THREE YEARS ON THE ROAD:

LESSONS TRAVEL COMPANIONS UNFORGETTABLE RIDES STOPOVERS MEMORIES CHALLANGES DANGEROUS SITUATIONS FOOD SURPRISES MISFORTUNES TURNED FORTUNE REWARDS

YEAR 1

ROUTE:

Estonia-Latvia-Lithuania-Belarus-Ukraine-Russia-Mongolia-China-Japan-South Korea-Japan-U.S.A. - Canada

ONE LESSON:

Receive free and give free. All what you need will be given.

TRAVEL COMPANION:

SUE: she had never really done a lot of hitchhiking, yet when I said I am leaving it all for the road, wanted to come along. Just the intention of it – how brave, and she actually did it too. We travelled together for two months till Japan and it was a beautiful companionship.

SEVEN UNFORGETTABLE RIDES:

No. 49: A truck driver Anatoly who had travelled the world in a submarine – Sue and I met him in Siberia 200 kilometers from Kansk;

No. 61: Antonio Demaglie – an Italian motorcycling from one ocean to another; Sue and I travelled with him, his jeep and motorcycle for two days from Ulan Ude in Siberia to Ulan Bator, the capital of Mongolia;

No. 94: An ex-monk, now temple master in Japan - took me to Sapporo on Hokkaido island told me how he had walked for 13 years, starting the journey when he was 12 years old with just one 100 yen coin (1US $) in his pocket and never spent it ;

No. 133: Ulrike from Germany who was also travelling around the world - became first my ride from Santa Barbara (U.S.) to San Francisco, but then a friend and travel companion for four days as we travelled on to Eureka and even a bit further;

No. 134: Andrea family touring the states in their motor home - took me all the way from Northern California to Seattle. I met the Andreas again six month later in El Salvador and was invited to spend one amazing vacation with them;

No. 136: Vidhja and Anand from India living in Boston - asked me first if I had a knife and was going to kill them (hihi), but then took me quite bravely across the Canadian border and invited me to spend a vacation with them in Vancouver and Whistler;

No. 137: Oriel who took me from Whistler to Pemberton and then to hot springs from where I hitched a ride on a boat to a music festival on Taxeda island (Canada, BC);

FOUR STOPOVERS:

Kansai Japanese language institute in Osaka, Japan: I had a scholarship to study and do research for four months;

Organic farm in Chiba prefecture near Tokyo, Japan: I was a WWOOF volunteer for two months;

Busan, South Korea: I became a substitute English teacher for several Elementary schools for a month;

Yuu-Yuu farm in Wakkanai, Japan: helped with all kinds of spring works for a month;

ONE MEMORY:

Sue and I hid in the bush to sneak on the Great Wall of China, climbed the tower and slept under the stars until sunrise.

ONE CHALLENGE:

Japan: walked the Salt Road across the mountains for 10 days.

ONE DANGEROUS SITUATION:

On the seventh day of my walk on the Salt Road I sat down by a lake to eat an onigiri (rice ball) when I saw a bear descending a mountain in my direction. I ran and hid in a little refuge from where I dared to come out only about half an hour later when I heard peoples` voices. The elderly couple I met showed me the way out of the woods. The previous day I had lost my way in the snow where I was forced to put up camp. I guess that too could have been a dangerous situation. I slept with all my clothes on and was still cold.

ONE FOOD SURPRISE:

Raw horse meat – basashi: a traditional treat of the Nagano prefecture, Japan.

ONE MISFORTUNE TURNED FORTUNE:

I was denied a Russian visa in Sapporo, Japan, which was my last idea of how to get from Japan to Alaska.

ONE REWARD:

Ticket to America – several fundraisers held by Yuu Yuu farm and the people of Wakkanai (the town called “I do not know” translated from Japanese) got me across the Pacific Ocean on the 26th of June 2008.

YEAR 2

ROUTE:

Canada-Alaska (U.S.A) -Canada-Mexico-Belice-Guatemala-El Salvador-Honduras-Nicaragua-Costa Rica-Panama-Colombia-Ecuador

ONE LESSON:

One world-one family-one language-one religion; you can not see it nor hear it, only feel it. No-one is a stranger, nothing is strange if you accept everything and everyone just the way they are.

