We seldom visit a new country without spending at least 3 weeks there, but Belize was an exception, as James only had a little over 1 week off work.

So we booked an all inclusive dive package (courtesy of a friend who couldn’t go) to a small island called Blackbird Caye, located on one of the 3 coral atolls in Belize known as Turneffe Atoll. We flew into Belize City from Houston, took a small, single engine propeller plane to Blackbird, and flew back the morning after our last dive 7 days later (breaking the 24-hour no-fly rule by a few hours).

Belize hosts 3 of the 4 coral reefs in the Caribbean, Lighthouse Reef (site of the famous Great Blue Hole), to the East, Turneffe Island, and Glover’s Reef, to the south. The Caribbean reef is the second largest reef system in the world (the Great Barrier reef being the first) and UNESCO World Heritage Site; 30% of Mesoamerican Barrier Reef System belongs to Belize. Most people who go diving in Belize stay at Ambergris Caye,the largest island in Belize, and perhaps the most popular tourist spot. As James had already dived there and we usually prefer staying away from the crowds, we thought a small, private island with its own dive operation would be the ideal winter break.

We had our own private bungalow on the island, the Honeymoon suite (no, we were not on our honeymoon!), located on stilts with an amazing views over the water (we arrived just prior to the full moon). It also had a hot tub, which sadly was not very full or very hot, and was supposed to be the nicest of  the 24 rooms/bungalows in this completely self-sufficient resort consisting of its own restaurant, water desalination plant, dive center, and 3 dive boats. The package included 3 dives a day for 4 days, all meals and desalinated water, but sadly not the drinks (which at 10-15 USD each led to a hefty tap), as well as the option to spend a day at Lighthouse Reef to dive the Blue Hole and 2 other sites on the spectacular Half Moon Caye about a 1-hour boat ride away. The dive staff was very friendly and our Divemaster, Ed, a Belize native who grew up on one of the Cayes, was a pleasure to dive with and even taught James how to spear lionfish, which are not endemic to the Caribbean and have become a threat to the reef system (the staff cook was kind enough to make fish fingers for us after Ed filleted the fish). We had him to ourselves for 2.5 days, and when you are a seasoned diver, you cherish those days you don’t have to dive in a large group.

As is usual in February, the weather was mild and we experienced strong northeasterly winds during most of our stay, which was actually a relief, because when the wind was not blowing, we were constantly being bitten by sand fleas. The ocean temperature was a mild 26°C/79°F and I was pretty comfortable diving in my new 3/4mm wetsuit (James got cold in his 20-year old 3 mm suit). The mild water temperature, lack of strong currents, good visibility (averaging >20 meters), and all new dive equipment (buoyancy control device/BCD, regulators, & fins, all Christmas presents from family and James) made for very pleasant, easy diving. Though most of our dives were wall dives, we didn’t dive deeper than 20 meters (as Ed insisted most of the interesting things to see were at this depth).

In terms of underwater life, we were not overly impressed with the number and variety of fish we saw at Turneffe compared to other places we have dived (especially at Turneffe Elbow, touted to be an amazing site, but strangely devoid of fish on our outing). From what we heard, you do see much more aquatic life in the summer months (especially July). Our favorite sites on Turneffe were Coral Garden and Crab Walk, where we saw a hammerhead shark, a hawksbill turtle, multiple grouper, a lot of lobsters, some giant crabs, a few moral eels, a school of cuddle fish (a highlight!), and plenty of colourful, smaller reef fish, including angel fish, butterfly fish, blue chromis, and squirrel fish. Turneffe is a healthy reef with plenty of impressive coral, including giant brain coral, large barrel and yellow tube sponges, and Gorgonian sea fans, so even though we didn’t always see a lot of fish, diving amongst these corals was a great experience.We did 12 dives off of Turneffe and took half a day off to watch movies and hang out in our bungalow during a rainy afternoon on our next to last day. We also did one night dive, overpriced for what it was, but I did see my first flat lobster and someone consume 170 bar of air after 45 minutes at 10 meters depth!

On Valentine’s Day, our last day of diving, we headed to Lighthouse Reef. At the Blue Hole and at Half Moon Caye, the underwater life became what we had expected of Belize. The Blue Hole is a gigantic sink hole, 300 meters in diameter, 108 meters deep, that was formed when an surface cave collapsed into the ocean after sea levels rose 15-150,000 years ago. At a depth of just below 40 meters, we entered a cave surrounded by stalagmites and stalactites. We also saw a passing Caribbean reef shark a good 5 meters below us when we were at 43 meters below sea level, my deepest dive yet (I logged 42 meters during my deep diver certification).

I must confess I was a little scared of diving the Blue Hole, as a guest at the resort had succumbed to his death 2 years prior, when he shot up to the surface. During our dive briefing, we were told we would be diving up to 45 meters below sea level. At this depth, you experience almost 5 times the amount of atmospheric pressure you do at sea level (14.7 pounds per square inch or psi, so multiply that times 5). One of the major downsides of diving at this depth, is the effect the increased partial pressure has on the absorption of nitrogen in mixed air (up to 78%; oxygen is only 21%) into tissues including the brain. At ≤30 meters below sea level, nitrogen has an intoxicating, anaesthetic effect leading to poor judgment also known as nitrogen narcosis.

At the 40 meter mark, as we descended into a midnight blue abyss, it got colder and darker, and I started to feel like everything was slowing down and like my teeth were going to cave in.  Not being able to see the surface or the bottom, I decided to focus on the stalactites or giant hanging calcium icicles around me, hoping no equipment would suddenly fail, and that we would soon start ascending. We were only down there for 3 minutes, my dive watch beeping as alarms were going off telling me I had exceeded my maximum allowed depth and I was going into the decompression stage (when the nitrogen gases start to dissolve from the body’s tissues). I was glad when we finally started to make our slow ascent. We saw several lobsters hiding on these little holes on the wall on the way up as well as handfuls of Midnight parrotfish (of a rich blue colour) nibbling on the algae growing off the limestone walls of the Blue Hole. Amazing how these creatures can live at those depths!

Diving the Blue Hole is not for all, and many dive operations require that you are an Advanced Diver, as it seems bottomless and it is also very dark (I decided to use my flashlight), and without a point of reference, like the wall, divers can lose orientation and succumb to panic (diving accidents including a few fatalities have been known to happen). Many opt to go snorkeling by the rim instead, and wait for the divers to surface. The dive is short, only 30 minutes, so you can even wait on the boat. But I am glad I did it, as how often do you get to dive in the Blue Hole?!

After the Blue Hole we were taken to nearby Half Moon Caye for what many claim are the best 2 dives of the excursion. From the sandy shores of Half Moon Caye, you descend into a spectacular entrance into the reef, literally shaped like a crescent moon, and the contrast of white sand to the rich blue in front of you, with walls of  reef on either side of you is really is a spectacular site. On our way into the entrance we saw several stingrays hovering above the sand, and on the wall itself, four Caribbean gray reef sharks patrolled us for most of the dive until we left the top wall onto the sandy slope (one got within a foot of me). At the end of the dive we saw a giant Loggerhead turtle chewing on the sea grass during our safety stop. The visibility and conditions were great. This dive was as spectacular as everyone said it would be!

