I Was One With The Water, One With Nature.... And Then I Slipped On Rocks Beneath My Feet

Day two in the jungle:
The night was interesting. I dreamt nonstop dreaming several different things and they were vivid. I woke up several times though feeling quite disorientated each time; not knowing where I was in relation to my surroundings. Maybe it was because it was so dark or maybe because of all the new sounds, smells and fresh air I am experiencing here. Each time I woke up the first thing I could hear was the sound of rushing water from the river beside our cabin and that is the sound that sent me back into my dreams. The morning came...I was tired but ready for the day.
We had planned to have breakfast then hike two hours into the jungle, led by our trusted guide Victor, where we would see three sites of Mayan ruins (ruins that were not very well known to your everyday tourists which made it even more compelling), have a swim, then hike 2 hours back out. I love to explore especially in the forest so I was pumped full of excitement and energy. About three quarters of the way I began to forget the original excitement I had felt at the start of the day and was beginning to just feel the muggy heat of the jungle and the bugs that swarmed you when you stood still. I am not a bug person. I have discovered that I am even less of a bug person when I am hot and dripping with sweat. Never the less the day must go on and everyone was feeling the misery that I was feeling but we pushed onward with the promise of a swim in the not so distant future of our adventure through the jungle.


It was worth every bead of sweat and every bug that bit my skin. This place, tucked away in the middle of the jungle, was paradise. The water was crystal clear and turquoise blue. There were several different wading pools leading up to beautiful white water falls cascading over smooth hundred year old rocks... it was a sight that doesn’t come along in life very often.
We all changed into our bathing suits and dove in! The water was cold but so very, very refreshing. After two hours of walking through the heat of the jungle it was exactly what my body and mind needed.
Michelle and I decided to do a little exploring and investigated the other wading pools each one more beautiful than the last! We saw our guide Victor standing underneath one of the falls and decided to join him. I climbed up the rocks and let the water cascade over my body. I was one with the water, one with nature.... and then I slipped on rocks beneath my feet. If I hadn’t been for Victor and his quick reflexes I might have had a different story of the day. I survived the fall with only a small scrap on my back.
After that rather startling event I decided it might be best if I climbed down and joined the others.
Once we all gathered down around one of the smaller wading pools Victor brought over a hand full of clay that we had dug up from the earth not far from where we were. He explained to us that if we rubbed it on our skin and let it dry that our skin would become, as he put it, ‘as smooth as a babies bottom’ so we all started rubbing this reddish brown clay on our skin! It was fantastic! I think there is something in everyone of us that has a childhood desire to cover their body in mud.
Later Michelle and I followed Victor up one of the water falls, stood in a cave and watched the water fall. I ran my fingers over the rocks in the cave they were smooth from the years of water rushing over them. Victor crawled through a small opening in the cave that lead out to a small rock platform, Michelle and I followed excitedly. He waited and helped us both up and lead us to another pool of water at the very top of the waterfall. It was incredible.
The three of us swam and enjoyed each others company on the top of the falls. Victor showed us many different things, mostly bugs that lived in the vegetation. It was an interesting moment in my life; us speaking little Spanish and him no English. It was non verbal communication; pure and honest. Eye contact and smiles were the foundation of this new friendship we were crating in the waters on the jungle.
Michelle and I joked that we felt like we were female versions of John Smith discovering a new land seeing things through new eyes and Victor and male Pocahontas leading us on an adventure through the wilderness. Victor took us on an adventure I will remember for as long as I live. I left the Jungle with my spirit full and my mind clear.

