Coastline Conversations and Riviera Reflections

Imagine cruising along the French Riviera Coastline in a blue 1970s 2CV Citroën, with the rooftop open and the wind blowing through your hair. On your right, the glimmering turquoise Mediterranean Sea stretches out, and on your left, the rolling hills of the Alps rise up. As you pass by the charming villages of Villefranche-sur-Mer and Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, people wave, smile and snap pictures of the car.

Now, add the smell of gasoline, the sound of honking, the sensation of sweat dripping down your legs as they stick to the leather seat, and your hair tangling into knots that may never come undone. Pictures may speak loudly, but they never quite reveal the full experience. 

Let's try another one. Imagine yourself on the beach, your towel carefully placed on the soft, round pebbles, and a feel-good novel in your hands, waiting for you to turn the pages. You have just returned from a refreshing dip in the ocean and now you're watching the waves roll in towards the shore, just a few feet from your toes. 

Now, add the sound of screaming children, the smell of sun screen and someone smoking pot. On your right, a couple is arguing and on your left, a group of teenagers just turned up the volume on their loudspeakers. Right behind your towel, an elderly man smiles proudly as he sets up his umbrella, shading you from the sun you have travelled over 2,000 kilometres to enjoy.

Ah, such holiday bliss.

While Instagram snapshots may differ from reality, I actually had a great time in France. I really needed to press pause for a while and spend some time just being, rather than always doing. 

After the coastline adventure and a minor heatstroke quickly remedied with coconut ice-cream, I decided to cool down with some morning yoga. I signed up for a class in the Parc de la Colline du Château, and on that day, there was only one other participant. "I love sports!" was one of the first things she said, and I laughed as it reminded me of my younger self. I still love soccer, floorball and volleyball, but due to joint pain, I can't play as much as I used to. Instead, I've had a to create a new identity for myself.

After the yoga class, Madison and I went for a stroll through the Marché des Fleurs, and she told me that she works in marketing and travels the world. Her belongings are stored in London, but she is free to live and work anywhere, which is also my dream. I felt so inspired after our meeting; it made me realise that there are many different ways of living - we just need to find the one that makes us happy. 

On the way back to my Airbnb, I stopped in a bookshop where a friendly Algerian, half-hidden behind a pile of used books, greeted me. "Vous lisez qu'en anglais? - Do you only read in English?" he asked as I picked out an English novel and handed it to him. "No, I also enjoy reading in French," I said with a smile. He then offered me a laminated French poem about domestic violence, which brought tears to my eyes. Unsure of how to respond, I passed it back to him, at which point he launched into a monologue about equality. "Si vous êtes pressée, je ne veux pas vous embêter... - If you're in a hurry, I don't want to bother you..." His eyes met mine, searching for permission to continue. "Non, non, je ne suis pas pressée - I'm not in a hurry," I said politely, though half an hour later, I did start glancing at my watch. 

Still, I truly appreciate the conversation we had about literature, life and politics. How often do we take the time to chat to a stranger for 30 minutes? Perhaps we should do it more often; it can leave us with a new perspective and some valuable insight. Before I left, the Algerian man gifted me another poem along with a parting phrase: "Nous ne passons pas travers à le temps, le temps passe à travers nous - We don't pass through time, time passes through us."

Even though I was in France, I adopted the Japanese concept of Yutori for the rest of my holiday. Yutori means living with spaciousness, slowing down to savour the world around us, and intentionally creating space to reflect, without being under constant pressure. Following in the footsteps of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Pablo Picasso who found tranquility and inspiration for their work in the charming town of Antibes, I relaxed my pace and allowed my mind to calmly shift from one thought to another, as if I were living in a poem.

Natural High Healing

On Midsummer Day, my nephew and I went for a morning stroll through the forest towards a nearby beach. All of a sudden, we stopped in our tracks as an eagle came flying straight towards us. Instinctively, I held out an arm to protect my nephew and we both watched in amazement as the majestic bird changed direction and soared out across the water. 

The eagle is an impressive creature, capable of reaching heights other birds may only dream of. As a spirit animal, it can inspire us to view life from a broader perspective, allow our hearts to guide us, and remain open to unexpected opportunities. While unafraid of the unknown, eagles also have four toes on each foot, which helps them stay grounded and connected to the Earth.