After our second dive we had a nice long, picnic lunch at Half Moon Caye, designated a National Monument. This island was as close to paradise as you could imagine, with white sand beaches devoid of trash, pristine turquoise waters, plenty of palm trees, and both a frigate and red-footed boobie colony a short walk from shore. After our long safety stop, we did one last dive close to the island, known as Aquarium. Again, we saw plenty of rays, reef fish, a hawksbill turtle, a garden of small eels, and beautiful coral. It was a great, relaxing way to finish an eventful day of diving, and our last dive for a few months to come!

We enjoyed our week of diving in Belize. It was not as exciting as diving with schools of hammerhead sharks in the Galapagos in 18°C and strong currents wearing 7 mm wetsuits and 24 pounds of weight, or as magical as the swim through dives we did in the Coral Sea off of Australia in 40 meters of visibility and 29°C water temps, but it was pleasant enough diving capped by a spectacular day on Lighthouse Reef. Not to mention a great way to break the Colorado winter.

Belize is definately a dive destination worth visiting, with plenty of islands and dive sites to chose from for future visits. Next on our list are Placencia and Glovers Reef based on the local divermasters’ recommendations. Stay tuned!

Travel Tips:

Non-stop flights operate from Houston/Dallas, Miami and Atlanta for as little as 300 USD round-trip in the Winter months and circa 700 USD in the Summer.

Whale shark season is April, May and June.

Belize dollars are 2:1 to the US dollar but most merchants accept USD.

No electrical converters needed!

Don’t forget your bug repellent 🙂

For more info on where to dive check out:https://www.padi.com/scuba-vacations/belize

Dive resorts in Belize by popularity (though Blackbird doesn’t seem to be in there): https://www.tripadvisor.com/HotelsList-Belize-Diving-Resorts-zfp4099.html

Part 1

I was 41 when I decided to go to Vietnam on my own for one month. I had just quit my 6-figure job and had been working pretty much non-stop since I graduated from university. The longest trip I had ever taken, alone or with anyone, was 2 weeks. My life was a golden cage. I was held hostage by my and society’s definition of success and need for financial security. I had dreamed for years of taking 6 months off to go travelling, but never had the guts to quit my job and lead that life of adventure one only reads about in Outside magazine. Well, it was now or never. I Google-d ‘safest country for female solo traveler’ and Vietnam popped up. So I packed everything I thought I’d need into one backpack, and booked a flight on miles to Vietnam via Hong Kong.

My journey, however, didn’t start well. After two frazzled days in busy Hong Kong trying to explore every inch of the city in a mere two days I arrived in Hanoi feeling exhausted. After checking into the world’s smallest hotel room (lesson learned, always say you are two when booking a room!), I decided to go explore the city. Unable to walk on the sidewalk because every inch was taken up by a parked scooter, I tried to walk on the tiny spaces between the road and the sidewalk, amidst trash and compost and along mice too running for their lives, trying to avert the swarms of honking scooters everywhere. I had spent the first 18 years of my life dying to leave the third world country where I grew up only to end up in one that made my native country look civilized. So I decided to take a tour of the city on a tuk tuk, if you cant beat them join them, so to speak. We peddled in between cars and scooters and miraculously arrived unharmed at several ill-kept temples. It was cold and rainy in Hanoi and hadn’t packed enough clothes in my backpack, so after my unimpressive city tour I went shopping (silk scarves and pants almost cheered me up). I went back to my microsized hotel room after dining alone in a little restaurant full of couples and wondered what the hell I was doing here. I cried myself to sleep. The next morning I woke up panicking when a pain on the side of my abdomen wouldn’t go away so I took a taxi to some random hospital and checked myself into the ER. It turns out I had an enlarged colon from eating too much fried Chinese food. I told myself that I had to pull it together – it was only Day 2 and I still had over 3 weeks to go.

Thankfully I had booked a 3-day trip to Halong Bay the following day. As I boarded a beautiful old luxury wooden ‘junk boat’, I knew beauty could be found in Vietnam, even amidst the poverty and remnants of ill-kept bomb-blasted temples. I spent a wonderful two days sea kayaking in the rain around towering limestone islands, chatting and dining with a lovely Australian middle- aged couple who invited me to join their table after watching me eat alone the first night. They told me all about their struggles raising their now 20-year old autistic son, her battle with depression and obesity for twenty years, her husband’s nervous breakdown and battles with a bullying boss, his constant feelings of worry and anxiety and all the sleeping pills he used to take. It all sounded too familiar. Their honesty and openness was both heart wrenching and endearing. My first Vietnam friends were Chris and Vivian.

Part 2

After Halong Bay I went back to Hanoi to catch the overnight train to the northern mountain district of Sapa, famous for it’s terraced rice paddies and beautiful verdant scenery. The sleeper train was 1930s luxury and I excitedly thought ‘I didn’t make a mistake by booking 5 sleeper trains from the northernmost point Vietnam to the very South!’ I spent the first day in Sapa with the world’s most adorable trekking guide – a young girl who reminded me of the young girl I always wanted to be – honest and fearless (we painted our hands indigo dye and swore to always be indigo friends), and with a beautiful Malaysian family of 6 who I shared all my meals with and who welcomed me with no reservations.

After a night in a comfortable lodge I did a 2-day easy trek in the mountains walking along rice paddies, crossing dilapidated wooden bridges, and visiting tiny Vietnamese villages filled with adorable, colorful children. I did this with a harmonious Spanish couple in their mid-30s who sold everything they owned to travel the world. A year ago I would have thought they were nuts, now I found them inspiring. I asked them ‘what’s your secret to always being together and not fighting?’ She said ‘We compromise. If one of us wants to do something the other one does it unless there is a real physical or psychological impediment’. It seemed like a simple yet wonderful concept. Sadly I never learned their names. That night we slept on the floor in a villager’s wooden, windowless house, called a ‘homestay’. I must say despite it being rather uncomfortable, it was the best night’s sleep I’d had since I started my trip.

Part 3

After Sapa I headed back down to Hanoi in a shitty train with a heavy snorer in my sleeper cabin (what happened to 19030s luxury?) mentally prepared for the filth and chaos. After walking around Hanoi in a sleepy daze the following morning, I got a pedicure, popped in to see a Chinese medicine doctor, who told me I had live cancer, decided to ignore him and went out for a street-food, before catching my third sleeper train to Hue, this time an arduous 17-hour journey in what seemed like 3rd class. I had some Vietnamese guy across from me snoring so I threw my pillow at him. He shouted at me in Vietnamese and kept snoring, and I lost my pillow.