A Perfectly Pure Moment

Day one in the jungle.
After a seven long hours driving through the most phenomenal back county of Mexico we arrived at La Cong Don. The air here is warm and thick. Even when driving fast down the dirt path to our destination with my hand out the window I can feel the heat of the air. The car pulled up to this small village. Palm leaf roofs on the huts, chickens running around freely, and a goat tied to a tree who greeted us warmly. It was the perfect picture in my mind of how this part of my adventure should look.
We were greeted by an indigenous man who lived in the village and he showed us to where we would be staying. We carried our luggage, which I was now kicking myself for not packing lighter, down a stone path to the cabin we would be calling home for the next three days. This cabin was quite different from the cottage county life we are use to in Canada. This cabin had a tin roof, bamboo shoots which made up three walls, bunk beds with large bug netting surrounding them and no door, just a ramp leading up to a small deck with a hammock off to the side of our beds. I was in my glory. We were surrounded by nature in almost every way, the next step would be to actually sleep outside on the jungle floor... but I’m not quite ready to venture that far. After we got settled we went for a swim in the pond just feet away from our cabin. The water was cold but refreshing compared to the heat of the air surrounding us. Michelle and I went on a little swimming adventure and explored the neighbouring pond. I must say that I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of animals might be lurking beneath the surface, remembering all those scary movies I had watch over the years. I tried to push them to the back of my head and continued on, I didn’t want my fear to ruin this moment. However when Michelle brought up the movie Anaconda I was pretty much over the exploring thing and was quite content to join Chrissy and Gary in the other pond close to our cabin, safely in numbers I thought.
After our swim we all decided to play some cards and listen to some music. Michelle and I curled up in the hammock, Chrissy in a chair beside us and Gary sat in the rocking chair and put his I Pod on shuffle. The Eagle’s Hotel California came on, one of my favourites. We sat a talked, deciding that tonight conversation was more interesting than a card game. As time went on the music was put lower and lower until we realized that the sounds of nature surrounding us was more beautiful and relaxing than any of the thousands of songs stored on the I pod, so we shut it off and began to listen. The bugs started to get worse. They were attracted to the light, so we shut that off too.
There we were the four of us sitting on the deck of our cabin beside a pond, listening the sounds of the forest in the pitch black talking about the world, people in it, and our lives here compared to our lives back home. We talked about why we were here and what this journey meant to us. We talked about all sorts of things; whatever popped into our minds was a topic to be discussed. It was an evening I will remember as long as I live.
No distractions, just conversation from one being to another.
No TV, no radio, no lights, I literally could not see my hand two inches from my face.... nothing, just voices; thoughts and ideas flowing from their lips to my ears and vice versa. It was a perfectly pure moment. That’s the only way to explain it; pure.

People vs. People

Day two in Chiapas: Today we went to a small village called Monte Sion where the Chamulan an indigenous community lived. This particular community or settlement of Chamulan is relatively new. Thirteen years earlier the community that they had been a part of forced them out of the village because of religious differences between the people. The displaced Chamulan were outcast for changing their beliefs. In a country with so much conflict in it, it was a tough thing for me to grasp that the conflicts weren’t only from external causes but also for within communities of people. They were fighting with one another and over what; religion, faith, beliefs. I found out as the day progressed that this was a very common struggle for the indigenous people. Many indigenous tribes were becoming fractured from within their own communities because of differences like this one.
We spoke with a woman about her life and the things they had to overcome in order to survive. This community came together and bought land and began to re-build their lives; when they were forced to leave their village they had to leave everything they owned behind. So they began a new life from scratch. They lived a modest existence to say the least. Their houses were made from wood planks from the trees in the surrounding forests, their roofs were tin and the floors were dirt. They had land to grow corn which they make into tortillas; this is their main source of sustenance. They had food to eat, a roof over their heads but not all their needs were met. Water, as in most of Mexico, was scarce and most times there was not enough to go around for all the essentials of daily living. The government was acknowledging them however, which is not always the case in settlements like this one, and we’re delivering water to them once a week which is stored in a large tank that was provided to the people here by AFCB of Belleville Ontario.
We visited with a family who lived there for a while then went for a walk down to the pond where they had been getting their drinking water from before AFCB had supplied then with a water tank. The sight was shocking. The water was murky almost milky looking, with old chemical garbage containers floating around in it. Now this pond was mainly used for washing clothes but when times are tough and water is in short supply what choice would you have.

