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

Good landings

My friend has a new sparkle in her eyes and her radiant energy is contagious. We are at Juan Valdez, the coffee shop at Guayaquil airport where we first met two years ago and as we lift our cups of tea to make a toast, my friend exclaims: "To good landings!" We burst out laughing at the way she says it, but the message is well received. What she means is, may you land softly. May the people that are waiting for you on the other side of the Atlantic take good care of you and nourish you back to health. May this next adventure you're about to embark upon bring you lots of happiness. 

Twelve hours later, I land smoothly in Madrid and shortly after, four people have already struck up a conversation with me. The taxi driver talks nonstop on the ride from the airport, telling me all about the ten years he spent in South America and how he would never go back. Madrid is the place to be, according to him. The hotel receptionist is also awfully chatty, circling all the things he thinks I should see on a map and recommending a tapas restaurant nearby where the waiters are as tall and good-looking as the food is tasty. (All true, by the way). At the table next to me is a Spanish couple with a baby who can't stop staring at this strange lady eating by herself. The parents and I talk for a while and they welcome me to their city with smiles as warm as the sun.

After lunch, I wander round for a couple of hours and despite my blond hair and the huge map that I'm dragging around, nobody "mistakes" me for a tourist. In fact, I get asked for directions at least five times, by Spaniards. Does that mean I fit in? Do I look like I belong? I'm not sure. 

The view from my hotel room in Madrid, Spain

Once I land in Helsinki, I'm greeted with big smiles and warm hugs from my dearest friends - the ones that I've had for twenty years without any conflict and drama, only laughter and unconditional support. I spend a few days with them before moving on to the town where my family lives. It's the end of August but the days are still sunny and bright and for someone who recently said a lot of goodbyes, each 'hello' and 'welcome back!' feels as nice as the Indian summer.

Despite the loving care from my family and friends, I feel like an alien for a couple of weeks. Everything is familiar and everyone looks the same, yet I can't shake the feeling of being different. I'm not the odd one out anymore, I'm one in the crowd but I'm lonely. I'm home but I feel homeless. I'm back where I started but more lost than ever. Until I find a yoga school nearby and finally land on my mat. After the first yoga class, my arthritic hand hurts so much that I cry for two days. Then I wipe the tears and go back. I adapt my practise and slowly, I start to flow.

Being back on my mat reminds me of who I used to be, but I still don't recognize the person that I see in the mirror. Therefore, I decide to do something more radical - I cut my hair. Most of it has fallen off due to stress and medication anyway, so instead of trying to cover up the bald spots, I choose to chop it all off. I can't watch as the hairdresser has her way with the scissors, so I keep my head down until the last of my blond strands have landed on the floor. Then, I look up and there I am. Still blond but with the shortest hair I've ever had. Still me, but also someone new.

One of my friends in Quito used to find it amusing that he could never quite predict what I was going to do or say. "You're such a wild card," he would chuckle, shaking his head. Since I've been home, I've come to think that maybe he was right. Not even I know where I'm going half the time. They say home is where the heart is but I no longer resonate with that saying - mine has been scattered in too many places in the world. Maybe home is simply where we are happy and at peace. I may not be fully there yet, but at least I'm back on dry land. I have landed and might even be ready for take-off to another destination soon.

I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself. (Maya Angelou)

The view from my parent's home in Vaasa, Finland

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

10 things I'm grateful for this month

It's been almost a year since I last wrote a blog post about things that I'm grateful for so it's about time for a new one. I've actually kept a gratitude journal during the challenging month of February and here are some of the things I've noted down: 

1. Being able to walk again! For every day and every step, I get a little bit faster and a little bit stronger and I can't wait to be climbing mountains again soon.

2. Gentle, restorative yoga. I may still be far from my regular practice but at least I'm back on my mat where I belong. 

3. The tax return that ended up covering my hospital bill. 

4. Skin on skin contact. Was there ever a greater form of healing?

5. Being back at work. Not just working with motivated, curious students but also hanging out with other teachers, making jokes, doing crossword puzzles and talking about other things than being sick. 

6. Vegan mango yogurt. Delicious.

7. God. For showing me that even when everything else is taken from us, we can put our faith in him and trust that there is a divine plan behind every struggle. 

