I didn’t change anyone’s life

 

A year ago today, I was in LaPaz, Bolivia. The week before we were doing a homestay on a small island in Lake Titicaca, and the week before that we were walking up Machu Picchu. With so much travel behind me, I approached Bolivia with the intention of staying put for a while. I planned to volunteer to teach English somewhere to get my bearings, reorganize my backpack, and improve my Spanish. After extensive google searches for volunteer positions in Bolivia, I settled on a small children’s daycare called Luz del Mundo in Santa Cruz. 

When I arrived in Santa Cruz after my overnight bus from LaPaz, I hopped in a taxi and told the driver the address of my homestay. We flew through roundabouts in the downtown streets until we turned and I began to see tall gates surrounding buildings. It took me a minute to realize that those gates were around houses, and that we had entered a residential area. When the taxi stopped, I saw an 8-foot fence surrounding the house I would be living in. The gate was locked, and I didn’t have a key. Within a moment of my arrival, a short man walked up to me on the sidewalk and asked “Kerri?” He handed me two keys on a Munich key chain. I unlocked the padlock on the gate and let myself in. Not knowing where to go, and realizing no one was home, I walked to the back of the house where there was an open court area. I sat and read about Santa Cruz in my guidebook until the owner of the house came home. “Kerri? Porque… why are you here? Your room is there with your name on it,” she said, pointing at a brown door across the court with a little white sign on it. I dropped off my bags into my little brown room, and even arranged a few items on the bookshelves. It felt like I was decorating.

My first day on the job, I woke up early to take a bus with Katharina, a German anthropology student living and working in Santa Cruz. She smelled of chlorine, and offering me a pamphlet, invited me to swim with her in the mornings. At the side of the road, she hailed a small white bus and told me “You can take the 21, the 65, and the 120 from here, but I think the 21 is the fastest.” She paid the 15 cent fare for both of us and we found two seats at the back of the bus. Everyone watched as we climbed to the back of the bus. “They stare, so I just stare back,” she explained, “there aren’t many people who look like you or me here.” She pulled out a bag with two buns inside and told me these were her favourite local food. “It’s cuñapé, like a heavenly cheese bread that everyone seems to eat here even though no one gets fat”. Little did I know I’d become addicted to cuñapé, not only because it was delicious, but also because it was one of few things I learned how to order in the bakery.

  
After about 45 minutes through the city streets, trying to remember all of the information Katharina was offering me while also trying to memorize landmarks to make sure I could do the journey on my own, she motioned to get off soon. “You can tell it’s coming because the streets get muddy.” I looked down and noticed the dirt street was splattered with muddy puddles, despite the dry sunny weather.

“They have a very poor sewage system here, and people just leave their garbage everywhere, so there are some parts of the road that never dry up.” She yelled for the bus driver to let us off, and we were greeted by a gust of dusty wind and the smell of sewage. “What did you say to the bus driver just then?” I asked. “Pare por favor, which just means stop.”

We walked through a dusty setup of stalls with garbage on the ground, and everyone stared again. “I told you there aren’t many people like us around here.” She explained that the foundation is for underprivileged children of divorced parents. “Since these kids have poor parents, they live in the poor area, so our daycare is here so they can walk.” The street was a dirt road with puddles in the middle. As we approached Luz del Mundo, I heard the familiar sound of children laughing.

When we walked in, I was greeted by a smiling Gabriela, the founder of the daycare. After introducing myself, I was informed that the daycare is only open 4 days a week, so I wouldn’t be needed everyday. Contemplating what to do with my extra time, I sat at a table where some kids were cutting out animal shapes from cardboard. “Me llamos Kerri…” I let out, “cuál es tu nombre?” The reply was incomprehensible, so I asked her to repeat. For the next ten minutes, this little girl repeated her full name over and over, between sighs, and insisted I repeat it. Then, satisfied with my rendition of her name, she asked me why I didn’t understand Spanish.

Point taken. I joined a beginner Spanish course at Kolping in the afternoons, and began to study Spanish formally for the first time in my life. The school seemed like the YMCA, as there were kids in ballet costumes running around the first floor. My instructor was Gladys, and I studied with two others, a French student and a Japanese office worker. I felt happy to finally be nurturing the language fanatic in me.