TRAVEL COMPANION:

Miguel – an American architect who wanted to know what travelling without money felt like. We had many amazing adventures on the road and on water hitchhiking from Punta Mona – an organic permaculture farm in Costa Rica through Panama to San Blas islands in the Caribbean. This journey lasted one month.

TEN UNFORGETTABLE RIDES:

No. 159: Keith, my martial arts teacher – said he could take me ten miles up the road from Fairbanks, yet instead ended up travelling with me 1500 kilometers: all the way to Prudhoe Bay near the Arctic Ocean and then to the Pacific on Kenai Peninsula;

No. 167: Brian, a young lad who followed the sun in his old Volvo - took me for four days from Slana, Alaska to Lake Luis, near Calgary, Canada;

No.169: An Indian man Lal who instead of going where he had intended to, turned his car around and brought me to the farm of his Mennonite friends in Gem, Canada where I spent four days, sharing travelogues and making presentations in Mennonite and Hutterite communities.

No. 178: Mennonite girls Anita and Hannah – picked me up in beautiful Ontario and invited me to share a Sunday in their community.

No. 198: Charles Andre – who instead of dropping me off at the crossroad to New Brunswick, took me home to Gaspe where I stayed for one week and met many beautiful people;

No. 214: Morley Googoo – a Native American chief who for his air miles got me a ticket to Mexico and two books of Eckhart Tolle;

No. 226: A Bulgarian guy Pavel travelling Mexico with a Spanish girl Carmen picked me up and “kept me” for one spectacular road trip for a week;

No. 258: Diego – a potter who picked me up in Costa Rica helped me meet an indigenous community of the Chorotega Indians in Guaitil where I lived for two months ;

No. 283: Mike – an American guy who “adopted” me and Miguel for a week in Panama, Santa Fe.

No. 300: Gasoline boat – we had to wait on shore for three days to get on, took us to San Blas islands. It was five more boats, partly hitchhiked, partly paid for, that took me all the way to South America.

FIFTEEN STOPOVERS:

Whistler, Canada: I spent two weeks with a bunch of friends in many beautiful places – around Whistler, on the boat to Vancouver and to Taxeda Island and on the music festival and again in Whistler. Although with so much travelling I perhaps should not call it a stopover, but because it was “off the road” and because I had same people around me, it felt like a break.

Kasilof, Alaska: I lived in a small macrobiotic community called Ionia in the woods of Kenai Peninsula cooking, sewing, picking berries, harvesting seaweed, practicing martial arts and learning-learning-learning everything from everyone for a month. Their children had never been to school, yet were wonderful, talented, happy and intelligent. Now how did that happen? I liked being macrobiotic, I was part of Ionia. Yet it was September, the trees turned yellow, I had to turn South.

Gaspe in Quebec, Canada: Thanks to my ride who did not drop me off where I was supposed to go, but took me home, I became a psychologist and had to do “The Desert Test” I had learned in Japan to all friends of Anne and Charles Andre and to the friends of their friends. I was on the frisbee team, I was thrown a surprise birthday-party, I was on a sailboat, I was in a National Park, I was so happy and felt so welcome that all of my fear of being in Quebec without knowing French, seemed all of a sudden ridiculous. Understanding stands beyond the language – I was reminded every day.

Nova Scotia, Canada: The world of Morley Googoo – Native American chief of the Waycobah first nation (the Mi´kmaq) was full of luxury. I lived in Halifax, Nova Scotia and later in the first nation reserve in Whycocomagh for about two weeks wondering how this had happened: First, our seemingly random meeting by hitchhiking, Second – that I had a ticket to go to Mexico, and Third – that compared to the poverty and misery that the North American First Nation had to cope with all over the continent, the Mi´kmaq were quite different: they had money, they used expensive vehicles, they knew their language and even practiced their old rituals although in new apartments. Morley became a good friend of mine, who treated me like an honored guest, yet allowed me to be a school janitor when I wanted that. I was then given a computer and gave nine presentations about hitchhiking around the world to the Mi´kmaq youth at the community school. “It is a return ticket,” – told me Morley as he was sending me off in Halifax International Airport, “You can always come back!”

Quezaltenango, Guatemala: it was in Mexico that I heard about good deal Spanish courses in Guatemala, which would give you one on one 5-hour language training and pay for room and board for 100 US $ a week. That was my primary reason to come to Quezaltenango. In the week I spent at school, not only did I learn my first verbs and how to form sentences, but thanks to my teacher Angelica, my pink notebook held several short stories I had written to tell about my travels to the drivers.