I arrived in Hue in fairly good form despite the complete lack of sleep and took a private 1-day boat tour down the Perfume River. Hue is a very historical city, classed a world heritage site, because it is where most Vietnamese kings took residence and are buried. My guide, a young, emaciated Vietnamese woman, took me to several temples and then for lunch at a simple, local restaurant where she ordered enough food for 5 people – the food was delicious and beautiful and I wondered where she was putting all that food. She ate so much she ended up throwing up all her food behind one of the temples an hour later.

The highlight though was not the beautiful temples but my stay at the world’s poshest homestay run by a French-Vietnamese couple whose proceeds supported the orphanage next door, which they also ran. I never thought of myself as having motherly instinct, but I felt a lump in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes when seeing all these adorable Vietnamese children running around this tiny house waiting for dinner to be served. A few little girls just wanted to hang out with me, ask me questions, but mostly, just wanted to hold my hand. When I left the next morning one little girl who I spent all morning with (she was fascinated with my new iPhone and loved my Nemo screen saver) followed me all the way to the main road (breaking orphanage rules). She wanted to walk with our fingers interlocked and when I finally said goodbye she did not only want a big hug but a big kiss on the lips. I’ve never felt such sorrow leaving someone I hardly knew. My first thought in the taxi on the way to the station was ‘you must get a job so you can come back and adopt this girl’. Now I know what Angelina felt like.

Part 4

After Hue I took a 3-hour train ride to Hoi An, perhaps Vietnam’s most beautiful and picturesque city. I had so much looked forward to getting there because it was the first place where I would spend 3 consecutive nights in the same hotel room. I went posh, getting a 3-star boutique hotel, which would certainly get 5 stars anywhere else in the developed world. The staff was lovely and friendly and magically, they had their own spa. Here I met up and spent two days with Greg, an American solo traveller I had met briefly in Sapa who was also heading south like me. We had a good laugh together, went to see dead corals in Cham island, and did two sunset cruises on these wide, flattish wooden canoes usually rowed by women where I lit a zillion colorful paper candles and made wishes for everyone (you’re granted one wish per candle).

Strolling the streets of beautiful Hoi An, I went souvenir shopping in wonderful little boutiques and colorful street markets, ate street food by the river, drank cocktails in quaint, windowless bars; for the first time truly enjoying myself in Vietnam. Greg went on to trek the world’s largest cave (just discovered here in Vietnam a few years ago). Filled with envy I said goodbye and spent the next day cycling in the outskirts of Hoi An and accidentally ended up in the world’s most beautiful remote beach, I kept seeing these round straw fishing boats wondering how does one steer a round boat? I sat on the beach and wrote in my journal for hours. I can only think of 2 or 3 days in my life when I’d felt this happy. I was singing to myself as I walked up and down this beach glad there was no one there because I really did feel like a crazy woman. Then that night I met Jesus….

Part 5

Most people who have never travelled alone fear doing it in great part because they’re scared of being lonely. I never had this fear because I’m kind of a loner anyway and quite enjoy my own company; being around other people often exhausts me, I find listening to people who talk incessantly rather tiring. So when I met Jesus the third night in Hoi An (not Christ but Serrano, a handsome young Spaniard) who warned me instantly that he’s hyperactive and likes to talk I thought of jumping into the river. But Jesus is one of those people you can’t help but like, because they’re truly brilliant and full of passion for life.

We took a group tour together to the temples of My Son with the world’s most ridiculous tour guide (he looked like Jackie Chan in a cheap suit), and decided to call us the Elephant team so we wouldn’t get lost. So during the entire tour at this bomb-blasted but beautiful heritage site in 100-degree heat he kept shouting ‘follow me Elephant team!’. We could barely understand anything he was saying, his English was so bad. But we could understand all the dirty little jokes he kept making about the penis-looking structure close to one temple. He said it was small, I blurted ‘it’s Vietnamese size!’ He didn’t get it. Anyway, we had a blast and decided to have dinner together that night.

After dinner I went back to my hotel room to find out I’d been dumped on Whatsapp. Even though I was officially single when I left Geneva, I had a little fling with my Dutch diving instructor a month prior when in the Maldives getting my first dive certification and we had planned to see each other again when I got back from Vietnam. It turns out he’d changed his mind and instead of calling me to break things off resorted to an app to break off our little fling. I spent the whole night on the sleeper train to Nha Trang crying (this time all three male Vietnamese cabin mates were quiet as mice). That’s life for you, utter happiness one day, total heartbreak the next.

God has a way of keeping us on our toes and forcing us to constantly reinvent our dreams (our silly dream was to open a dive shop in Australia and live like beach bums). Jesus was very supportive and kept telling me ‘smile and the world will smile back!’ So here I am in the last days of my journey enjoying a few wonderful, relaxing days in one of the most beautiful beach resorts I’ve ever been to, in the coastal town of Nha Trang, feeling truly blessed and glad I came here, glad I went through some rough times because it’s what makes the wonderful things seem so much sweeter, and besides, that’s what life is all about, letting go of the anger (bad bosses, ex-boyfriends), so we can make space for something better.

On this trip I learned to become mindful of the present (thanks to a little mindfulness book I read on the beach), learned to savor my morning coffee without playing on my phone, to enjoy every bite of my dinner without feeling awkward by eating alone, to sit still and just observe, to embrace the fear, the sadness and yes sometimes the loneliness, as all being part of a bigger plan. I feel grateful for the beautiful, inspiring people I met on this trip. I also ended up getting my advanced diver certification, which two years on has allowed me to dive in some truly amazing places. I ended up seeing Jesus again in Saigon, we visited the War Museum together, and I went on to visit the Cu Chi tunnels on my own – embracing my fear as a claustrophic and entering the tiniest of tunnels. This trip was the first of many trips that followed, over two years, to some wonderful destinations. But Vietnam will always hold a special place in my heart, because it was my first, true solo adventure.

I read a post by Francistapon recently saying that the ”Camino is the most overrated long distance trail in the world” because only 1% of the trails are narrow, you hear traffic while you’re walking, you can get skin cancer from all the sun exposure, and it is hard to take a piss. Well anybody who walks the Camino because they want to go hiking, shouldn’t be doing the Camino in the first place (there are much better long distance treks out there). The Camino is a pilgrimage, a long distance walk replete with spiritual meaning and cultural exposure, not to mention a great opportunity to reflect upon what is important and revert to a simple way of living.

It is true we spent some horrible days on the Camino (at least I did): the long, uninteresting, often wet walks on the Meseta, especially from Burgos to Reliegos, often in the rain (we did it late April-late May, 2015) and the often ghastly Pilgrim menus comprising of spaghetti marinara and Spam-like meat, and if youre lucky, some canned fruit for dessert (not at all what you expect of Spanish cuisine). I remember hitting an all time low in morale on Day 19, when after walking for so many days along the Meseta, all we craved for was a good meal, but instead got more spaghetti and Spam. I almost cried.

