7th August 2019
Here I am, sitting at a small table in the Healing Dog Hostel’s courtyard. I’m surrounded by earthy-red walls, hanging pot plants and the slow sounds of blues and jazz oozing from the speakers.
I arrived here late evening, stepping through the threshold once again as a solo traveller, having spent three weeks as a part of a 20 person group. I’m pleased to be alone again, on the road again.
It’s been one month of travelling now and I can hardly believe all the amazing things I’ve done. I’ve been to the equator line (Mitad del Mundo), explored the Amazon, ziplined through rainbows, abseiled down waterfalls, danced until three in the morning to bongo drums, hiked through mountains to lagoons, skinny dipped in the sea watching the sunset, rock climbed, listened to music as we drove above the clouds, laughed, connected and reflected on life.
Even now, however, as I immerse myself in the same holds of this diary, I feel relief to be moving on. I’m back to being only with me, with this new sense of freedom and independence.
I’m now focusing my time, here at the Healing Dog, on what I want to do next.
I have a long-held and deep desire to be out in the mountains somewhere, working alongside nature, tending to plants and harvesting vegetables, then sleeping under the stars and moon. Or perhaps working on a beach — manning a bar made out of bamboo, preparing vegan food for guests, sweeping sand off the footpaths with palm-leaves.
I’m taking pleasure in the unknown and uncertain. This is the beauty of travel.
It’s getting chilly out here, so I’ll return to my bunk bed. I feel so content, like I am exactly, precisely where I should be.