All over the country in El Salvador: A surprise letter in my mailbox, gave me directions to look for Andrea family that I had met six month ago in the States by hitchhiking. I spent a top class thanksgiving vacation with good food, canopy tour, and nice waves of the Pacific yet most importantly with good friends. Meeting someone two times on the road that does not go back, but only forward, is very special.

Guaitil , Costa Rica: I spent two month with the Chorotega people of Costa Rica, making pottery. Jesus, Susan their neighbors and children became my family, Guaitil felt like home, clay felt my calling.

Punta Mona, Costa Rica: I was lucky to be able to stay for free on that permaculture farm based in Costa Rican rain forest far away from everything. All other volunteers, if not specially invited, had to pay for their stay, although were working for the place. I was alone going in, yet two weeks later, hiking out we were a group of four friends curious about Panama – Miguel, Jenny, Justin and me.

Waterfall hostel, Panama: This was a place Miguel and I camped free of charge for a week helping out with preparations for a music festival.

Mike´s place in Santa Fe, Panama: Our ride adopted us. Mike, American by nationality, with a beautiful piece of property in Santa Fe, Panama, gave me and Miguel a house to stay in, allowed to eat from every tree in his garden, including the fridge, lent us kayaks to explore his river, showed us around and in everything treated us more like a father would welcome his children who finally came to visit him from far-away, than a host would treat his guests.

Nalunega, one San Blas island in Panama: It would take about five minutes to cross the island walking slowly. Nonetheless in that tiny space and in just a few days that Miguel and I spent with the Kuna people, camping on Nestor´s beach, we discovered quite a different world.

Bogota, Colombia: I had not met an Estonian for over a year, and now they were all over the place. I stayed with an Estonian friend Arvo, then with Marianne, then with Eve on more than one occasions. I also got to be friends with one famous Colombian dentist Marlon Becerra who fixed my teeth without charge and invited me to be his guest on his talk show “Suns and Winds” (“Soles y vientos” in Spanish).

Mesitas del Colegio, Colombia: I came to help an Estonian volunteer Siiri and stay for about two weeks working in an orphanage for boys, instead stayed until the three months I could be in Colombia were up. As always I left for good, yet three weeks later returned to spend another month and a half in Mesitas. I myself was the one most surprised.

Quito, Ecuador: I was supposed to come and go. Arvo had given me a flash memory I had to return to Anna - one German volunteer. She had forgotten it on her visit to Bogota. Two days or so, I said over the phone answering her question on how long was I staying. Instead I stayed for ten days with the new friends I made. Anna invited me to get to know her work at the kindergarten and her friend David convinced me to wait for the music festival his band played on. Meanwhile I helped him with one elementary school graduation program where he worked as a music teacher.

ONE MEMORY:

“Is there an order in the stars?” I asked Miguel one night when we slept on a beach in Panama.
“Of course not,” he replied.
Miguel found me funny; he had said that on several occasions. I believed things happened for a reason and in a chain; while he believed there was a chaos in the stars just as things in life happened randomly and without any reason-consequence-connection to one another.
“So why do you think you broke your tooth then?” he asked me.
“I don´t know, but will tell you later,” I replied and kept my promise a few month later when I wrote him an email from Colombia. A star-dentist Marlon Becerra had fixed all of my teeth for free and invited me to be his guest on a talk-show “Soles y vientos”. One program became two programs and both were repeated half a year later when I came to Colombia again.

ONE CHALLENGE:

To step out on the road in Mexico with only three words in Spanish I knew: thank you, hello and good-bye. I felt deaf and dumb for about two months, yet that first step was still the hardest to make.

ONE DANGEROUS SITUATION:

This happened near Santa Fe in Panama. My kayak was caught in a tree in river rapids and turned over– lucky it was deep enough and I did not hit my head against anything, I swam out and for a half an hour tried to hold on to the roots screaming “HELP” in all languages I knew. Miguel came– released the boat, which then was carried away by the current and convinced me to let go of the branches by jumping into the water and letting the current carry him to the shallow part of the river from where he walked to shore. After I had done the same and was on the safe side, he went to look for my kayak and an hour later we could continue the journey. I really did not want to sit into my boat again, but had no choice… we were in the middle of nowhere.