With this in mind, I impulsively accepted an invitation to volunteer and cook vegan food at the Natural High Healing Festival two weeks later, in exchange for a free ticket to the workshops. Even though those guided by the eagle spirit are said to welcome challenges with courage and determination, I had many questions and concerns before the festival. Would I manage to sleep in a tent for four nights? What would I eat? Who would I spend time with? What if I wanted to be alone? 

I had no answers, only questions. Nonetheless, I embarked on a five-day adventure with three strangers who kindly provided transportation and taught me everything I needed to know about food preparation, cooking and serving. They even helped me to set up my tent, and camped right next to me.

Our vegan Peanut Stew was very popular

On Friday morning at eight a.m., I attended a workshop called "Manifesting Money through Kundalini Yoga." I squeezed my mat into a tiny corner of the crowded room, and took a deep breath - several, in fact - as we started with some powerful kriyas (movements) combined with breathwork. As the session progressed, the exercises became increasingly intense, raising our energy to a higher frequency. "Stay true to yourself, and do your best on the path that is yours," our teacher advised when she invited us to lie still for a while. "By resting in between, you teach your nervous system that it is safe to go for it."

My most significant takeaway from this workshop was the mindset that we live in a world of abundance and by vibrating on the same frequency as what we desire, we can attract what is meant for us. 

Later that day, I participated in another workshop called "The Forgiveness Journey." Once again, we began with breathwork and meditation, grounding ourselves in the present moment. After a bit of movement, our teacher invited us to find a partner. The tall blond girl in front of me turned around to ask if I would like to work together, and I nodded. We were instructed to stand close and gaze into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity, but may have been around fifteen minutes. I don't know my partner's name, but I still remember every detail of her clear blue eyes. In them, I saw love and kindness. There were moments when I could glimpse the hard times she had been through, and other moments when I sensed that she could feel my pain. We quietly repeated: "I forgive you. I love you."

Finally, the teacher encouraged us to step closer and embrace one another. It was the longest hug of my life, but also the most healing. As we leaned in closer, I could feel the other girl's heart beating in the same rhythm as mine. "Allow yourself to relax into this embrace," the teacher said. "Allow yourself to be held and supported. What if there are no mistakes? What if everything happened exactly according to plan, so that you could be here right now? What if you could start over and rewrite your story with courage and authenticity?" I wiped a tear from my cheek, and reached out to touch my partner's hand. "Thank you," we both whispered softly, and then never spoke again.

On Saturday, I worked throughout the morning, and by the time I could join a dance workshop in the afternoon, I felt exhausted. I was not in the mood to observe and be aware of sensations, and I kept looking at my watch and the door. How long would I have to stay? And where would I go if I left? There were people everywhere.

As if sensing my state, the teacher said: "There might be agitation and irritation in your body. What if you stayed anyway?" So I did. Slowly but surely, we started to move. He guided us through a two-hour conscious dance journey, and I have never experienced anything like it. In a hypnotic voice, he spoke to our subconscious minds. 

Tell the truth. Be honest. Be you. Stop caring so much about what others think. If somebody saw you right now and asked why you're moving this way, just tell them that you don't know. Why are you moving? I don't know. Tell the truth. Be honest. Why are you moving? I don't know.

When, at the end, he invited us to lie down on the floor, I was already there, my whole body trembling. The headache was gone. The agitation was gone. Fatigue remained, but so did joy, contentment and bliss.

Closing ceremony and last dance at the Main Stage

On the final day of the festival, a storm swept in, challenging us as we attempted to pack up our belongings and dismantle the tents. The French vendor who had been selling chocolate came to assist us and the Indian chefs prepared refreshing mango lassis for everyone. Instead of competing, we had built camaraderie over the past few days and with big smiles, we shook hands and said "See you next year!"

I wouldn't say that my heart feels full after this experience, but rather that new space has opened up. I am ready to see and be seen, hear and be heard, love and be loved. I feel free, and like the eagle, I am ready to fly, with new questions on my mind. How far can I fly, and how high? And where should I go first?

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

Waves of change

"Ellie, deja que la vida fluye," my Ecuadorian friend W always says to me. Let life flow. I agree with him but as we all know, it's not so easy to let go of control. Before I left my home in Quito, I wrote a post about feeling like I was drowning and a friend that I met in Thailand many years ago commented: "You will float, you will float, you will float". She wasn't wrong and her comment became my mantra whenever I felt myself sinking again, but I don't think she or anyone else could have imagined that it would take two whole years before I would once again trust the ocean enough to stop treading water and just... float. 