The Camino was especially hard for me because I injured myself on the very first day, walking up and down the Pyrenees (37 km to be exact) carrying a heavy pack (which I had carefully packed to not be heavy!), and re-igniting an old stress fracture in my left hip. As we had been travelling around the world for 9 months, mostly diving and sitting in a camper van for a month, we had taken a laissez-faire approach to the Camino. Being active outdoors people with a strong hiking pedigree, we assumed we could get away with not doing any real training for this (except for having climbed a handful of volcanoes and other small peaks in Panama, Bali, and Australia). I endured the Camino by taking 3 grams of ibuprofen/naproxen a day for almost 34 days (we did the French route starting in St. Jean Pied-du-Port, France).

But despite the pain, disappointing food, and days of nothing worth seeing, there were also some truly great days and plenty of spectacular scenery, especially during the first 12 and last 10 days, when crossing fields of rapesee flowers in Navarra, sprawling vineyards in La Rioja, and two scenic mountain ranges (The Pyrenees and the Cantabrian mountains).

What better way to see a country than to walk across it? We visited at least 160 towns en route to Santiago, each with its own unique architecture and culture (our favourites were Astorga, Burgos, León, Pamplona, and Viana). We visited many beautiful churches, from the majestic to the tiny, medieval stone-built hamlet-like sanctuaries. We attended moving Pilgrim’s masses, mostly held by nuns who volunteer their time to lodge pilgrims, and met some very interesting people along the way.

I had been serious about doing the Camino for at least a year. Having been raised Catholic and knowing a fair amount about history, I had known about this religious pilgrimage for quite some time (we didn’t actually see ‘The Way’ until we were on the train on our way to St Jean Pied-du-Port from Paris). I did watch a documentary about it the year before, which I showed to a group of female attendees at the Alpine retreats I was running, as inspiration for doing long distance hikes. Luckily, it was also on my boyfriend’s bucket list (we had met about 10 months before and had decided to take a year to travel together around the world).

The one thing that got me through the tough days (which was almost all of the Camino), was the promise I had made to myself to take my dad’s ashes to Santiago (you see many people spreading the ashes of their loved ones along the way). My dad was also a Catholic, and most importantly, had done some things in his life, which I know he regretted in his death bed (he had passed away 5 months prior). I also knew that he was somehow stuck in the ‘in-between’ – not only from multiple dreams I had with him but from accounts from my 12-year old autistic niece who has a special way of communicating with the spirit world. In the middle ages, pilgrims started walking the Camino as penance, to absolve them of their sins, and once earning their Compostela, they’d present this to St Peter and get speedy passage at the gates of Heaven. By walking the Camino with him, I thought I would help my dad’s transition be a little faster/easier.

There are so many blogs and books out there about the Camino, that there was no real need to write another one, advising readers where to stay, where to eat, what churches to visit, etc. Most bloggers write whilst walking the Camino. I was so physically and emotionally exhausted at the end of the day, that I didn’t get past Day 5. I decided to write this 7 months after having completed it because I felt I was starting to forget many of the details. In my ageing brain, only the most salient experiences remain. The Camino is a very personal experience. No one will visit a town or a church and feel the same emotion or even be moved by the same experience. And often, you stumble upon great places when you least expect them. We used the Brierley book not for planning our stages (we picked our own stages depending on how much we wanted to walk every day and to avoid crowded stopping/lodging points) but mostly for the maps, though unfortunately his maps did get us badly lost a couple of times.

There are a couple of cities I had wished we had stayed at (e.g. Viana, Astorga) but we were still able to stop there for at least an hour, have lunch, and take in the sights. There are albergues we particularly liked, and some we wouldn’t recommend primarily because of bad experiences with bed bugs (James got murdered by them on Day 10 and could barely open his eyes for 2 days ; it happened at least one more time that we can remember, even though I was never bitten). We usually tried to stay in double rooms, because by the time we each paid for a bunk bed in a hostel, the cost of upgrading to a double was just 10-15 euros more. We did the Camino when the USD-EUR exchange rate was very favourable, so we did splurge with a couple of nice dinners here and there (especially in the cities). We had a lot of ‘bocadillos’ (Spanish sandwiches, mostly with chorizo or ham) and ‘tortillas’ (Spanish omelettes with potato) along the way, and my boyfriend, James, was, at the time, addicted to Spanish beer, so a good part of our daily budget went into Estrella Galicia.

We didn’t walk the Camino as fast as some people do (we met people trying to do it in 30-33 days). But we still did it faster than most people, in 34 days, which included a full rest day in Leon (our only day off, about mid-way through). I did cheat one day and took a taxi from El Acebo to Camponayara on Day 26. We had walked over 32 km across the highest point of the camino, in what seemed like a series of unrelentless hill climbs. Having struggled with my hip since Day 1, I got to El Acebo and could barely make it to the bathroom from the bed. The next day James walked to Camponayara and I got a facial and had a nice lunch in town while I waited for him (this is probably the fastest he walked in the entire Camino, as I was always the one to slow him down).

I did cheat on another stage, when I took a taxi on the final climb to O Cebreiro on Day 28 (about 5 km). I think I would have managed but at the point I didn’t want to risk not being able to finish the last 100 km starting the next day and not being able to get the Compostela for my dad. We still had 6 days to go. This was the last legitimate opportunity I had to cheat (when you claim your Compostela in Santiago they flat out ask you if you walked the last 100 km, which I did).

In the end I walked about 741 km if you discount the times Brierley got us lost. If you add those km’s up, I probably walked 750 km. James walked the full 769 km / 500 miles plus the 8 km or so we both walked while lost. We walked an average of 6-8 hours a day, sometimes we had a 4 hour day, sometimes a 10 hour day. If we could make it to our destination in 7 hours we were pretty happy. We never left the albergues at dawn like most people do (we are not early risers). Since we had our own rooms most of the time, we would sleep until 7.30/8 am, have breakfast, and head out at about 9/9.30 am, often arriving at our destination around 5/6 pm. Life on the Camino was very simple. Every morning, we got up, ate, walked, ate, slept, then repeated all the next day, for 34 days.  Life doesn’t get more basic than that.

The Camino was a great achievement for both of us; for me because I walked so much of it in pain and somehow managed to endure it. The downside of this, of course, is that it often precluded me from enjoying it as much as I would have liked to. For James, his great achievement was putting up with me! We did get into 3 fights during the whole Camino, the worst one was on Day 16 (May 7) when things got so bad we decided to walk separately the rest of the way and meet in Santiago. But then James went to have a beer at the pub downstairs and met a German guy, who asked him if he was alone. He said his girlfriend was upstairs and that we had gotten into a fight. The guy, shocked, told him no one should walk the Camino with their girlfriend ! That’s a sure way to break up. When he came back up we both let our frustrations out (I was mostly just tired, in pain, and annoyed that I had to make all the hostel bookings and keep track of where were were going every day). We went to the Pilgrim’s mass that evening at this beautiful, majestic church across the street, and decided to finish the Camino together.