Later during reflection I realized something about myself. I consider myself to be environmentally conscious and I try to defend the earth as best as I can and reduce my footprints. But when it comes to international support I think I am more geared to being involved with social injustice. It’s a hard thing to get my mind around though. On one hand I feel obligated to do my part environmentally and fight for our earth but I get lost in the steps when it becomes an international problem to fix. on the other hand I think my passion lies with the injustice of People vs. People. Something about another human being harming another sends and anger through my body that creates passion in my thoughts; a kind of energy that pushes me to act. I think this is where I will be most effective in international support; advocating for the people, against the people.

An Adventure; A Mission To Absorb People Places And Things

Day one in Chiapas: Today Chrissy, Michelle and I embarked on a cultural scavenger hunt designed by or Professor Gary. He wrote out some directions of street names, rights and lefts, on how to get to specific things around San Cristobal without the use of a map. We were on an adventure to observe sights, sounds, people and smells. We visited several churches compared there architecture and color, visited a library where we looked through the collection of literature where I selected a book from the history section, sat down among what looked to be the high school students and some scattered adults, and began to flip through the book. Obviously the book was written in Spanish so I tried as best as I could to find the words that I recognized then paired them with the illustrations of that page and drew a very rough idea of what I was reading. The words were not the focus for me though. I sat in this small library surrounded by the local people of this area and focused on being present. As I looked through the pages of the book and took in the history from the illustrations in its pages I couldn’t help but wonder how many people from the area had chose this book to read before it landed into my hands. I looked up from its pages and scanned the room of young people and felt a sense of difference knowing that i was a unique traveler; I knew that not many travelers to this area would spend any time in a small public library reading about the history of its people, surrounded by its people.

Later we walked together down the streets talking about the atmosphere and what we were seeing and feeling. Without knowing it we were avoiding every ‘normal’ touristy activity; which is in most cases is wrapped up in consumerism. Are goal for the day was to explore and absorb and that is what we set out to accomplish.
We stopped along a walkway to watch a man dancing it this huge character costume that represented a chain of pharmacies here in Mexico. This particular person in the costume was really giving it his all and had attracted a small group of people as we approached. Shortly after we had stopped we were approached by a few guys who spoke English! This is kind of a big deal when you are surrounded by a foreign language. It gave us a sense of a familiarity. They asked what we were doing here in San Cristobal and we explained that we were on placement for school, learning about the culture of Mexico, studding the affects of poverty and strategies to help people sustain a life that they hope to have, as well as our adventure we were on today. They we very supportive and interested in our journey and told us that they were on a journey themselves. They were a small group of people who were driving several vehicles from the USA to Costa Rica to deliver supplies to one of the offices of the organization. It was an amazing feeling to stumble across people in the street thousands of miles away from home that had similar ideals about life and had chosen a life path that I could relate to. We exchanged information and agreed to meet up later and talk more about one another’s adventures. We would have stayed to chat longer if we were playing the role of a tourist but that was not on our agenda for the afternoon; we were on a mission to explore and absorb.

We made our way to the zocolo and sat at the steps of the cathedral. The girls sat down first and were almost instantly surrounded by woman and children trying to sell them their craft and homemade, beautiful, cloth and jewellery. I decided to not sit with them to avoid the awkwardness of turning them away. It is not an easy thing to say no to a woman or a child trying to sell you something and asking you over and over again to buy, dropping their price each time. I know that they rely on these sales for survival; for food and clean water to drink. As they begin to drop their prices from 50 pesos to 25 to 15 pesos (which is less than a dollar and a half Canadian) you begin to realize the desperation of the people here. Furthermore it is one thing to turn away a grown woman but it is quite another to turn away a child. On my first trip to Mexico the sight of a child approaching me to buy from them broke my heart and I couldn’t say no, I couldn’t walk away. This year I was challenged to look at the situation from a different perceptive. Some families live in such poverty they are forced to send their children out onto the street to sell to tourists. When young, adorable children come home at the end of a 10 hour day with a handful of money from tourist who couldn’t turn away, who couldn’t say no to their little faces it shows their parents how profitable a young child is. The next day, they will send that child back out to the streets because they can potentially make twice as much as their parents. not because of what they are selling or because they have excellent salesmanship skills but because first world people feel to ashamed to turn the other way, and really how can you in good conscience say no. The reality of the situation is if you are buying things from children you are enabling the problem.
These children should be in school, they should be playing, they should be having a childhood but instead they are sent to the streets to sell because they generate profit. When we, as tourists, buy things from a child because we feel sorry for them we are showing their parents that they are right; children are profitable. After that revolution I vowed never to purchase anything from a child again. That being said the girls politely said no thank you to the woman and children trying to sell their goods and they left. After all today was not a day for buying there will be time later for that.