FOOD SURPRISES:

That year I tasted the most variety of vegetables and fruit I had never imagined existed among which were boilt, fried, sweet or savory plantain dishes, yucca, granadillas, maracuya, tree-tomatoes, fresh mangoes, papaya, zapote, many types of corn, sugar-cane and the “bricks” made out of it, called panela, traditional sweetener of Colombia , and much more.

In Oxaca, Mexico I tried chicken in a chocolate sauce.

Near Bucaramanga, Colombia I was invited to taste toasted ants.

ONE MISFORTUNE TURNED FORTUNE:

I was so upset. Everything had been planned – I was to visit my friends Cirrus and Brandon in Wisconsin, then have an internship in the macrobiotic Kushi institute near Boston (Ionians had helped me get the spot), then live in a Mennonite community in Kentucky that did not use electricity, and so much more...BUT the guards cancelled my visa on the International Falls border. What was I supposed to do? Keep smiling? Canada became an island. I needed a boat or a plane. I think that was the hardest day of my second year when I started my journey towards Thunder Bay – what an appropriate name, I remember myself thinking. Only when Native American Chief of the Waygobah Mi´kmaq first nation Morley Googoo said he will be the miracle I need to get over the States and got me the ticket, I understood everything.

ONE REWARD:

“Carve it and make it yours. Practice and make the staff a part of your body. It will help you on your way.”
Keith and I were kneeling down on the grass facing each other. My master gave me my weapon before I deserved it. That is what I told him. I did not know how to handle it. It was heavy. Or rather I was clumsy and inexperienced.
But does a child deserve his feet? He cannot walk yet, can he? Yet he needs them to learn how.
I deserved my weapon. I carved it and it became mine. I practiced and it became a part of my body. Now they call me warrior… before I deserve it. On August 2nd, 2008, Alaska, Kenai Peninsula

YEAR 3

ROUTE:

Colombia-Venezuela-Brazil-French Guyana-Suriname-Curacao-Bonaire-Curacao-Bonaire-Venezuela-Colombia-Ecuador-Peru-Bolivia-Argentina-Paraguay-Bolivia

ONE LESSON:

Even without belonging to an organization you can practice and grow in your profession. Wherever you are you can hear, recognize and answer your calling.

TRAVEL COMPANION:

His name was David, he was 22, but seemed a lot younger. I met him in Mesitas del Colegio in Colombia where I was a volunteer for one orphanage. He asked if I could help him find his dad who lived on one island called Bonaire in the Caribbean and I said if he wanted he could hitchhike with me to Venezuela. We ran into difficulties asking the captains to take David to Bonaire and to top that found out his passport had expired. Many adventures followed and it took time to Live them. David only got to see his dad in November, four month after we had started our trip.

EIGHTEEN UNFORGETTABLE RIDES:

No. 324: A dump truck I hitched a ride with in Putumayo considered the Red area in Colombia. They say: don´t go there if you do not want to die- yet in reality it was Putumayo where I found the friendliest of people. I was just 17 km from the Ecuadorian border, but it looked like nowhere. I had to climb into the box and hold on. There was nothing in the back but two bicycles and some sand. The dirt-road made holding on harder. I saw people in military clothes on several occasions and hid my head for them not to see me. I was not sure who they were. The truck dropped me off in the middle of the woods and the driver showed the direction I had to walk in. I was surprised to see a crossroad there. The border was still a few kilometers away.

No. 346: My ride to Buenaventura on Colombia´s Pacific coast brought me to a meeting of the catholic Catechumen community. The nun in charge of the community house first refused my plea to stay overnight, but then changed her mind. I offered to help out in the kitchen and on the same evening as well as the following morning served food for hundreds of guests. When my job was done and I was to leave people started approaching me and asking what I was doing there (I was one of the very few white people, so probably stood out). After hearing my story and my intention of going by hitchhiking they quickly organized a collection and soon handed me a plastic bag heavy with coins and many paper bills. We counted the money – it was over 100 000 pesos (over 45 $) which was enough to get me to Mesitas del Colegio and also to make a Brazilian visa a week later.

