-run farm so we could enter before other visitors to help feed the animals. The biggest smile spread across my face as I saw their cute little eyes and soft leathery noses. We were also allowed to play with the adorable wallabies and kangaroos, who enjoyed a firm belly rub when they weren't too busy munching on grass or surveying something in the distance. 

Koalas

Kangaroos

After the wildlife park, we visited other areas south of Sydney, such as Wollongong and Morton National Park, and despite the windy and foggy weather that day, I fell in love with the coastal towns framed by mountains. Believe it or not, they looked exactly like the places I see when I visualise my dream future! The tour ended with a wine tasting at a local vineyard where I enjoyed meeting and chatting with other travellers. 

Somewhere along the way...

The following day, my friend from Canberra joined me for an exploration of Newtown, where we discovered the stories behind the exquisite murals and tasted food from all over the world. I really enjoyed digging into some vegan gluten-free tacos at a Mexican restaurant, while Mark preferred the meat pies at a local café. Our favourite, however, was a Turkish ice-cream with a sticky bubblegum texture and a strong rosewater flavour. 

In the evening, we were warned about a thunderstorm and considered canceling our tour to the mountains, but fortunately, we didn't as the clouds passed over night and we ended up having a gorgeous day in the Blue Mountains. The smell of the eucalyptus trees reminded me so much of Ecuador and the breathtaking views and cascading waterfalls filled my soul with joy. 

With my friend Mark

The Blue Mountains

Mural in Newtown

As if hiking in the mountains wasn't enough exercise, I embarked on a coastal walk from Bondi to Bronte the next day. Arriving at Bondi beach, Australia's most famous beach, was a surreal moment. Seeing the massive waves rolling in, the suntanned bodies, the surfers, the lifeguards and the warning signs for dangerous currents made me feel like I was in a movie. The coastal walk was extremely picturesque, with spectacular views at every turn. 

Bondi Beach

Coastal walk

Before I knew it, the week had flown by, and it was time to ascend the stairs at the Stamford Plaza, unaware that every other person there was just as nervous as I was. Yet within hours, we were high-fiving and hugging one another, helping each other through transformative exercises and staying side by side for 12 hours a day, taking in every word from our teacher Luke Hawkins.

Towards the end of the last day, I could barely stand nor keep my eyes open. My body was exhausted. But when my name was called, I danced my way up on the stage and my new friends clapped and cheered, just as loudly as I did for them. We made it! We healed ourselves, so that we can go out and heal others. We showed up, daring to be vulnerable and we took risks, desperately craving the rewards.

Two weeks after my Australian adventure, I still catch myself wondering if it was just a dream. The truth is that reality may not always align with our expectations. Reality is a little messier, a lot sweatier, a bit more awkward, more intense, more colourful, and way more fun. If we can overcome our fears, our doubts and our limiting beliefs, then we can unlock the potential for an extraordinary life. Even if it includes encountering a couple of bin chickens along the way.

 

With the legendary Lukes of Australia

Australia's most hated bird?

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

May you go further than the stars

It was always my dream to do the pilgrim walk to Santiago de Compostela so, when the leaders of my hiking group sent out an invitation to walk the last part of the Camiño de Santiago Portugués, I immediately accepted. There was no time to prepare, but after years of dreaming, I was more than ready for this challenge.

The adventure began with a twelve-hour car ride from southern Andalusia to Tui in northern Spain, our starting point close to the Portuguese border. Twelve hours in a van with a group of Sevillanos, all of us wearing our face masks of course. Spaniards are known to speak faster than bullets leave machine guns and the decibel of their speech has been recorded as one of the highest in the world, which may be why life in Spain often reminds me of a book title by Jonathan Safran Foer: Extremely loud and incredibly close. 

Only when we arrived at our first hostel did one of the women that I was sharing a room with say to the other: "Turn down the volume, please - we're in Galicia now."