For some, doing this journey with someone can be very difficult, and a great proportion of people choose to do it alone (you see very few couples doing it together). But life is also a a journey, and as in life, things get difficult as they do on the Camino. You get tired, you are in pain, the food sucks, you’re drenched after walking in the rain all day, whatever, but here is your partner, who’s there for you for the good times and the bad times, willing to support and encourage you when you need it most. I remember telling James whilst in Los Arcos (on Day 8) that I wasn’t sure I could finish this. But he told me he had no doubt I could finish, and kept telling me that the whole 34 days of the Camino (whether he actually believed it is another story !). I appreciated having him alongside me, sitting with him in these small medieval churches attending Pilgrim’s mass, eating bocadillos and tortillas together, witnessing great views, visiting a new country together in its entirety.

James likes to talk whereas I usually like to walk in silence, think and meditate. I thought about my dad a lot, about my life, about whether I am a good person, and what I can do to be a better person. Having quit my job a couple of years before, having lost my dad whom I was very close to 5 months before, and just having made the decision to leave Europe after living there for over 15 years, I had a lot on my mind, mostly about what the next half of my life was going to look like. But to be honest I spent many hours of everyday trying to mentally control the amount of pain I was in, repeating over and over, this is for Dad.

James on the other hand, was upbeat and chatty (his major source of pain was the blisters he got during the first 2 weeks of the Camino, which I know he really struggled with). He loved talking to strangers on the Camino and meeting new people. Sometimes he would be talking to me for a couple of hours and I’d be screaming in my head ‘stop talking, I’m in excruciating pain !’ but of course I couldn’t do that.

Arriving in Santiago on Day 34, watching the church steeples on the hilltop a few km’s away, was a very emotional experience. After all those days of walking, after all the suffering, after all the self-doubt, we had finally made it, and I had held true to my promise to bring my dad to Santiago and have his ashes blessed at the Cathedral. But the emotion was soon quenched by our inability to find the cathedral. You see, most of the Camino is well marked by yellow arrows along streets and sidewalks, but for some reason as you enter Santiago all the arrows start to disappear and you are just in a medium-sized city in the midst of busy cobblestone streets and pilgrims walking around. We were too embarrassed to ask where the cathedral was so walked up to 3 large churches, video in hand, ready to make our grand entrance, only to find out that the church wasn’t actually the Cathedral. We did eventually find it, and spent a few moments in there before getting into our last (short-lived fight) and heading to our hotel. We attended the Pilgrim’s mass the next day, blessed my dad’s ashes with holy water from the Cathedral (because we could not find a priest anywhere), and saw the famous Botafumeiro being pushed by a group of monks and rocking from one side of the Cathedral exuding incense. The church was very crowded and we were a bit put off about how how many tourists where there and how many people who had only walked the last 100 km had gotten their Compostela, but the experience was still very special.

In conclusion, is the Camino one of the most overrated hikes in the world ? Probably. I have trekked all over the Swiss and French Alps, Ecuador, Nepal, and the USA and as a thru-hike, it falls short of spectacular. Is it one of the best experiences I’ve ever had ? Definately. Of all the trips James and I took that year (Indonesia, Australia, Panama, Costa Rica, and Ecuador/The Galapagos) it definately is the most memorable. I missed walking for many months after I finished the Camino. I missed living life simply. I missed being able to spend so much time with my boyfriend. I missed having my dad in my pocket (we spread his ashes a week after the Camino on his favorite beach in Ecuador, where I grew up).

Below is a recap of the highlights for me, and a small description of the towns/hostels we stayed at and the distances we covered.

Highlights

April 23 : start of the Camino in St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, crossing the Pyrenees

April 25 : decision to start shipping my backpack from town to town

April 29 : saw the most beautiful full rainbow when leaving Los Arcos

May 1 : James murdered by bed bugs, could hardly open his eyes for 2 days

May 7 : at Villalcazar de Sirga, we almost split up and went our separate ways

May 8 : overall nicest albergue experience at La Morena (nice room, nice dinner at their restaurant)

May 9 : half-way point, emotional Pilgrim’s mass in Sahagun

May 10 : the Pilgrim’s menus were usually not very good, but this was by far the worst, we hit a low point that night in terms of food and bed bugs (again) at the albergue in Reliegos

May 11, 12, 13: had a great couple of days walking around, sightseeing, eating (nice food !) and shopping in Leon

May 16 : the never-ending, unrelenting climb/hike to El Acebo, the scenery was striking but it was the hardest day (and also highest point) of the Camino, my leg was killing me, but we had the nicest dinner of the Camino at the hotel that night

May 17: my first full cheat day, took taxi downhill to Camponayara because I could barely walk

May 19 : my second, half cheat day, took taxi half way up to O Cebreiro, spending a few hours at the church asking for a miracle, nice lunch at the pub next door – special day

May 26 : emotional arrival in Santiago (and not being able to find the Cathedral !)

Cities, lodging, and distances

Day 1 (April 22) : St Jean Pied-du-Port (Pays Basque) – Roncesvalles (Navarra) (at SJPDP, stayed at Albergue du Pelerin, nice dorm room to ourselves but rather cold, not enough food for dinner, the next day had a rather simple breakfast, got our passports stamped, and crossed the Pyrenee, long painful downhill (rain in the end), stayed at Hotel Sabina which had a few private rooms on top of the pub/restaurant downstairs, had a nice, warm room, great food, my legs were very sore) 37.2 km

Day 2 (April 23) : Roncesvalles – Zubiri (stayed at El Palo de Avellano, shared dorm room, clean, modern, probably one of two best two dorm rooms of the Camino) 22.3 km

Day 3 (April 24) : Zubiri – Zabaldika* (stayed in small convent, in a private room, shared mass and ate a nice, communal dinner with other pilgrims, however nothing to do in this tiny town, great experience though) 17.2 km

Day 4 (April 25) : Zabaldika – Pamplona* (stayed in a large but simple room at at Hostal Arriazu in the center of town, lots of great tapas bars, spent afternoon walking around, bought SIM card and booked backpack transfer) 10.3 km

Day 5 (April 26) : Pamplona – Puente de la Reina (larger town, stayed at Hotel Jakue, which was very large, had pretty decent private room, went to local bar for dinner, we had our first argument) 23.8 km

Day 6 (April 27) : Puente – Villatuerta (small town, stayed at La Casa Magica, quaint old house-turned albergue, stayed in large, private loft, a bit cold, good dinner) 18 km

Day 7 (April 28) : Villatuerta – Los Arcos (Hotel Suexta, simple hotel in medium-sized town, we had our second fight, went out to dinner, visited the cathedral, which was beautiful, took picture with rainbow the next morning!) 25.5 km

Day 8 (April 29) : Lost Arcos – Viana^# suburb (stayed next to mall, had to take taxi to hotel as several km outside of town, large, modern hotel with good buffet, we slept most of the time as nowhere to go; we should have stayed in Viana!) 18.4 km

Day 9 (April 30) : Viana – Ventosa (entering La Rioja, stayed in Hotel Las Aguedas, which I cannot remember at all, passed through Logroño, a nice, small but bustling city) 22.4 km

Day 10 (May 1) : Ventosa – Cirueña (ghost town next to a large golf course with only one bar/resto that wasn’t open for dinner, stayed at Turistico Casa Victoria, cute old house and room, but James got murdered by bed bugs, ate at the hostel owned by hotel) 25.3 km