 
That night, I received an email from Gabriela at Luz del Mundo telling me that they were doing construction, and that I wouldn’t need to come in the next day. Then another email the following night to tell me not to come in again because of a holiday. It was clear that I wouldn’t be needed as much as I thought, so my homestay host connected me with Casa de la Mujer, an organization supporting women’s equality in South America. I went there the next morning to offer my services as a volunteer with nonexistent Spanish, and remarkably they wanted me. My first job was to take un-catalogued books from the library and to put them into the computer system. I felt like I was actually working, which felt nice.

Within a week of arriving, I’d started Spanish classes, volunteered once at the daycare, and started volunteering at the organization for women. In my free time between volunteering and studying, I walked the downtown streets and visited the same coffee shop every afternoon. I’d order my café con leche with a croissant from the same waitress and sit at the same table to do my homework. I quickly made a routine for myself, and enjoyed the novelty of becoming a creature of habit.

During my second time volunteering at the daycare, I asked Gabriela about teaching. She said I could do whatever I wanted with the kids, but that they really liked art. There was nothing that looked scholarly about the place – it consisted of a swing set, some picnic benches, a washing up station, a dusty drum kit, some board games, and tables with little stools under them. No blackboard, no chalk, no books. I realized that I might do less teaching and more arts and crafts than I expected.

Since my Spanish was still not great, I ended up having the most fun with the kids when I gave them piggybacks. Two weeks of my life was spent piggybacking these kids from one end of the daycare to the other and back. And it was fine with me, because making those kids happy made me happy.

When I returned to Casa de la Mujer, I sat back at the computer where I finished cataloguing the books and I was left alone without another task. A woman walked by and saw me idle, and invited me to follow her. She let me into a recording studio where live radio was taking place. I sat quietly and listened to the voices around the corner. This became my new favourite place at the women’s organization. The young man who controlled the soundboard helped me with my homework and couldn’t believe I’d been to Asia. He played Bolivian rap for me on his phone. I played Arcade Fire for him. Although I wasn’t really working, I was still sharing my life with someone.

  
After spending six months travelling through South America, I can confidently say that nothing ever goes exactly as planned there. Bus schedules are rearranged without notice, and prices change day to day. A promised beautiful hostel with wi-fi turns out to be a cobwebbed house with chickens to wake you up at 5:00am.

  
Naturally, my time in Bolivia didn't go as I anticipated, either. I didn’t learn as much Spanish or teach as much English as I thought I would. I didn’t change anyone’s life, and I didn’t make any lasting friendships. But, none of that matters.

Life doesn’t tend to go as we plan it. In fact, if I asked myself where I would be in one year back when I was in Bolivia, I would have said I’d be in Korea now. But, life happens, things change, and now I’m writing this blog post from my apartment in Toronto, overlooking the city skyline. What would my one-year-ago self say to that? She’d probably smile, shrug her shoulders, and say there must be a reason for being in Toronto.

I made a few people smile in Santa Cruz, and that’s enough reason to do anything.

Thank you, Brenna, for helping me get my words back on the page.

The Prettiest City in South America

Yes, South America is beautiful. The surfy seas, the cloudy mountains, the endless deserts, the deep jungles, and the cities which are situated among these landscapes.

Cusco, however, captured my heart because it is simply a beautiful city. It is surrounded by mountains, and the main square is framed by two stunning old churches. It was - by miles on the Inca trail - the prettiest city I've been to in South America.

That being said, I haven't made it to Rio yet...

5 Real Tips for Travelling in South America

Tortuga Bay, Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

1. Be scared, but not too scared

There were some cities where I didn't go out past 9pm for fear of what lurks in the dark. There were hostels with signs up warning of thefts on the hostel grounds. There were travellers with stories of being held up at knife-point in the mornings, and even being mugged with a screwdriver. And more than one story of over-friendly locals turning sour. There were a few taxi rides where it occurred to me that the taxi driver could be taking me anywhere, down any alley way, and could hold me up and take everything. There were even a few times when I took the memory card out of my camera and shoved it in my pocket, to save my photos in case someone stole my purse. There were dangers, there were fears, and there were moments when I really didn't know if everything was okay. Being a little bit scared helped me stay safe, make wise decisions, and keep my guard up when I needed it.

Lake Titicaca, Peruvian/Bolivian border

2. Go with someone

Travelling with my friend helped a lot, as our two brains together worked well to keep us aware and safe, and paying attention to the things around us. She and I both had moments of being scared, and usually the other could logically calm down the situation.

We met a lot of couples on this trip, and met far few solo travellers in South America than we had met in Southeast Asia or Europe. We both experienced a few weeks of solo time in South America, and agreed that it was safer and much more fun to travel South America with a friend.