No. 355: His truck was carrying expensive cars to still distant Barranquilla on the Caribbean coast of Colombia. David and I hitched our longest ride – three days is quite a while to be able to get to know one person and this Jose was quite a character to say the least. An ex-soldier- guerrilla fighter told us of the extremes he had to put up with living in the mountains. “Money is worthless over there- use it as a toilet paper if you want to – the nearest shop is just too far away”, he told us. “They found in his body 34 bullets, I had to retire to be able to go free,” said Jose to explain why he was not in the army any more. The nights we spent in his car were something else too. David and the kind driver each picked a Mercedes to sleep in, while I could use all the space in the cabin.

No. 361: This was an unforgettable ride, more so for David than for me, as he had to get into the closed box of the truck which gave us a ride in Venezuela. When the night caught us in Coro, the driver Jose Luis allowed us to sleep on the roof of the vehicle – here both David and I were first-timers.

No. 374-375-376-377-378: Four buses and one taxi took me in some kind of an enchanted chain free of charge from San Felipe in the North of Venezuela to Santa Elena at the Venezuelan-Brazilian border.

No. 0 (I am not counting the rides I pay for): The boat ride on the Amazon River – I had to play a flute on the dock to get on the ship which took me from Santarem to Macapa: three more days on the water. Everyone but me had hammocks; I had a tent and slept in it alone on the roof of the ship.

No. 405: Yellow catamaran Zeevonk took me from Bonaire to Curacao. They were naturists and did not like clothes. I just hoped they would not mind if I stick to my bathing uniform. They did not and we became good friends, or more like a family. I stayed with Henk and Yoke for more than a week and when moved out to live on land, continued having good time with them. We went jogging, snorkeling, kayaking, had breakfast on board and went out for Happy Hour in the Sailing Club two times a week. They taught me about Reiki massage, showed me around the island and helped me meet many great sailors on Spanish water.

No. 406: The luxurious catamaran Kon Tiki was my ride from Curacao to Bonaire and then to Venezuela´s Puerto Cabello. We raced flying fish and dolphins, the wind was for us and we made good time. Johan and Ilona were the most generous hosts. But their world was water, and mine was the Road so we had to part.

No. 421: Nelson brought me from Tame to Chia near Bogota in twenty hours. But instead of dropping me off at midnight, pulled his truck over and we waited sleeping in the seats till it became light again.

No. 425: A truck driver Carlos Calderon who picked me up from Mosquera (near Bogota, Colombia) had a breakdown in the mountains and took me home to Armenia where I met his family and friends and spent three relaxing days enjoying good company, live music and quality food.

No. 437: A taxi driver, who first did not want to take me for free five kilometers from Las Lajas to Ipiales in Southern Colombia, returned to pick me up and after dropping me off paid for my bus till the Ecuadorian border.

No. 445: A noble man. We were both hungry after that five hours drive across the Andes which took me to Cuenca (Ecuador). He invited me to one restaurant, but could not eat what they were offering due to the operation he had recently had. He still made sure I would have my plate of food although could not share it with me.

No. 0: Perhaps I should have still refused, I thought. That chicken I had eaten made me feel sick. I had to take a bus to Lima. Yet that too was an unforgettable ride, for it helped me get to know three Adventist missionaries travelling to Bolivia. Their office would soon become my next destination and longest stop of that year´s journey.

No. 477: Pablo who was to take me just 40 kilometers further from Las Lajitas to Route 16 in Northern Argentina invited me to stay in his guest-house, which also hosted five airplanes under the same roof. We talked about many interesting things – the Europeans who brought material values to South America, the indigenous, who did not share these values and until this day have trouble understanding and relating to progressive way of thinking, yet are forced to live and survive in the world that they do not belong to. The white man sees them as poor, uneducated and good for nothing…yet cards would definitely change if the white man would be taken into the wild. We also talked about shapes and sizes of the fields. Pablo showed me on Google Earth the enormous sizes of some of the fields in Argentina and then flower-shaped fields of the Mennonites in Bolivia. Although we only met for too brief of a moment, it felt like meeting a family member who lived far away. Before leaving Pablo gave me an envelope… I really did not expect that big of a donation. He wrote to me later that it was for an emergency or something as he knew I did not really need money to live. I laughed and replied: what you need is given. What is given you need…but would I really need that much???