Day 11 (May 2) : Cirueña – Belorado (entering Castilla y Leon, passed Santo Domingo de la Calzada, really nice town with a Parador, stayed in Albergue A Santiago just before Belorado, large hostel with big restaurant/laundry room, had our own double room, legs and feet were killing me so got a massage and didn’t go into town, James passed out from too much Benadryl and wine!) 28.9 km

Day 12 (May 3) : Belorado – Atapuerca (long, gradual uphill, we were supposed to stay in San Juan de Ortega but the only place to stay was a large, run down municipal hostel with dirty dorm beds and bed bugs so took a long lunch break and walked downhill to next village on a nice road and stayed at Albergue El Palomar, nice, small, quaint hotel, had a a private room/shared bath, ate pizza, long day) 30.2 km

Day 13 (May 4) : Atapuerca – Burgos* (meant to take alternate route into town but missed turn at AP-1 highway intersection, a lot of flat, concrete walking, stayed at La Puebla Hotel*, nice, chic, modern hotel in Burgos, which is a beautiful medium-sized medieval city with a majestic cathedral and square, had frozen/reheated paella on the square, should have eaten somewhere else) 25.6 km

Day 14 (May 5) : Burgos – Hornillos del Camino⁺ (very small town located on the main road, stayed at Hornillos Meeting Point, modern, nice hostel, probably one of two best two dorm rooms of the Camino, ate a group dinner, we were supposed to stay a few km before in San Bol but nothing there but a hostel) 20.8 km

Day 15 (May 6) : Hornillos – Itero de la Vega⁺ (entering the Meseta, long muddy walk when we left Hornillos, passed Castrojeriz, nice village, and San Anton, under 14th century arches, stayed at Albergue Puente Fitero, large hotel, double room, good resto, met with Lolo and Lita, uninteresting town) 30.9 km

Day 16 (May 7) : Itero – Villalcazar de la Sirga⁺ (walked in the rain most of the day, uninteresting walk, stayed in front of huge, old cathedral, at Hotel Las Cantigas, in a private room, got into a huge fight, almost went our separate ways (James met German guy who told him he was a fool for walking the Camino with his girlfriend), ate at the bar downstairs, made up and went to mass) 27.2 km

Day 17 (May 8) : Villalcazar – Ledigos⁺ (stayed at Albergue La Morena*, in a private, double room, another uninteresting town but really nice, small hotel with quaint, renovated rooms and very nice restaurant) 28.7 km

Day 18 (May 9) : Ledigos – Sahagun⁺ (passed half-way point of the Camino, stayed at the convent run by Benedictine nuns, it very cold!, he town was pretty big but nothing special, stopped at nice cafe as roads split into a V, chatted to a very nice lady who runs the café, went to a Pilgrim’s mass run by the nuns at the church next door) 22.4 km

Day 19 (May 10) : Sahagun – Reliegos⁺ (totally uninteresting walking and town except for Elvis’ bar featured in ‘The Way’, stayed at Albergue La Parada, very basic lodging, had a simple private room/shared bath, saw a lot of bed bugs, horrible food) 31.2 km

Day 20 / 21 / 22 (May 11, 12, 13) : Reliegos – Leon* (beautiful town, definately worth spending at least 1-2 days, stayed at Hospederia Monstastica Pax*, large, renovated monastery-turned-hotel, very spacious, modern, beautiful room) 23.9 km

Day 23 (May 14) : Leon – Villavante (Stage 21 in book ; arrived late since we got lost, stayed in small town just before Hopsital de Orbigo, had pretty nice double room in Albergue Santa Lucia, ate dinner there, took alternate route on Brierley book and got lost together with 6 other pilgrims, route not well marked, stay next to N-120) 31.1 km (+3-5km)

Day 24 (May 15) : Villavante – Murias de Rechivaldo (passed Hospital de Orbigo^#, which you enter via a beautiful, long medieval stone bridge, also passed Astorga^#, beautiful mid-sized medieval town with Gaudi palace and beautiful catherdal, which were both closed; stayed in Murias, small but nice medieval town, lodged at Hotel Las Aguedas*, a very nice old stone house in a very cute/quaint, newly-renovated room with a balcony, went out for dinner) 27 km

Day 25^% (May 16) : Murias – El Acebo outskirt^# (met Juli the eagle, soon started the big, long climb to El Rabanal, passed Cruz Ferro at 1500m and Alto Mayor at 1515m – highest point on the Camino – then small down climb to El Acebo, very cute mountain town, stayed outside in a large hotel, La Casa del Peregrino, with nice views of the mountains, legs hurt like hell, had a nice dinner at the hotel) 32.3 km

Day 26 (May 17) : El Acebo – Camponayara (cheated and took taxi to Camponayara (James walked), because it was all downhill and I could barely walk, passed Molinaseca which looked like a really cute town, by the river, in Camponayara stayed at La Casita, small/basic 3-story house, stayed on top floor double, nothing fancy, got a facial, went out for lunch and dinner, had crappy do-it-yourself breakfast) 22.8 km

Day 27 (May 18) : Camponayara – Trabadelo (went the wrong way leaving town so did a long deviation, should have stayed by main road out of town, got picked up by stranger and taken back to correct path, took alternate route via the mountains, pretty scenery (house atop vineyard) walked uphill to Villafranca del Bierzo, nice medieval city, had lunch on the square, stayed at Albergue Camino y Leyenda in a small town, on the main road, albergue was nice/quaint, had top floor double, modern, shared bathroom, went out for dinner (first burger of the Camino) at nice bar/resto, meet up with Lolo/Lita and the Brits) 28.2 km (+3 km)

Day 28 (May 19) : Trabadelo – Triacastela (entering Lugo, walked by the highway most of the time but eventually passed some nice small towns, big uphill to O Cebreiro (I took taxi from Las Herrerias (you can also go up by horseback) and had a nice lunch while James walked, visited St. Mary’s church where a miracle took place in the 14th century, lit some candles), walked mostly downhill to Triacastela via alternate route, stayed at Pension Albergue Lemos, modern, impersonal hotel but had a pretty nice double room with bathroom and close walk into town with lots of restaurants) 23.3 km

Day 29 (May 20) : Triacastela – Barbadelo (entering Galicia, via Sarria, large city, had lunch by the river but didnt really do any sightseeing (many people start the Camino here at it is the last 100km, so very crowded), stayed at Casa Barbadelo, large property with several smaller stone buildings, pretty nice, stayed in bunk beds in small dorm room with nice Swedish/Norwegian couple, had nice dinner at the resto) 23 km

Day 30 (May 21) : Barbadelo – Portomarin (crossed long bridge, then took long stone stairway up the top of the town, which was pretty nice, stayed at Pension Mar, house- turned-small hotel, had private room with balcony and shared bathroom, ate pizza across the street) 21.9 km