La Paz, Bolivia

3. Buy everything

Alpaca sweaters, blankets, scarves, musical instruments, coffee, handmade necklaces, shoes, teacups, ponchos, pillow cases, friendship bracelets, jackets, toys, statues...

Cusco, Peru

4. Trust your instincts

When I arrived by night bus in Buenos Aires by myself early in the morning, I planned on taking a taxi into the city centre. I walked around and checked out my options for "secure taxis" (a safe taxi service company), and also checked out the normal taxi area. When I came outside, a man greeted me and asked "taxi?" and I said yes. I then noticed a row of taxis ready to go, and the man shook his arm no, and told me that all those taxi drivers were on their coffee breaks. I then thanked him and went inside to get a secure taxi.

Why did I do that?

Because, if something seems too outlandish to be true, it probably is. [Were ALL those taxi drivers really taking their coffee breaks at the same time, making the man talking to me the ONLY available taxi driver? I think not.] When strangers come up to talk to you or offer you things, evaluate their behaviour, and listen to your gut if you get a bad feeling. I listened to my instincts on this trip, and more than a few times I'm certain it saved me from a potentially bad situation.

Pichilemu, Chile

5. Go to South America now

Peru has been a hotspot for South American travel for decades, and in high season up to 5,000 visitors might see Machu Picchu in a day. Colombia, however, is still not too touristic, and neither is Bolivia (beyond La Paz and the Uyuni desert). These two countries will become more popular as more people visit, and they too will become more established stops on the South America gringo trail. And Ecuador? Who knows if tourists will continue to be allowed to visit the Galapagos islands in large numbers. If you go now, you can still feel the warmth of Colombian hospitality, see the magic of people walking in traditional hats and clothes in La Paz, and come face to face with the wildlife of the Galapagos. And yes, Peru is touristy, but it's so beautiful you wouldn't want to miss it.

If you're reading this, you've already got some interest in South America, so why not make 2013 the year to see the Andes in real life?

I Got Mugged in South America

Exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Santiago, Chile

It happened. After 6 months of travelling and listening to other people's stories of muggings, it happened to me.

On the afternoon of the incident, I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Santiago, Chile. I had a fun time walking through exhibitions of light and sound, as well as getting inspired for my own creative endeavours. After an hour in the museum, I came outside to a sunny staircase where I had seen a girl sitting earlier. I thought to myself "why not have a seat and soak up some sun" and took a seat on the stairs. There were others around, sitting on the grass nearby; couples kissing, friends eating, people biking. I felt so relaxed and happy, and warmed by the light of the sun on my skin.

After a few moments of quiet relaxation, it occurred to me that I should confirm the location of the hostel of my friend whom I was meeting that evening. Without much thought, I pulled out my phone and swiped through my pictures to find the map. Happy to be seeing this old friend again, (who I first met in Peru, then again in Argentina, who I would now see in Chile!), I was in my own world.

*SWOOSH*

As fast as a gust of wind, a guy ran up behind me, grabbed my phone, and ran down the stairs. What was in my hand a moment ago as a tool was not in my hand anymore.

All action, not thought.

I yelled "No! No!" and ran down the stairs after him. "Stop! Help me! He stole my phone! Stop!" I yelled as I ran after him. Someone got up from the grass and chased after him. I chased after the both of them, still yelling for help. They ran around the block to the front of the Museum of Fine Arts, and when I turned the corner after them, they were both gone. Onlookers wide-eyed and stunned stared at me, and I yelled "Where are they!?" and I was pointed onwards. I kept running, and realized my shirt had come unbuttoned during the chase. Holding my shirt closed with one hand, I kept running to find the man who was helping me standing next to a parked car. I ran up to him, coming to the realization that the thief was gone, along with my phone. All the photos, videos, and memories of South America, gone in a second.

As I reached him, out of breath and panting, I asked "where is he?" and the man pointed down at the car. I walked around to the other side of the car to see the thief crouched down by the front wheel. He looked like a little mouse who had stolen a piece of cheese. The man then said, "Give her back her phone!" in a fantastic display of heroism. The thief pulled the phone from his pocket, and handed it up to me while saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" repeatedly.

My phone was in my hands again.

Instinctively, I hugged the man who helped me, and still catching my breath, thanked him. "I don't speak much Spanish, but thank you" I uttered through coughs, in broken Spanish. He replied that it was nothing, and we walked away from the parked car to the front of the museum. Deer-in-headlights stares from onlookers continued, and I realized again in that moment that my shirt was still undone. I buttoned it up as two friends walked up to the man who helped me. Spoken in rapid Spanish, I heard a re-cap of events which ended with "You got it back!?"