SEVEN STOPOVERS:

San Felipe, Venezuela: I lived and worked with catholic nuns of Mother Teresa of Calcutta in a home for the mentally disabled women for one month. Inspired by the idea of how little one can actually live with I would not eat after the sunset. In comparison with the mentally disabled people, just having my sanity felt one great treasure, so I tried to deprive myself of as many commodities as I could think of. I slept on the floor. My three skirts felt too many, so I chose one and for that month that I lived in the house of the missionaries only used that skirt – washing it every evening. I helped out in the kitchen and every time we made juice I kept the leftover pulp. That I used to wash my body at night. I through away my shampoo and conditioner and used the liquid from Aloe Vera mixed with avocado, or sometimes lemon, or coco-nut cream to wash and treat my hair. I never returned to using regular shampoos again.

Bonaire, Netherland Alntilles (Caribbean): For about three weeks I got to work as a waitress in a cappuccino bar with the purpose of flying David from Venezuela to Bonaire where his father lived. I had my own apartment and my two Russian friends Anya and Katya provided appropriate clothes and make up for my new job.

Curacao, Netherlan Antilles: When my friends from catamaran Zeevonk had to go, I was homeless. Yet thanks to the help of one Polish couple Mick and Patricia who had once started their journey yacht hitchhiking yet were now proud owners of a tiny sailboat called YouYou, I ended up living on a luxurious Limestone resort completely free of charge. To fill my days and thank my kind hosts – a charming Cuban lady Silvia and her husband - I started helping around with all kinds of little things there were to do in the garden, cleaning up, painting or even designing a KNOW YOUR KNOTS educational board for a children´s playground. Silvia´s husband Roel Jungslager was a writer, which is how several characters from my travelogues became a part of the novel he was writing. Silvia was a salsa dancer and a very wise woman – she taught me to dance with the earth.

Mesitas del Colegio, Colombia: another unexpected comeback – that was the third time for me in Mesitas, yet once again very different. I started working in a home for young girls (two previous times it was mainly the boys’ home) and picked up the art class project Siiri – an Estonian volunteer I used to work with, had started. The classes were interdisciplinary: we studied Chinese and Japanese characters, had talks on Buddhist religion and symbolism, learned about the origin of porcelain, combined poetry with ink painting and did a lot of art. All the works made up an exhibition with separate rooms for Japanese and Chinese art where the girls learned about public presentation. Some of the girls started using Japanese characters to write letters to their boyfriends in the boys’ home, who in return came to me to help them translate the messages.

Bogota, Colombia: I spent a wonderful Christmas vacation with a Colombian-Estonian family Eve and Ernesto and their three children, then after staying a month in Mesitas returned to their friendly home for another week.

Quito, Ecuador: I had met him before on my first trip to Quito. He was a music teacher, an actor and a trombone player in a salsa band. I travelled with his band to the coast to one African Dance and Music festival and Danced, Danced, Danced every day. The two weeks I spent with my friend were like an ongoing cultural program – jazz concert, theatre, dance class, the festival, rehearsals, talks on philosophy, reading from wise men’s books and in all that trying to face our weaker selves and not get into a relationship that would not lead anywhere.

Santa Cruz, Bolivia: three months and a comeback for another three months, I know exactly what kept me and my half a year in Santa Cruz – the longest I have ever stayed anywhere in my travels - was kind of decided within the first week. I work (worked and shall work till the mid September) with Adventist Missionaries partly “undercover” for I do not belong to their religion and am according to their understanding definitely more pagan than Christian. I am glad that Claudia, my friend I go to prison with, does not mind that and allows me to help her with the bible class. I am in charge of art workshops and the “hidden message” activities which I have to design and then carry out both in women´s and men´s prison. Yet my main focus remains to be the hospital school for children with cancer where I spend all weekdays and sometimes also nights. I live in a house for homeless people in rehabilitation with three more volunteers and a few times a week help with cooking and cleaning.

ONE MEMORY:

When there came a time to leave the house of Mother Teresa, sister Jasna gave me cookies for the road. Strangely so, these never ended. Before I ate my last cookie, there was a new package in the bag that someone would give me. The strangest cookie fill up happened in Brazil where a shop keeper in an empty village asked me to come over to his shop and then after hearing about my journey took a walk in-between the isles. “This is for you,” he finally said handing me a bag full of cookies for the road.

ONE CHALLENGE:

I failed. I really loved my musician friend from Ecuador, but just as a friend. The dangerous part was that we were attracted to each other. I often wished he would not have been the same age or of the opposite sex – to be able to keep our relationship strictly plutonic – beautiful and unstained. Yet then there would have been no challenge.
When he played, his music filled me and came out as a song. I danced… for every instrument and voice of his band had dissolved in my body and it became every voice and every instrument. I did not want to kiss him, but still did. I failed the test to keep true to my heart. Nothing else happened.