Day 31 (May 22) : Portomarin – Palas de Rei (started following the official Camino stages; long, gradual uphill, passed many small stone-built towns and tiny, cute, medieval churches, stayed at Casina de Marcelo at the end of town, a single dorm room-hostel with bunk beds and one shared bathroom, run by an Italian man, not the nicest accommodation) 25.2 km

Day 32 (May 23) : Palas de Rei – Ribadiso de Baixo (stayed in Los Caminantes, small, stone-built hostel, stayed in a simple, private room downstairs, with private bath, went out for dinner, not the most exciting town) 25.8 km

Day 33 (May 24) : Ribadiso – A Brea (stayed in Pension The Way, a private residence well outside of town, run by a Brit, nicely decorated but very noisy room on ground floor thanks to loud group of Canadian women with their fancy roll-ons and makeup, owner drove us to town for a meal) 16.1 km

Day 34 (May 25) : A Brea – Santiago de Compostela (Hotel Alexandrie for 2 nights, nice, modern reconverted stone hotel close to the Cathedral) 10.2 km

*Recommend visiting or staying here

^#Wished we had stayed in these towns

^%Probably hardest day of the Camino

⁺Very uninteresting walking, mostly flat, and often quite muddy, rained a lot

 

 

I have a confession to make.

I almost voted for Bush Jr in the 2000 election. My ex was a hard core Republican and he dragged me to one of Bush Jr’s rallies in Missouri. I don’t know if any of your remember this, but Bush Jr ran on a staunch education platform. At the time I thought that’s what America needed, better education.

My dad was also a Republican his whole life (until Obama’s second term election), I still remember making Reagan posters as a child in Ecuador when Reagan first ran for office (my dad was American).

I was finishing my PhD at the time Bush Jr was running for president, and I am half Latina, so one can’t really say all Republicans are uneducated bigots because there are plenty of exceptions. My dad also had a Masters in Business Administration, was extremely well read, and had lived and travelled all over the world.

I guess to me and many others the Republican party used to signify something different, and some of the greatest presidents, from Lincoln to Reagan, were Republicans.

I believe all citizens should be taxed the same percentage of their annual income irrespective of what they make (and it should be kept below 30%), that government should be small, and spending low. Does that make me a Republican? And even though I am a Catholic who believes in God, I think every woman should have the right to choose, and that whatever our actions, we should answer directly to God and not to a bunch of bureaucrats in Washington. Does that make me a Democrat?

While I think people should be entitled to keep the wealth they’ve worked so hard to earn, I also think we should be compassionate as a society and take care of the sick, the disabled, the elderly, and of course our veterans. After all, wasn’t Jesus’ greatest teaching tolerance and compassion?

I lived in Europe for over 15 years and while many call the Europeans a bunch of socialists, I think as a whole they are a more compassionate society, even with the downside of paying higher taxes. Most children get a high quality, public education, even universities are mostly free; people are automatically insured, for illness, disability, and unemployment, and you seldom see homeless people in the central and northern European nations. I do believe this can all come out from a 30% tax bracket, if a streamlined government spends wisely.

So I don’t hold anything against Republicans, or ultra-devout Christians, though during this past election it was hard to understand why people voted for Trump when we had a much better choice available (even with all the accusations of corruption I’m still to see evidence for). Yes, people were tired of big government, middle-class America wanted more jobs, everyone blamed the immigrants (for stealing jobs they didn’t want to do or for raping their women).  But the way things are going we will see more damage to education, the environment, healthcare, racial tolerance, and international diplomacy than we will see benefits to jobs, crime, and personal wealth.

Today I attended my first march, the Women’s March in Denver, full of emotion. I felt part of something really big, maybe it was the overwhelming solidarity from women all over the world, marching alongside us, from Sydney, to Paris, to Nairobi, to Berlin. Because somehow 65 million Americans and millions of people all over the world seem to realize how dangerous this new POTUS is, not just for the USA but the world.

Yet millions of Americans still think Trump signifies a better America. FYI: America was already great. I’m not saying it was perfect. There were plenty of things that had to be fixed. But if one bothers to get educated and is willing to work his/her butt off, I would guarantee he/she would prosper. And if for some reason one didn’t prosper, the more sensible thing to do wouldn’t have been to blame it on the POTUS.

I often wonder if the average Trump voter had been given a free plane ticket to another continent, visited countries rich and poor, seen how other cultures live, how they treat each other and the planet, they would realise how thinking and behaving differently can be an asset not a threat, perhaps they would even see how great we really have it. I wonder if disgruntled Trump voters would stop viewing their needs with entitlement and their misfortune with disdain, perhaps even contemplate that their financial misfortune wasn’t Obama’s fault, or the doing of those bloody Democrats and their big government. Perhaps it was circumstance, global markets, or maybe even the Republicans who were in control of Congress for the last 8 years. Whatever the problem, and whoever caused it, I firmly believe Trump is NOT the solution.

We marched today because Trump has a complete disregard for the environment, because he belittles women and minorities, because he is a fear monger, because he lies, lies and keeps lying (e.g. draining the swamp), because he is nominating completely incompetent people to his cabinet, because he can’t speak or probably even think in coherent sentences, because he attacks anyone who challenges him, and because he is simply mentally unstable.

We have all lost friends and distanced family during this election because of differing political views. Let us not become enemies because we cannot understand what human values we all share.

As many of those who know me well will attest, I have dated some real dweebs. Ok, not the totally worthless garden variety (those who sit around and smoke a bong all day and collect welfare), as most were good earners and had at least one redeeming quality (usually the ability to lead a 6a/5.10 pitch), but just not that Grade A quality boyfriend every girl hopes for.

After a couple of years of dating just climbers (which led to some really good climbs but unfortunately not very good relationships), I decided to try something different: match.com!

Dating websites are designed to deceive, everybody pretends to be 500% better than they really are.

I clearly stated I was only looking for men who did SPORTS. Well, one guy wrote me who insisted he was my match! I asked him what sports he did, he claimed sailing and hiking.

It turns out the last time he hiked was 8 years prior, and that ‘sailing’ really meant taking his motorized yacht on a small lake once a year.

I told him it wouldn’t work out so there was not point in meeting.

He insisted, so I said fine, one drink, that’s it, just to get my butt out of the tiny apartment I was subletting at the time; I wasn’t working at the time, and was going nuts. So I went out with him and actually had a really great time. Like most upper class Brits, he was quite charming and a good conversationalist (I ignored the fact he was flabby, overweight, and bald, a far cry from the sculpted climbers with hair I was used to dating).

Long story short, I ended up dating this guy for almost 9 months, and actually lived with him full-time for 5. He had a huge house in the French countryside, surrounded by some of the best road biking in the world. He had a huge kitchen; his mom taught me how to bake scones. Oh, and he had 3 big dogs…

At first I was scared of the dogs. Scared they wouldn’t take to me. I had cats most of my life, and a sad, neglected dog growing up who only lived outside, so I didn’t really know much about dogs. Except that they bite you when they’re mad. But soon enough, I bonded with his dogs. The boyfriend worked long hours, and I was only working part-time, so I stayed home, fed the dogs, walked the dogs, played with the dogs. I gave them human food, which he told me not to, because when they looked at me with those sweet, borderline pathetic puppy eyes, I couldn’t refuse; what can I say, I am a pushover.