Our first hostel had a pool,
which was heaven after a long day of hiking

Start of the Camino

Our first encounter was with a Gypsy woman wailing on the side of the road as we drove through a small Portuguese town. We didn't speak her language so the villagers explained that today was the day of her husband's funeral, he had committed suicide a week earlier and left her here on their doorstep with his pain. I tried to look into her eyes but she saw nothing and heard no one; even surrounded by people eager to console, she was alone with her grief and somehow, she will have to move on and find a new normal. 

On our first day of walking, I started thinking about what I need to be happy, and I came to the conclusion that I really don't need much. I certainly don't need many material things - of all the clothes I brought for the Camino, I could have done just as well with half. The lighter the backpack, the easier the walk.

Along the path, there are many messages and signs and one that you will see everywhere is the Latin word Ultreia, which means "May you go further than the stars." Amongst poetry painted on walls and hearts carved into trees, we came across a yellow and blue pair of shoes with a sign saying: "Yo hago Camino, NO maratón - I'm doing the walk, NOT a marathon." The path is the destination, hence there is no need to run towards the finish line. There should always be enough time to take a break, enjoy the surroundings, gaze at the goats, swim in the waterfalls, and watch the stars at night.

After a few days, I felt comfortable enough to let go of the need to engage in conversation all the time. Sometimes, I would walk by myself, other times in silence with someone next to me. Occasionally, an interesting topic would come up and we would walk and talk until we were out of breath. However, I also learned the skill of tuning out from the incessant chatter around me and tuning in to the sounds of nature instead. Whenever my mind would wander too far off the path, something would happen to bring my attention back, like when we were drawn into the forest by the enchanting music coming from two bagpipers standing behind a stone cross.

 

One of my biggest challenges was being hungry most of the time. On the second day, I only ate a small salad, which led to feeling weak and unmotivated on the third day. The hostels we stayed at served a good breakfast and during the walk, I would munch on dried fruit and nuts, but as much as we were moving, it wasn't enough. I hadn't realized that finding gluten-free vegan food would be so complicated in Galicia, or else perhaps I would have prepared differently.

On the other hand, there were other things that I had unnecessarily worried about before the trip, such as getting lost. The Camino is very well marked, all you have to do is follow the signs. Not having the right clothes was also a concern, just like blisters, sore legs, or a possible arthritis flare-up, none of which happened even though I didn't even have proper hiking shoes. I did the whole walk in my Nike trainers and it was absolutely fine.

Obviously, we considered the risks of Covid-19, but we mostly stayed within our group, wearing face cover and maintaining distance. I feel much safer up in the mountains than out on the streets anyway. Sunburn and fatigue are also valid issues to keep in mind and there were definitely moments, even days when I didn't want to put one foot in front of the other anymore. To keep going, I would think of something a Finnish war veteran said when he visited my school long ago: "You'll be surprised at how far you can walk after you think you can't walk anymore."

In total, we walked 120 kilometers in six days. In order to get the official stamp and certificate, you need to walk at least 100 kilometers but, certificate in hand, I can assure you that this is not what the Camino is about. What matters more is reflecting, pushing your limits, finding something beautiful inside yourself, and learning from the people that you meet along the way. 

They say that on the Camino, you will never walk alone. I experienced this through God's powerful presence, as churches and crosses are everywhere, but we also crossed paths with some interesting characters, for example, an elderly woman in a green bikini and a golden cross, who was feeding a goose on the beach. She told us that the bird's name was Chris, he's about six years old and she loves him more than her dog.

At a café by the side of the road, we met a man in his 80s with three golden crosses around his neck, selling charms in the shape of cats and shells. "Why does one have to die at 100?" he asked. "Can't they create one of those app things to make us live until 120?" His eyes sparkled as he made us laugh and buy more of his jewelry.  

There was also a woman in her forties walking the Camino on her own and we immediately bonded as it turned out that she was a language teacher like me and about to start a yoga teacher training, too. Then there was a wrinkly Portuguese man with a feathered cane walking in the opposite direction as well as two Australian dudes slowly limping and smoking their way forward on the path. 