I made more attempts at a Spanish thank you:

"Without your help, I wouldn't have a phone anymore." + "I can't run fast." + "I want to buy you a present."

"A present?" He laughed, and I gave him another hug and a kiss on the cheek. I said to his friends "Keep him, he's a gentleman."

"Well, he's my brother, so yes I will keep him." His sister replied, and we laughed.

With that, we parted ways, and I sat on a bench in front of the museum counting my lucky stars. Or my four leaf clovers. Or my guardian angels.

I also contemplated my stupidity to chase after a potentially dangerous person. He could have had a knife, or a group of friends waiting for him, or a car... anything could have happened. I was just so lucky that the thief was alone, and that we were able to stop him.

As a female traveller, I am obligated to think about the worst situations that can occur on the road, both as a foreign person, and as a female. I also think about what I would do if in one of those situations. I've always maintained that if I was in a position to do so, I would draw attention to myself by yelling.

I realized my strategy was a good one in this situation. Yelling for help brought help to me. People looked, and they knew something was wrong. Despite the fact that only one person actually got up and chased him with me, it only took the two of us stop the thief.

I had been in Chile for two weeks prior to this incident, and in those two weeks I felt a great increase in quality of living compared to the other major cities of South America. Santiago has big shiny buildings, people using iphones on the subway, and it felt very world class to me. For this reason, I acted in ways I hadn't acted in place like Peru or Ecuador, where I felt less personal security. I never would have sat in a public park in Lima with my iphone out, and I let my guard down in Santiago.

After this mugging, I was reminded again that I'm not invincible. No matter how comfortable I feel in a place, I have to remember that an iphone is a very attractive piece of technology for someone in the market to steal. I never should have sat in public with my phone out, especially so nonchalantly on the stairs of a museum in a park.

I wish all of the other stories of muggings that I heard about while on this trip had happy endings like mine.

Thanks to you, gentleman stranger.

Kittens of South America

Hostel kitten named "Pisco" living at our hostel in Huanchaco, Peru

Resident kitten at the Dive Little Corn scuba shop in Nicaragua

Worn out by the constant attention of all the kids at Luz Del Mundo in Santa Cruz, Bolivia

Kitty who may or may not have a nun for a mum, in Cali, Colombia

I am a cat lover, which is wonderful when I'm at home with my parents cats and can snuggle them to my heart's content. But, as a traveller who lives abroad, it's not easy to have a pet. I have lived for the past 6 years without a cat, and sometimes I really miss having a purring ball of fuzz in my arms.

Lucky for me, South America is full of kittens and cats.

And, unlike street cats in Korea, they are friendly and approach strangers easily.

I've made lots of friends on this trip, and shared a lot of laughs with people I know I'll be seeing again. On this same path, I've met a lot of animals: cats, dogs, horses, sheep, cows, pelicans, iguanas, sharks, sea and giant turtles, and penguins, among others.

Meeting animals on travels can help to bring you into the moment and keep you there, as you interact with an animal for a few moments. In those moments, it doesn't matter where you're from, they won't ask. You transcend your nationality and your budget and all the plans you have, and simply connect with an animal as you always have when at home or in other places.

A purring cat in your lap is beautiful and magical, be it in a beach town hostel in Peru or in your own bed.

What are your experiences with meeting animals on the road?

*This post is dedicated to my parents' cat named Beary, who passed away at the age of 18 while I was travelling this fall. I heard from my mom that he was purring right up until his last breath, so I hope he is resting in peace.*

The next year of my life

A happy afternoon spent wine tasting in Mendoza, Argentina

Sitting here in my hostel in Mendoza, I try to envision the next year of my life. It's harder to imagine than it used to be.

Before arriving in South America, I was certain I would return to Korea after finishing this trip. I had a boyfriend there, and full intentions to return to him and the life I have there. Plans involving living in Seoul, working at another Education University, continuing to improve my Korean skills, and deepening my friendships and the life I love in Korea.

That was before South America.

That was before these magical countries captured a place in my heart that I never knew was there. A place that loves the warmth of red wine, the wild beats of salsa, the romance of speaking Spanish, and the vast mountain and ocean landscapes. As I spend my days here amazed by the sheer diversity of natural beauty before me, part of me wonders why I wouldn´t try living here.