It wasn't until I actually went out into the real ocean a couple of weeks ago that I realized I've finally let go of the fight. I have stopped resisting the natural flow of things.

I was on a tour with a group of hikers and setting off in the beautiful hippie paradise called Caños de Meca, we hiked towards the coastal town of Barbate, stopping several times along the way to cool down with a dip in the ocean. Towards the end of our hike, I walked out into the water alone, distancing myself from the group. Out in the deep blue sea, I stretched out my arms and my legs to float on the waves, something I literally hadn't done for years. I have mostly gone to Finland in the winter and last summer, my only contact with water was freezing my toes off in the Atlantic ocean outside Portugal. The beaches in Ecuador are outstanding but there, the waves were too big to swim.

As I was floating around in the crystal blue water, I noticed that all the spaces in my body that used to be filled with something or someone now somehow seemed hollow. I also felt small, in a good way. We are but tiny drops in a vast ocean of uncertainty, but if we move with the waves of change, we may eventually end up where we are supposed to be. 

Due to the Covid-19 situation around the world, I am currently without a job and need to leave my apartment at the end of this month, without knowing where to go or what to do next. That's the thing about floating - it's basically drifting around with no destination.

What I take with me from Seville is a strong sense of community. I have always found support here, whether it's been in the form of friends, fellow hikers, yogis, colleagues, roommates, partners, or my church family. I have reached out for help and equally so, I have been the one to hold out a hand when someone needed me. For my first yoga class, I created a new mantra for myself and my students: I am safe. I am supported. I am loved. 

At the moment, I feel like circles are closing. I recently bought my last monthly pass at the yoga studio that has been like a second home to me for a year. Two months in Seville turned into twelve as I decided to stay and complete a yoga teacher training here and I have no regrets. Never have I dedicated so much effort into something that turned out to be equally rewarding. During the course, I came to understand that the true essence of yoga has very little to do with asanas; it is more about connecting to the breath, finding balance and recognizing the truth within ourselves. I learned how to awaken my senses, surrender to what is, and perhaps most importantly, to experience joy again. 

Even though there are some things, and some people, that I will probably never be able to let go of, I do feel like I have dropped some heavyweights and let them sink to the bottom. I no longer cling to anything or anyone, instead, I try to let things be and go with the flow. I now understand that acting often comes from a place of kindness whereas reacting is based on hurt. Using our breath to center ourselves can help us make a conscious choice between the two. 

If I wanted to label my experiences over the past three years, I could call them illness, shock, betrayal, anxiety, depression, distorted reality, grief, loss, posttraumatic stress... or I could turn things around and name them lessons in love, vulnerability and fear, overcoming, building courage, improving my health, healing and moving on.

The real question is, what happens if we drop all the labels? What remains? 

Maybe the best all of us can do this year is just to keep our heads above water. If we can remain above the surface and keep breathing, I think that is enough.

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

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 ❤

Lessons from the children

This past month, my job has consisted of playing hide and seek, making colorful crafts, singing Itsy Bitsy Spider and using flash cards to teach words such as butterfly and pencil case to four adorable children. Well, adorable when they're not arguing, being mischievous or hugging me with muddy hands anyway. After five weeks of summer camp, the kids have certainly improved their English but at the same time, they have taught me a great deal. Other than the obvious lessons, like living in the moment and being brutally honest, here are some of the things I learned from the kids this summer: 

How to do a handstand 

Well, sort of. In the break, the kids would always run out into the garden yelling: Teacher, teacher - let's gooo! while cartwheeling down the hill. At the bottom they would pick up the hula hoops and continue their circus tricks. I've never been able to do a cartwheel or spin a hula hoop in my life but I have been working on handstands in my yoga practice so after an initial attempt to escape, I gave in and joined the kids on the grass. The idea of peacefully sipping a cup of tea while watching them play had disappeared on the first day anyway. 

At first, I was terrible. I was told to go and practice against a wall because my knees were too bent. Then, once I got that down, there was still the small matter of trying to land on my feet. The kids would slowly shake their little heads in disbelief while watching me repeatedly fall over. Teacher - you need practice, the oldest girl proclaimed with a solemn look on her face. She was absolutely right but then again, practice does make perfect. I'm proud to announce that on the last day I managed to do both a cartwheel and a handstand and I was even able to spin the hula hoop around a couple of times. Okay, so it wasn't perfect but at least the kids cheered and clapped and for some reason, looking at the world upside down makes me happy.