On the last day, I walked mostly on my own until another group of Sevillanos caught up with me at a crossroads where I had stopped, unsure of which way to choose. "Are you afraid of us?" they laughed behind their masks, nudging me with their elbows and using silly voices to ask me for a picture. A group of guys in their thirties, they were convinced it doesn't matter whether you go left or right so I followed them to the left. We chatted as we entered the city of Santiago de Compostela together and they asked me about my ambitions in life. 

Reaching the cathedral is one ambition that I have now completed. As I stood there looking up, surrounded by new friends, I thought of all the other pilgrims who have come before me, and those who have yet to arrive. I thought of how one adventure is really just the beginning of another, and how many of us choose different paths in life or advance at a different speed than others, yet eventually, we reach the same destination. After all, as spiritual teacher Ram Dass observed: "We are all just walking each other home."

In front of the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela

New beginnings

It is the start of a new decade and I have really enjoyed my friends' social media posts comparing their pictures from ten years ago to what their life looks like today. 

Yet I haven't felt any need to reciprocate. 

I don’t want to look back, nor do I want to look forward. I only want to be here and now. I don’t remember where I was a decade ago and it no longer matters. I know exactly where I was two years ago, however, and that is enough. I was in the hospital. In pain. Feeling terrified. And I also know where I am now. On a train. Moving forward. Feeling safe(r). I have come a long way.

As I watch the snow-covered landscape go by, I think of what my Spanish friends asked me before I left Seville to go home for the holidays: "Vas a tu tierra? Are you going back to your land, the earth that you came from?" 

Snow yoga

Yes. This is where I grew up, in this freezing country in the north. Where the winters are long and dark, and the summers are warm and bright. The country of the northern lights and the midnight sun. Where the moods change with the seasons and people show love through actions, not words. Where women can be presidents, prime ministers, and pastors. Where there is no reason to fear the wind because the roots are strong and there is freedom to fly.

"Where are you going now?" My friends in Finland want to know in which direction I'm headed. "I don’t know," I respond honestly with a shrug. I believe that as I continue to move forward, the path will reveal itself. My New Years' resolution is simply to be here and now. Aquí, ahora. 

The only goal I have for this year is to finish the yoga teacher training that I started in October and that will keep me in Seville at least until the end of June. So far, every idea or expectation that I had of the course beforehand has turned out to be wrong, yet I'm loving every minute of it. It is giving me what I need, not what I thought I wanted and even though it seems to be changing something deep within, I can feel that it is also grounding me and bringing me back to myself. 

"This course found you," my yoga teacher said and I think she’s right. Her comment made me think of how many years I have spent searching without even knowing what I am looking for. After my great adventures in South America, I was so lost that I had to spend a year in hiding just to recover. 2020, therefore, seems like a good time to step back out into the light and let more things and people find me.

If 2018 was the year I nearly drowned then 2019 was the year I learned to stay afloat. 2020 might be the year I finally learn how to ride the waves. How to dive right in and deal with the highs and the lows. How to observe the ebbs and the flows and appreciate the beauty in every season. 

20 + 20 = 40. This is my last year as a thirty-something. The only name left on the list of places I want to see before I turn forty is Machu Pichu in Peru. I have exactly one year and one month to save up and start the journey so I might make it, but even if I don’t, it will be okay. As seasons change, so do dreams and wishes. 

A new decade. A new season. A new circle begins. It reminds me of what the French say when they haven’t seen someone in a long time: "Qu’est-ce que tu deviens?" It is a way of asking how someone is, what is new in their life and what they have been doing lately but it literally means “What are you becoming?” I like it. Not where have you been nor where are you going. Just here and now: What are you becoming? 

Sunset in Vaasa, Finland

Qué padre! - How cool!