The other part of me, the Asia-loving, chopstick weilding, funny sticker booth photo-taking, rice field admiring, crowded subway riding, Korean speaking, public sauna attending part of me... it longs for Asia, and in particular, Korea. I miss it so deeply, and only the Korean phrase "그리워요" seems to express my longing appropriately.

Sometimes, when you travel the world, you end up so positively open that you can fall in love with almost any place. It´s just a case of finding the place which will make you the happiest. Here, as I continue to travel, I need to start making that choice.

Impossible Possibles in Uyuni

I came face to face with a dinosaur (who I outran)

I played football with a soccer ball ten times my size

We hid quietly in someone's running shoe until they came back to find it

Brenna stepped on our new Canadian friend

I kissed a life-size teddy bear where everyone could see

I shrunk my friends and held them in my hands

And we decided to march into a Pringles container, too.

The Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia is the scene for all these possibilities, with crystal white salt until bright blue sky horizons. The blinding sun and reflections off the salt made it very hard to see the preview screen for our cameras, so we couldn't be sure whether we nailed the photos or not until we reviewed them in the car. Once we looked at them, we all laughed and high fived that we managed to capture some impossible moments flawlessly.

Even after an hour of photo taken, we weren't ready to leave the wild landscape.

Travel can bring you to the most amazing places you never even knew existed in the world, and I am so glad I was able to visit this incredible scenery. I'm also glad to know that sometimes, the impossible IS possible with a little creativity.

The likely (and less likely) things I miss from Korea

I've been away from Korea for 4 months now, and I constantly think of things I would love to be able to do if I were in Korea still. From naked scrub-downs to weddings to tears to taxis, here's a list of all the things I miss about Korea:

1. I miss jjimjilbangs

The jjimjilbang is a place of magic, where you can sit in a sauna, soak in hot baths, sleep overnight, and have a facial and a full body scrub down all for less than 30,000 won. After living in Korea for 4 years, I've really embraced the culture of daily exfoliation and scrubbing. I have the exfoliating cloths that they use in my own shower, and enjoy doing it myself, but I usually shell out 18,000 won a month to have the amazing ladies scrub me down. Now that I'm travelling, I don't have access to the amazing scrubbing women, nor to the saunas of Korea. I've tried going to spas to find similar treatments, but everything is far too expensive, and just not the same as Korea. Sigh, my skin needs a good scrub.

[Sidenote: My Korean friends often laugh at me when I say "jjimjilbangs", because I have added the plural "s" to a Korean word. Most Koreans have never heard this word used in English, and laugh hard when they hear it with an "s" at the end. So I implore you to make them laugh, and use the word "jjimjilbangs" next time it comes up.]

2. I miss weddings

My good friends Evan and Rachel just tied the knot in Seoul this weekend. My other friend Himchan (in the above image) married his sweetheart in June. The longer I live in Korea, the deeper my friendships become, and the closer we get to the perfect marrying age. When I first moved to Korea, I was missing my friends' weddings from home, but now that I am away from Korea, I am missing my Korean friends' weddings too. And there's just something about the performance and efficiency of Korean weddings that makes me really love them.

3. I miss my job

I was very lucky in Korea, as I was hired by Jinju National University of Education as one of their conversation instructors in 2010. As soon as I arrived on campus, I was greeted by bright smiles of the students and staff of this small university. Not long after, I felt like I was a part of the small community, and saw a few students and staff become truly close friends of mine. I worked there for 2 years, watching freshman grow into responsible sophomores, watching seniors take on their first teaching jobs, and watching my friendships with co-workers blossom into friendships for life. Upon finishing my contract, I had farewell dinners with students where tears were shed, tears of joy for being grateful to have met, but also tears of having to say goodbye. I am still in contact with a few students, and can't wait for the day when I can visit them again on campus and see how much they have grown.

4. I miss Asia

When I wake up in the morning in my apartment in South Korea, I feel happy to know I am in Asia. Whenever I've been away from Korea for a while, upon arriving back at Incheon airport, I feel like everything is in order again, like I'm in the right place in the world. Now that I've been away for 4 months, and that I'm not sure what my next job will be, I'm fantasizing about flying back into Seoul and starting a new job at a university there.

5. I miss sidedishes

When you eat in a restaurant in Korea, even when eating fast food, your meal is served with sidedishes. Sidedishes usually include kimchi, seaweed, mushrooms, cabbage, fish cakes, and other surprises. When you finish a sidedish you like, it will be refilled free of charge. I love this culture of generosity and sharing, and I long for Korean sidedishes everytime I eat a meal here in South America.

