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A different type of bonding

"Beep beep!" a loud honk screamed for the 1000thnd time, followed by a sudden about- turn of the Tuk- Tuk and strong nausea from my part.

The other bus is roaring quickly past us, shortly before we arrive the curve bedded in the valleys of Northern Laos, leading me to squeeze my eyes shut.

"Well, that was lucky, we almost crashed" were my thoughts, disapproved by the frequent repetitions of the same procedure. This was rather the combination of pure driving skills and the driver´s confusion of the road with a rally than luck.

My plan was to go to Laos and teach Buddhist monks in English and here I was now, finding myself in a Tuk- Tuk with Keanu, one of the monks I am teaching, on a four hours ride through remote jungle villages followed by children running after us and screaming "Farang", the Lao description for white foreigners, while pointing at me. Keanu has asked me to accompany him to visit his family, which he has not seen since one year, as monks are not allowed to possess money, hence could not afford transportation.

 Feeling like the protagonist of someone else´s book, we arrived in a little village embedded in rice patties and surrounded by mango trees. Keanu directed me into a tiny house where people were kissing him and smiling at me welcomingly.

"They are very glad you are here, some of them never saw a foreign person, my aunt just walked seven hours from her village to see you", Keanu stated.

Big brown eyes staring at me with a combination of fascination and confusion while smiling confirmed just that.

Everyone sat around now in a circle and commodities, like money, sweets and more were passed around in order to sacrifice and generate luck for everyone participating in the ceremony. Carried by the positive attitude I found myself in front of a whole glass full of 80% rice liquor.

"To purify the soul" Keanu stated.

"Well, how could I say no to that" I responded, not adding "at 11 in the morning!!".

Needless to say that I was quite tipsy when a whole cooked chicken was passed around.

Everyone had to rip off and eat something. The person before me opened the mouth of the cooked chicken, pulled out its tongue and was eating it with pleasure.

"I am really sorry, I am sure this chicken must be delicious but I am vegetarian," I said, which was actually not just an excuse.

"No problem at all, so you can smell the chicken" Keanu assured me confidently.

Well, so I smelled the chicken and everyone seemed relieved.

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The surrealism of Chile´s Atacama desert. Where is the beginning, where the end?

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Raise your words,

Not your voice.

It is rain that grows flowers,

Not thunder.

-Rumi

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Trust- free of fears.

Just being positive.

Using “or” instead of “but”.

There is not such thing as craziness. 

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Coffee and nature- What could be better?

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Getting closer and closer to volcano Osorno in the Lake District, Patagonia. While discovering the wilderness of the beautiful South of Chile.

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An attempt of hiking in national park Torres Del Paine

One week of  hiking in Torres Del Peine- Everything was planned; Nothing went to plan

You could say that Torres Del Peine is Chile’s most famous national park, located in the very South of Chile, offering outstanding nature for every outdoor fanatic and a paradise for hikers.

Even though I never considered myself to be a hiking enthusiast, the well-known image of Torres Del Peine’s astonishing nature convinced me to give it a try.

No sooner said than done, tickets were booked and I found myself in the supermarket thinking about what kind of food to buy for one week in the wild (needless to say, there is no internet in the national park and if they supply food it is significantly more expensive). My sister and I ended up with two loaves of bread, peanut butter, jam, pickles, some fruits, energy bars and a rather large amount of cookies and chocolate. “Should be enough for one week, right? Or do you think we have too much sweet stuff?” She asked me.

“We’ll be fine I guess, we will need the energy!” I answered, confidentially.When sitting in airport transfer, however, I was suddenly not so confident. “One hour before boarding; this bus better moves faster,” I muttered to myself, and, just as if the bus driver had heard me, at that very moment the bus broke down, with no hope of it continuing onwards. As we all filed off the bus passengers were confused, as a large crowd of people started running by the bus. Great, we were in the middle of a marathon. Time passed, all too slowly, and after half an hour we started moving again. However, we were far too late to catch our plane to Puerto Natales, which was only confirmed by the disapproval of the stewardess at the check-in.

But it could have been worse! For only a “small” amount of money (18.000 Pesos) we were able to change our tickets to the travel destination Puerto Montt never heard of it? It’s also in Patagonia- vamos! On the bright side, whatever this place would be like, we had enough food to last us a week.

Without any expectations, we jumped on the next plane to Puerto Montt and were left speechless by its surrounding beauty when we landed.

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Chile- Departure to a new world

Just all settled in and already up to a new country. Although Chile was the aim all along, once the time arrived to leave Onechaco for good I felt like a cat who holds on to the carpet while its owner tries to lift it up. What a transition! The chaos, simplicity and nonexistent fear of contact of the people,  which overburdened me at the beginning of my trip, where now the things I missed immediately when arriving at the clean and organized airport of Santiago de Chile.  Although Chile´s cordillera* and Santiago´s location in the cauldron of the Andes already left me speechless all the way up in my airplane. In this strip of a country, diversity became a totally new meaning, leaving me with the willingness to absorb those precious moments and discover new customs and culture. Especially the connectivity to nature, despite living  in a 6 million metropolis, as well as art and music as part of everyday life are features I would not want to miss anymore. I arrived at the other side of the world and felt like I have always been here.

*mountain range

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What is it that makes you so happy about traveling?