How to negotiate

A completed worksheet is rewarded with a small sticker. Five small stickers earns you one big sticker and if you collect five big ones, you'll receive a present at the end of the week. Not hitting your classmates and and helping to clean up means you've deserved a candy that day. Finishing the educational games with a perfect score gives you the right to play a computer game of your choice for five minutes. A promise of good behaviour can extend the break with ten minutes. Everything is negotiable. Everything is a choice.

How to win someone over with your smile

An Ecuadorian friend told me once that if I smile at him, he'll do anything I want and that's how I feel about the kids. That must be why they are so good at negotiating. Apparently, crawling up into my arms and giving me a sweet (albeit toothless) smile is how you can obtain anything from stickers to candy to longer breaks. It's also a good way to secure a permanent spot in my teacher heart.

Curious to try out this seemingly effective technique, I decided to beam brightly at the slow-moving Ecuadorians who have been working on my terrace for ages now. Their job was supposed to be finished months ago but every week a new "obstacle" seemed to appear. Now, I didn't go anywhere near their dusty arms but a simple smile turned out to be enough. Two days later I came home to find that all the tiles had been laid out and this morning I was finally able to roll out my mat and do sun salutations outside. Result!

How to not be afraid of showing affection

The youngest girl in the group jumped onto my lap already on the first day. She couldn't remember my name but she obviously had no fear whatsoever of being rejected. Every day she'd skip down the stairs two steps at a time while holding my hand and trusting that I wouldn't let her fall. The other kids took a little longer to warm up but soon enough they all started fighting over who would get to sit next to me during story time and they were also constantly hugging me and asking me to braid their hair or give them piggyback rides.

Even though I'm quite happy to go back to teaching adults next week (my back is killing me), I'm going to miss the kids and their precious smiles. We can learn so much from their fearless attitude. As adults, sometimes we don't even try because we're afraid of failure. Or perhaps there's an even greater fear that some day, we might succeed. Because when we do, we have to ask ourselves the following question: If I can accomplish this, then what's stopping me from getting what I really want? There are no more excuses. What's the worst that can happen anyway?

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.

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. 

An open letter of gratitude

I recently read somewhere that feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping up a present and then not giving it. So this is my way of saying thank you to some of the beautiful souls that inspired me to start this journey. 

One year ago, I went on a yoga retreat to Koh Phangan in Thailand, a place known for its healing powers and its infamous full moon parties. I was looking forward to a few weeks of beach life, sunshine and yoga, but I really had no idea just how much those weeks in the jungle would change my life. At first, I was extremely uncomfortable. It was hot and humid and there was a gecko in my bathroom that would stare at me every time I came in to take a shower. However, already on the second day of the retreat I noticed a shift in my energy. I started to feel a connection not only to the beautiful nature and wildlife surrounding us but also to the other people in my group. We were all strangers from different parts of the world who had landed here on this funny little island and I believe we were all meant to be there at exactly that time.

I got to know so many brave, inspiring people who had left their settled lives behind just to travel the world, unsure of where they were going next or even what they were looking for, just knowing that they wanted something more out of life, something different. They were all so witty and bright and so unafraid to open up their hearts and speak their truths. I learned something from each and everyone on that retreat and I'm so thankful that our paths crossed right there and then.

During those short weeks at Pure Flow Yoga, we practiced and improved our downward-facing dogs, warriors, and headstands but we also learned the importance of gratitude, for the good as well as for the bad, and perhaps most importantly, we were taught how to love ourselves.

One night, during a discussion under the full moonlight, I learned that if your fridge is full of healthy food, you won't be tempted when someone walks by with pizza. In other words, if you have love for yourself, you won't need to depend on anyone else because you already have everything you need. That being said, you may still want to accept what others are offering you (be that love or pizza or both) but if so it will be by choice, not necessity.

I also learned that being cynical is a waste of time. It was just a random comment thrown out after one of our meditation sessions but I heard it. I really, really heard it. From that moment on, I began dedicating my yoga practice to the man who had bruised my heart prior to the retreat and amazingly, as the weeks went by and my body felt stronger and stronger, I felt lighter and lighter.

This past year of my life has had so many ups and downs; it has been so incredibly wonderful and so incredibly difficult all at once. Over and over again, I have questioned my decision to move to South America but every time those doubts creep in, I keep hearing our yoga teacher's voice, loud and clear: 

Take the leap and the net will appear.

So here I am, leaping. I'm terrified of falling but maybe, just maybe, I will learn how to fly.