8. Pan de Quinoa. Pretty much the only gluten-free bread that I've been able to find in Ecuador. 

9. People that don't run when things get ugly, uncomfortable and less than perfect. I just love you. 

10. Last but definitely not least, every single person that has helped me in some way during this month. Be that through buying groceries, driving me to doctor's appointments, sending messages or holding me in your thoughts and prayers. All these drops of kindness became an ocean that carried me all the way to the shore.

Thank you ❤

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

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. 

Searching and learning

Her hand in mine, my hand in his. Eyes closed, knees touching. Collective inhales and exhales. Vibrations. Tingling sensations. Magic moving all around the room. We have just completed an hour and a half of yoga and dancing at Flow Hot Yoga in Cumbaya and the endorphins linger in our bodies. We finish by singing OM and saluting the light in one another. Namaste. I open my eyes and look over at my friends who are glowing in the dark, sparkling even, like the rare diamonds that they are. 

Ever since I came back to Quito I've had such a craving for honesty and genuine connections. I want everything around me and inside of me to be pure and clean, which is why this seems like the perfect time to start a vegan diet. Watching the documentary What the Health has also convinced me that plant-based food is the best option that I can serve my body and so far, I feel great. I've been sort of vegetarian for a long time but I want to take it one step further and leave out all animal products. Even so, I still prefer to call myself "flexitarian" because I don't believe in too strict rules when it comes to eating. I need to be able to enjoy a bit of cheese and chocolate every now and then, otherwise life is just too sad. Also, being flexible makes things easier when you're living in a country like Ecuador where vegan options are somewhat limited. 

On this second round of my adventure, I'm also on a misson to find out who I can really trust. I'm endlessly grateful for my amazing tribe of people around the world and so excited about the new ones coming in. Unfortunately, however, this truth-seeking journey began with me finding out about a betrayal from yet another person that I thought was my friend. But maybe that's just how it goes. Maybe it's like with the light and the dark - we wouldn't be able to recognize the truth if it wasn't for the lies? 

After I heard the news, I walked away from what had once been sisterhood and friendship and made sure to carefully close the door. This, in turn, has led me to ponder some rather uncomfortable questions: Do I let people in too easily or, do I push them out too fast? Do I need to be more careful or more empathetic? Are there times when we should forgive and forget, even when we can't possibly understand? Maybe I need to learn how to exist in a garden that is growing wild, instead of trying so hard to get rid of all the weeds? 

Once again, I find myself quoting my favorite author Elizabeth Gilbert, who describes this process so much more beautifully than I ever could: 

If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting and set out on a truth seeking journey, either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher and if you are prepared most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, the truth will not be withheld from you. 

So that's where I am right now. At end of one adventure and the start of another, or maybe somewhere in between. Always searching, always learning, always trying to do better. Thinking about all the things I didn't know a year ago and wondering where I'll be a year from now. Above all, appreciative of this ever changing world and thankful for each experience that has something valuable to teach me.

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.

Happiness is...

- Starting a new job where you feel appreciated and welcome

- Finding a job that allows you to be creative

- Teaching students that come up to you after class to thank you for a fun lesson

- Receiving good luck wishes from people who remember that it's your first day at your new job

- Moving back to a place that feels and smells like home and where everything is nice and white  and clean

- Living in the same house as your best friend

- Having a best friend that will share anything with you, whether it's a doctor's appointment in a sketchy neighborhood or French fries with mayonnaise at three in the morning

- Having friends that will love and support you (and put up with you), as much on your sunny days as on your rainy days

- Inviting friends over for a small get-together that somehow turns into a huge fiesta where no one knows anyone but everyone is having a fabulous time

- Dancing salsa so wildly that you bump heads with another dancer and end up with a blue little horn on your forehead for a week as a reminder of that one fantastic night

- Dancing with people who show up

- Saying yes to adventure and no to people taking advantage of you

- Making decisions that make your head spin, your heart flip and your stomach fill with butterflies

- Chatting with your family every day to find out how they're feeling, how their day went and what they had for breakfast.

- Appreciating the little things

- Being grateful for everything you have, everything that you've been through and everything that is yet to come

- Believing that the best is yet to come

Thank you, thank you, thank you

Chilly coincidences and charming encounters

Why do you travel alone? 