He has the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. It's hard not to notice them as he's thrown himself down on my beach towel uninvited. We are sitting side by side with our knees touching and it's all just a little too close for comfort. In broken English, he's already asked every girl on the beach to help him with his "problem", i.e. he's bought too many beers and now needs someone to help him drink them. Poor little Mexican guy. Why he's decided not to take no for an answer from me I don't know. Maybe it's because I speak Spanish. Maybe it's because I'm traveling alone and don't mind having someone to talk to. Maybe it's because once we get past the opening line about beer, he's actually a nice guy. Apart from the fact that he wants to cheat on his girlfriend but we agree to disagree on that particular subject.

Both knees are mine

As we watch the sun set over Playa Langosta in heavenly Cancún, I share some things about my life with him and he tells me about his passion for karate and the sudden death of his mum six months ago. He also teaches me about the history of his country and explains the symbolism of the Mexican flag - red for the blood shed by his ancestors, white for peace and green for the well-being of the Mexican people. And in the middle an image of a snake being eaten by an eagle, representing what the Aztecs saw when they first arrived at the place that is today the capital. After watching this good, strong animal devour something so bad and evil, they came to the conclusion that this must be where they should settle down.

Sunset over Playa Langosta

I get up to leave and tell my new amigo that I'm certain his mum is still with him. She's in the pink sky watching over him and wanting him to be happy. His eyes water and as he leans in to hug me goodbye, he offers me some advice of his own:

Life is short, he says. Please enjoy it. Do what you want and don't worry about what anyone else thinks. We only get one life and no one else can live it for us; the choices that we make have to be our own and the only way to make them is to know what we want. 

The following day, I've booked a tour to Chichen Itza, one of the seven World Wonders. I don't sleep well the night before and wake up with awful menstrual cramps but I still choose to go. It's a painful 3-hour bus ride until we arrive in a small Mayan village, where we make a stop before continuing to the ruins. Short men dressed in white wish us Ma'lob Ja'atskab K'iin - good morning. Our guide translates as they tell us about their traditions, culture and history. They show us their beautiful handicraft and I know immediately that I want to take one of the figures made of healing stone home with me. One of the young Mayans help me pick out a statue that is supposed to bring love and then tells me that if I go around the corner, I will find a shaman that can bless it for me. 

I do as I'm told and a man half my size greets me with a toothless grin. He has never heard of Finland so he decides to call me "Elena de Ecuador" instead and then begins the ceremony by splashing me with water that smells absolutely divine. Next, he lifts up a bowl of incense and directs the smoke towards my belly while chanting in a language incomprehensible to me. Finally, he blesses my stone figure and instructs me to bring it out into the full moon light to give it the power that will heal me and my family. I want to give him a hug but it seems inappropriate so I just smile and say Dios bo'otik - thank you.

As I walk away, I notice that my period pains are completely gone. 

Chichen Itza

The rest of my holidays are filled with similar adventures but also beach life and some much needed rest. I see a crocodile one day and when I get home all excited, my Mexican host simply responds: Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you not to walk on that side of the road. Well, thanks for the heads-up. Then my amiga arrives and together we explore the magic of Tulum while ringing in the new year surrounded by new friends. We also go on bike tours, road trips, dance and eat tacos. And then I get food poisoning, just to make sure the Mexican experience has been complete.

Signs are everywhere in Tulum

Three rather unpleasant flights later, I finally get home to find that the neighbors above me have been throwing food and cigarettes onto my terrace. This in turn has attracted birds and one dove in particular has now made my little outside space her permanent home. I'm about to chase her away when, just out of curiosity, I decide to look up the meaning of this spirit animal first. To my surprise, this is what spirit-animals.com has to say: 

The dove's mission is to remind you that in order to soar, you must first move your wings and allow the wind to take you to new heights. What you see right now is reality shifting in ways you never thought possible and what you're truly looking for is just around the corner. The most chaos happens just before your dreams come true. 

After the turmoil that was 2017, I'm hoping that means 2018 will bring some peace. Maybe there's wisdom in stillness. Maybe there's peace in a decision that's been made. Maybe it's time I stopped running and started figuring out what I want. And yes, the dove can stay. She's not so bad. Although I hope she doesn't mind sharing the full moon light with my little Mexican love statue.

Tulum beach