Time to talk philosophy for a bit. It is that question I came across several times and was discussing with fellow travelers.

Besides seeing incredible places and meeting new people, we came to a simple pattern that seems like one of the thousand keys to happiness and if applied to "normal" life might have the same outcome:

Traveling= Seeing the bigger picture + being happy about the small things in life

Meaning that even if something bad happens- like me being in Laos, inhabited by parasites, spending days on the toilette, not able to eat properly for two weeks- it is still part of the experience and does not reduce the worthiness of the whole trip. Because there just have been moments that are making the unpleasantness worth a hundred times. Taking it as it comes, seems simple but proved so right.

Or to just say it with the words of Paolo Coelho: “There are moments when troubles enter our lives and we can do nothing to avoid them. But they are there for a reason. Only when we have overcome them will we understand why they were there.” 

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“None of us knows what might happen even the next minute, yet still we go forward. Because we trust. Because we have Faith.” ― Paulo Coelho, Brida

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Huaraz- A weekend to unknown heights

 With the warning of altitude sickness and better taking  two days adjusting when traveling to Huaraz, we sat in the seven hours night bus from sea- level Huanchaco up to 3000 meters, for just a weekend trip of course. Living in the Netherlands a two hours journey is already a long distance trip while once in Latin America distance and time becomes indeed relative. So, why not changing from 0 to 5000 meters (considering the upcoming hikes), driving seven hours on a Friday night, arriving at five in the morning at a remote bus station where of course our previous arranged pick up is not there, freezing to death until finally we reach our hostel, drink a cup of coca tea which causes the strangest dreams, sleep one hour until an aggressive hike starts, walk seven hours up straight to my first 5000s, get sick from altitude badly, push your limits to max and drive back on Sunday night completely finished, in one weekend.

Experiencing the incredible nature and looking at the pictures, however, it´s all worth it.

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Between the width of sand and ocean, the old empire of the Chimú, streetart and surf.

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Going with the flow- Being part of the micro-system

After being confronted with a first cultural shock and my own fears I reached a state of pure relaxation which could not even be distressed by current lines exploding over my head, the night whistle´s or the Peruvian guys hitting on you in the local pubs or salsatecas with an exceptional persistence.

"You should go home with me, I have a nice house at the beachside."

"I am sorry, but I have a boyfriend."

"So? And I have a bike, two things that do not matter."

Soon everyone knew who was living and volunteering in the village and vice versa. It was impossible to go outside for 5 minutes and not chatting with one of the kids I taught in school, their parents or teachers, or  to be approached by someone who wants to show you how to surf.

"If you manage to stand up, I will buy you a Pisco Sour* tonight at Brainy´s salsa evening."

It was then that I heard of the most seen and known person of Huanchaco,  before I even met him, "Brain". He is like the unspoken mayor of the village, teaching Salsa on Wednesdays and cruzing around on his quad the other times. Sometimes with a bottle of beer in the one hand and a cigarette in the other, grinning with a childish innocence.

Of course one´s personality grows with experiences like this with the awareness that volunteering is never just an one way street- It is not just the community benefitting from volunteers, if that´s even the case, but also really much yourself.

Once I actually led go of expectations, fears and the cultural standards I was used to, Huanchaco unfolded its beauty and I was more than happy to be part of it for a while.

*Pisco Sour is a typical Peruvian and Chilean cocktail made of the liquor Pisco, which is a certain type of Brandy, lemon and beaten egg whites. Peru and Chile have both been arguing for centuries about who invented this beverage with the conclusion that it actually was made first in the Elqui Valley of Chile. Which I would know by hard when actually traveling to Chile.

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Una Gringita* más in America Latina

First stop Huanchaco, Peru. Never heard of it, never been in Latin America, never lived in a Spanish speaking country- Here I am.

After extensive studies about Latin America, Spanish and many travels it was time for me to discover this part of the world. It seemed not to be a continent where I just grab my backpack and fly into the country like many times before- But I did so anyway. Somehow I do not want to see even pictures of the place I am going to beforehand. That way I do not create an image of the place and it is always a surprise, like wrapping presents at Christmas- you don´t really know what´s in your package. Of course you always have already a picture in your mind, starting with TV news (which actually never report from Latin America unless it is about corruption, drugs and murder) up to your own imagination based on what other people said.

So, here I was in Huanchaco, a small surfer- village close to Trujillo in the North of Peru. Volunteering in a school and helping with literacy in the slums not too far from Huanchaco´s "centre".

When arriving, a cultural shock did not spare me: Gangs of dogs on the street (of course I was not vaccinated against rabies), the only person living in my hostel, in a tiny house with a ribbed roof (other houses did not even have roofs), everything coated with sand and random people talking to me on the street:  "Hey, I know in what hostel you are living", or "Do you know where Brain´s birthday party is today?". While whistles at night left me alone with the wildest fantasies of drug cartels and organized robbery.

Switching from this first moment to the following weeks, even months considering my further trips to Chile, Argentina and Bolivia I have to grin like a Cheshire cat. That´s what I love about traveling. This first impression was not wrong, it is just the perspective that changes while your boundaries are pushed and your pulled out of your comfort zone- no matter how many times you´ve traveled before!

*I am not from the U.S. "Gringa" is basically a description for every white person and with the ending -ita a belittled version.