ONE DANGEROUS SITUATION:

This happened in French Guyana. Jean Claude, an elderly gentleman and three seven-eight-nine year old girls picked me up at sunset. Jean Claude said he had travelled Brazil on a bicycle when he was young and understood well what the road felt like. So when he invited me to camp in his yard I did not see any reason to be worried. We studied French with the girls, who did not happen to be his granddaughters, as I had first assumed, but his students form one Brazilian family. They later helped me put up my tent and as it got dark we went to look for alligators with a flashlight in the pond of the back yard. Jean Claude soon went to drop them off, we had dinner, he brought out some encyclopedias to find out more about Estonia and wishing each other good night went to sleep – I climbed into my tent and he disappeared in the house.
I was fast asleep when heard screaming and things in the house falling. A woman´s voice was shouting in Portuguese: You have betrayed me. The situation was hard to understand and only when I heard my name, I figured it out. The woman thought that Jean Claude was cheating on her…with me. But how did she know about my being there? My first instinct was to come out of the tent and explain everything. Yet she sounded really mad and drunk. Jean Claude spoke French, she spoke Portuguese – how did they communicate?
Everything happened so fast – I saw my tent being cut and for one moment stopped breathing. What was going to follow? That mad woman had a knife and was not shy to use it. Luckily she left and for a long while I heard her screaming in the distance.
Jean Claude came to see if I was fine and apologize. “That was the grandmother of the girls,” he explained.
When I was sewing my tent, the lady returned – the nightmare was not yet over. The screaming, the shouting, the throwing of things continued as I laid quietly in my small house trying to think of plans A, B and C. Nothing was coming to my mind, just the thought of everything being temporary and that if alive the next day, I would never have to return there again. I then thought of children who did not have that possibility and whose mad parents or grandparents were the only refuge they knew. “An earthquake that never ends – and breaks and breaks and breaks ones heart is an unstable home to a child. How rich am I to be able to go free, and how poor are these girls…” On that thought I fell asleep. When I woke up it was morning, Jean Claude cooked eggs for breakfast and we talked a little bit about what had happened. He said that the lady in the end had understood everything and apologized. It was a happy end. Soon I packed my stuff and left.

FOOD SURPRISES:

Coca leaves, which when chewed keep hunger away and give energy, but can also make good tea for all stomach problems or help the body adjust to change of heights.
Cheese cubes in a cup of black coffee – I tried this combination both in Colombia as well as in Bolivia and believe me, it is not as bad as it sounds.
Peanut-noodle soup in Bolivia where blended peanuts make a creamy base to the rest of the ingredients – very tasty!

ONE MISFORTUNE TURNED FORTUNE:

If any of the captains would have agreed to take David over to Bonaire, I would not be here. But they did not. And that felt like bad-bad luck, and when they said David`s passport was expired, it felt even worse. Yet if this would not have happened, then I would never have stayed with the nuns of Mother Teresa, nor travel the Amazon river, or work in a bar on a tropical island, see hundreds of fish snorkeling with my new friends, travel Caribbean on catamarans...and so much more. To top that all what happened completely changed my route in South America - I returned to Colombia and Ecuador and instead of travelling the east coast of the continent, travelled the west.

ONE REWARD:

I worked as a waitress on a tropical island of Bonaire in the Caribbean. One day there came a customer to our bar. After having sat down behind one of the further tables he opened a book and started reading.
“If I may inquire what is the book you are reading?” I asked approaching his table.
“Collected works of Khalil Gibran,” he replied.
“I bow in respect to the work of that author, although am only familiar with the Prophet,” I then said.
“My fiancé will read from the Prophet on our wedding day,” said the man.
“Which part?”
“On marriage,” he replied.
“May I?”
With his permission I took the book from his hands, looked up the right chapter and read:

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days. Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God. But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but no into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

“This is your book now,” said the man when I was to hand it back to him.

After nearly a year since I received it, the book is still with me. I read it slowly and several parts of it many times over. It is one big and heavy book, yet light to carry. And when I quote it, then I often forget to say the author, for it feels like Gibran has put my thoughts into words – a tool I can now use to express my understanding of things.