The Colombian taxi driver seems concerned. He's a handsome young man in his early twenties and he doesn't understand why I've come all the way to Bogota by myself. 

Don't you have a partner? 

Ah, great. The same question that every taxi driver in Quito also loves to ask. Of course, they usually follow it up with the suggestion that I could marry an Ecuadorian. And then they chuckle, seemingly content with themselves for having found a solution to my "problem". 

The truth is that I LOVE to travel by myself, although I often forget that I do. Right before a trip I always get cold feet and wish that I could just stay home and watch Netflix instead. But once I'm on my way, I feel so happy and free. I can wander around for hours and take as many pictures as I want, without anyone sighing and hinting that maybe it's enough for now. I can have my lunch wherever and whenever I want, without anyone complaining about there being no rice and no meat. I like to eat my quinoa salad in peace, thank you very much.

This was my favorite cafe in Bogota - De Una Travel Bar

The best part, though, has to be meeting other travelers. I know that you also meet people when you're with a partner or a friend but somehow I think we're more open to it when we're traveling by ourselves. And with most people that you meet, there's an instant connection. Especially with those who are also traveling alone because they just get it. For example, on my first day in Bogota, I joined a bike tour and had a blast with five people that I'd never met before. We cycled around the city for about five hours and then decided to have lunch together. We invited our guide to join us and two people from the tour office came along as well. They were great company and we had so much fun trying local food, sharing our stories and chatting about cultural differences. Then we kissed each other on the cheek and parted ways.

Bike crew at Plaza Bolivar

Or take New Years Eve. Who wants to be alone on one of the most significant nights of the year? Yet this year, I hadn't made a single plan. If nothing else, I was just going to stay at the hostel and catch up on the many hours of sleep that I've lost over the past couple of months. As it turns out though, life had a different idea. On Friday, I got back late after a night out dancing salsa and when I arrived at the hostel, there was a fiesta going on in the reception as well. That's how I got to know the American guys that I would later spend New Years with. A friend of a friend also happened to be in Bogota that weekend and since she was staying at a hostel just around the corner, I invited her to join us on the 31st.

New Years crew at Explora Hostels 

Saturday night around 11 p.m., we all decided to walk down to Torre Colpatria to watch the fireworks and join the midnight countdown. The other girl and I were a bit late getting ready so the guys left without us, even though they had promised to be our guardians on the way (Colombian streets are rather unsafe to walk around on late at night). Since my new friend and I didn't know the way to the tower, we asked a Colombian couple on the street for directions. After initially bringing us to the wrong place (an empty plaza), they agreed to share a taxi with us and we reached the tower at about a quarter to midnight. There, we ran into our American friends again, which was a lucky coincidence in itself as the place was packed with people and we never would have found them otherwise. The timing of our arrival just happened to work out perfectly.

Anyway, the guys went on to tell us that somewhere along a dodgy street, a creepy man had come up to them and threatened them with a knife. They all claimed not to have been scared but they were clearly shook up and one of them even decided to leave the party early and return to the safe quarters of our hostel instead. When I turned around to thank the Colombian couple for bringing me and my friend to the tower, they were gone. They had disappeared in the crowd and we never saw them again. Perhaps they were the actual guardians whose job it was to get us there safely.

Bogota by night - the lit up tower is where we started the year 2017

So there we were, this odd little group of strangers suddenly turned into friends. While we were counting down the seconds to midnight, the whole tower lit up in a rainbow of colors and the fireworks sparked all over the black Bogota sky. We all hugged each other tightly, feeling chills running down our spines as we realized that this must be the best way to start a new year - by being thankful for being alive.

Now, it's a new day and a new year. A chance to start over and make things right. An opportunity to face the world with an open heart and say yes to adventure. To trust that when the time is right, life (and our guardian angels) will bring us where we need to be. Fortunately for me, that place right now happens to be a beautiful beach in Cartagena, far away from chilly Bogota. It's my first night here and I just had a lovely dinner down by the water, under the stars with a cool breeze caressing my skin. While slowly sipping a delicious coconut lemonade, I realized that maybe there are some moments that would be nice to share with someone. Then again, it is only day one - who knows where, what or with whom I'll be eating by the end of this week? And that, I  believe, is the real allure of traveling alone - the possibility that anything can happen.

Cartagena by night - view from my apartment 

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 

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.