Whenever I was sad, one of his black labs would put his head on my lap, like he knew I was sad. I’d pet him and I’d feel better. They were always happy to see me when I came home. They seemed to always be smiling at me. Wait, you don’t have baggage, you don’t have ‘issues’, you’re not in a ‘bad mood’, you’re not ‘playing hard to get’, you really just happen to like me, as I am, plain and simple? Ok, I get it, these dog people. Why you’d want to hole yourself up in the countryside with your dogs and stop interacting with humans, who can behave like a-holes, who don’t call you back, you put you down when they’re feeling insecure, who are not always honest and who often seem to have some hidden agenda (and its not a bone!).

Well, the relationship with ‘bad match’ didn’t work out. He hated sports, he hated traveling, he hated adventure, and he didn’t like the mountains (go figure it lasted 9 months!). I did keep doing all those things, btw, just not with him, so in the end felt I had to choose between him and the things I loved doing. So I said sayonara baby. But I did kinda miss his dogs when I moved out.

Sometimes I look back and wonder ‘why did I pick this dweeb?’ or ‘why did I stay with this dweeb so long?’. Well there is always an answer, always a reason, that doesn’t come clear until months or years into the future.

Today I realized I wouldn’t love dogs if it wasn’t for Mr. Dweeb. So thank you Mr. Dweeb. Wyatt thanks you too 🙂

I really struggled with the decision to leave my job. For years, in fact. Like most Gen X-ers, I was encouraged to get an advanced education and enter the work force, follow my ambitions, become successful. I was my father’s daughter, following his puritan work ethic to the purest of p’s.

I started working odd jobs since I was 12, I worked summers during middle school and high school, I worked 20 hours a week throughout my entire Ivy League college education, I worked while getting my PhD, I joined the work force 2 weeks after I finished my PhD, and I just kept on working (of course living in Europe I capitalized on the relaxed work ethic, 37 hour work weeks and 6-8 weeks of vacation if you count bank holidays). But all I knew to do was work.

Towards the end I was making six figures (times two). I could afford the expensive designer furniture, the fancy holidays, the boutique hotels, the 5-star resorts, the shoes, the clothes, and more shoes. But the truth is that for many years I felt unfulfilled. I struggled to grasp what it was that I was put on this earth to do. I was tired of working for companies that seemed to undervalue my skills, for bosses who were ‘absent’, and in my last job, for a department head, who was a narcissist and a bully. During an altercation at work, I decided this was finally my ‘out’. I had contemplated this chess move for about 2 years. Praying I would get fired and collect a lucrative severance package, and so that is how it happened (though in the end we left by mutual agreement, like a divorce of sorts).

I ended up getting 9 months pay after I left, so I did what I always wanted to do: take a sabbatical and travel the world! Not the 2-week holidays I was used to, the ones were you take a fancy roll-on suitcase. But the month long trips where you shove your whole life into a backpack and sort of just wing it.

I’ve always thought of myself as being pretty smart and insightful, but it was during these 6 months of solo travel that I really discovered what life was all about: it was a slowly evolving eureka moment where everything became crystal clear and life made sense. I met so many interesting people, had awe-inspiring, fear-provoking, and tear-jerking moments, and I loved that I was doing it alone – for the first time unfettered by un-devoted, non-committal boyfriends or the gut- wrenching thought that I’d have to be back at work sitting behind a desk in two weeks’ time.

My 6-month sabbatical turned into 9 months, then a year. At some point I started freaking out about the future. Would I ever find another ‘job’ again? Who would ‘take care of me’? Would I have enough money to retire? These constant worries really started to spoil this precious time off. My first strategy for coping was to try and find a new job. I found what I thought was a perfect fit, so I applied. It was the only ‘job’ I’d consider doing. It was at a biotech start-up working for a guy I knew I could respect and admire. He kept me waiting for his decision to hire for a couple of weeks. In the meantime I got an unexpected offer from a billion dollar multi-national, making 800 dollars a day. I stalled, I demanded more money, to work from home, etc etc, I showed the utmost disinterest in working for them, and eventually they retracted their offer because to them it was obvious I didn’t want the job. In the end, the other ‘job’ didn’t come through either, I was left with nothing, so I decided to stop looking for a ‘job’ that I didn’t really want, and start my own company.

This was an outdoor venture doing what I loved most, being in the mountains. Setting up my own business proved challenging and empowering, and I delved into it like everything else prior, 120%. It turned out to be successful and profitable, but not as personally rewarding as I had hoped, or maybe I just wasn’t very good at it. My first instinct was to assume failure, but I came to realize that while I hadn’t hit the bull’s eye, I had come very close on my very first attempt at being an entrepreneur.

Shortly after I started this venture, my father passed away and I decided to move back to the U.S. I met someone (a guy) who shared my passion for travelling and so we decided to go travelling together around the world, which was both amazing and extremely challenging at times, especially as we hardly knew each other and I was mourning the loss of my father.

My father always told me that I could do anything I wanted to do. When I started my own business he was inquisitive and encouraging and even forwarded my website to a few of his friends who said they wished the could attend my retreats (he was 81!).

When I first quit my job I had 3 plans (because as an effective project manager you always have a backup plan if things go wrong with the first plan). I had a Plan A, a Plan B, and a fall-back if all went wrong: Plan C. Plan A was just ‘go and get a new job’. That didn’t work out. Plan B was ‘start your own business’. That sort of worked out, but to live off of it would have meant me staying in Europe, which I didn’t want to do. Plan C was move to the U.S. and live off of my retirement savings until a ‘job’ or new business venture came up. The line between courage and stupidity is often a fine, sometimes transparent, one. I’d like to think I’m more courageous than stupid, but I’ll let you decide.

I’ve been on Plan C for a few months now. I freaked out again recently (when my boyfriend and I started arguing about who would buy the groceries; he was also, up until recently, unemployed), and so I started looking for a new ‘job’. You can tell you don’t really want the ‘job’ you are applying for because your cover letter reads like the most boring, un-enthusiastic, sorry piece of writing you’ve ever done.

I’ve decided to stop worrying, to stop looking for a ‘job’ (at least for now), and start a (another) new business, something I am passionate about. I won’t be making much (if any) money for a while, and yes my savings account keeps dwindling, but nobody who ever achieved great success in life didn’t at some point have to risk it all. And I well remember sitting next to my dying father knowing he wasn’t taking his retirement savings with him to the other side. Being an entrepreneur takes a lot of courage, especially when you don’t have a rich husband, rich daddy, or trust fund to back you.

I’ve decided to be courageous and follow the (life) plan from which I can extract the most meaning. I’ve decided to just wing it and follow this little dream of mine to work with kids who need old dreamers like me to provide them with something no one else has. To make their future a little brighter and their aspirations a little closer to reality.

So here goes Plan C…

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