5. I miss the Youtube Community

It's no secret that Youtube is a big part of my life. As a big part of my Youtube life exists in Korea, a lot of my good friends are fellow vloggers. When in Korea, I love collaborating with other vloggers, and featuring them in my videos. I also am a co-organizer of the Seoultube community get togethers, and I am sad to say that I won't be in Korea for the upcoming Seoultube annual gathering in October.

6. I miss taxis

As I am travelling now, taxis are a very common mode of transportation for me. We take them from the bus stations to hostels, and sometimes take them to and from destinations in the city when we don't know the way. However, South America is known for its dodgy taxis and for scamming tourists, and so taking taxis can be a challenge. In Peru, I asked my local friends how to find a safe taxi, and was advised that the locals just look at the driver and try to choose taxi drivers with kind faces. Alone at 9pm as a female in Lima, it's hard to find a taxi driver with a nice looking face. When I stand on the street, gazing into the distance for a taxi, I miss the safety of Korean taxis, and how cheap they are. If only I could bring Korean taxi drivers and prices to Bolivia...

7. I miss set prices

In South America, and in particular in Peru, it seems that prices are nearly always double or more for tourists than they are for locals. Consider Machu Picchu: entrance for foreigners is 128 soles, nearly 8 times the price that Peruvians pay. My Peruvian friends also told me that many shopkeepers will simply double the real price when I ask, simply because of the way I look. Another example is the price of the taxi that I took to meet my Peruvian friends: I paid 20 soles on my way there (a price which I agreed to), and my Peruvian friends negotiated a taxi for just 8 soles for the same route back home. I don't mind paying a bit more as a tourist, though, since I am a guest and I don't speak enough Spanish to negotiate prices. Though price changes happen in Korea sometimes too, I still miss being in a place where I know the approximate price and value of things, and also in a place where many prices are fixed.

Korea may not win on the clean air scale, and might not be tops on the personal space scale either, but it has a lot of great things going for it. The above are just a few of the many things which make my life in Korea very comfortable and enjoyable.

All of the photos in this post come from Expatkerri's Instagram.

Atypically on Machu Picchu

My life is here now, in this hostel in this city, or on this bus, staring out this window.

This past weekend, my life brought me to a place that has been drawing me to South America for years... the magical mountains and ruins of Machu Picchu. My experience at Machu Picchu was more enlightening and less touristic than I might have previously expected, though.

Hiking up a mountain without words, with wind, and breath, and panoramic views of the valleys below leads the mind to places not easily reached when among the throws of daily living. I began contemplating my place in the world, the things I have done, the things I want, and the things I need in my life, as well as the people in it.

I've now ended a relationship with the man who has been closest to me for the last nine months. Sometimes, the road makes life so viceral, and so immediate, that holding on to a love from home becomes too difficult, too trying.

When sitting above the ruins of Machu Picchu, looking down over the mountains below, we were greeted with a beautiful sight. The ruins were visible to us, and within a moment would be hidden behind a layer of clouds blown in. In another moment, the clouds would lift, and the ruins would be visible again. Am I not like the ruins, and the people in my life not like the clouds, passing through? Some clouds linger and stay in our view, while others move past to greet the next mountain tops.

Physically exhausted, and philosophically dazed, I leave Peru in three days. I hope to enter Bolivia with a renewed sense of purpose and determination, knowing that I have followed my intuition.

Even though travel is often sold as an escape from real life, it can also offer a startling perspective on your own life, which is invisible to you when you're in the middle of living it.

For this new perspective on my own reality, travel, I thank you.

Riding Sand Dunes in Peru

 

As our taxi pulled up to the tiny village of Huacachina, after a long day of bus riding from Nazca, I was taken aback by the view. I felt like I was suddenly in the Arabian deserts, worlds away from the beaches of Mancora and the historic lights of Lima.

 

 

Without even trying, I found myself next to an oasis in the middle of the deserts of Peru.

The next natural step was to get in a huge 4x4 with a wild engine and ride the sand dunes like a rollercoaster. And then, once at the top, to ride head-first down the dunes on a small sandboard.

 

It was the sandiest day of my life.

Despite still finding sand in my pockets now 2 weeks later, it remains one of the best activites I've done in Peru.

From the top of a giant pile of sand, I found myself longing for more of this madness. Longing for more of these days where I wake up and don't know that a few hours later I'll have sand in my teeth and a big grin on my face after riding down a steep sand dune. Longing for more moments of life where I can just jump in head-first and feel the wind (and sand) on my skin.