Once the sellers had cleared I joined the girls on the steps of the cathedral and we began talking to a man a few steps up from us. He had an aura about him that radiated the air around him. A kind of content and peace that was hard not to notice. He began asking us question of what we were doing and we explained the cultural scavenger hunt we had been on all morning that lead us to this point. In return we asked him what he was doing here in Chiapas. His response was pure and simple; he was on an adventure with no particular agenda in mind. He was traveling on motorcycle to where ever the journey took him. This man was one of those rare people that can truly be in a moment and appreciated it for its simplicity. We spoke of many things touching on traveling, adventures, déjà vu, and the concept of experiential learning. I asked him where his final destination was. His responce was ‘well I’m going to die one day’. That was the best answer i have ever heard.
We parted ways with him and continued on our day. We wondered through the wavers market which was a place where many people gather each day to sell their crafts. It was an explosion of colors and textures, truly a treat for the senses. We continued through, not buying just observing and taking it all in. On our way back to the main zocolo we stopped to look at these carved out coconuts that where shaped into different animals. The man who was making them spoke English and he asked us where we came from. We in turn asked him where he had learnt to speech English so well and he told us he had learned it from selling things on the streets. Things seemed so hard to wrap my mind around. These past few weeks I have struggled so much with the language I couldn’t imagine the amount of concentration it must take to learn a language that way. We said our good bye and continued on or day. As we left he said to us ‘don’t work to hard girls; if you work to hard you will get old fast’

Later on when we were debriefing with Gary about what had happened on our cultural discovery scavenger hunt i realize something. Today we were tourists but not in the typical sense. We had been on an adventure, a mission to absorb people, places and things and to avoid being sucked into the temptation of the almighty consumption. In doing so we met some very interesting people. On our journey not once did we approach people but rather people approached us. These incredibly interesting individuals recognized something about us and were intrigued to know more. By not being a tourist and by having a purpose for our day, without even realizing it, we were radiating energy that attracted people to us. Our energy was pure and transcended to other like minded people who were perceptive to that energy. As a result we had real human connection several times today with people whose tales I admire and respect.

You Only Get One Shot, You Can’t Do It Over Again

Day six: Climbed the mountain in Tepotzlan: If you were to climb without taking breaks your body would not be able to physically make it and you would either give up or collapse from exhausting but if you take a series of same breaks when you start to feel tired and give your body time to rest, recoup and adjust to the elements you could go on forever or in this cause make it to the top of the mountain.
When taking a cab later in the afternoon our cab driver was talking to us about many things but one thing that struck me was when he asked us this question: if the worlds water was divided into four parts Canada would own three of those parts of water. So why don’t you share? (my add on) your water with the people who don’t have any and need it to survive.
The cab went silent; we didn’t know how to answer this man’s question. What do you say to something like that, to someone who comes from a country where water is such a huge problem with survival.
Later in the evening we were invited to the home of one of Gary’s good friends named Carol Hopkins. This woman is truly fascinating and has done countless things and has lead many different lives in her years on this earth. To go into them in this blog would take quite some time but I will name a few to paint you a small picture. Carol was a principal of a school, a world champion triathlon, and a social justice lawyer for people being wrongfully accused of child abuse, just to name a few. As the Quest group and her five international students, who were studying here in Cuernavaca, sat at Carols house around her table eating the food she had prepared for us we shared with one another stories of adventure that we had experienced, concerns for the future and important things that are and had happened in the world, and we shared bits of our own history with each other that built a connection between all of us sitting in a circle around this wooden. Even though most of us had been strangers to each other before this gathering the conversation that followed openly between us was so comfortable and so pure you would have thought that we had all known one another for years and we had gathered for a reunion. One story that was told by Carol stuck out in my mind above the rest, why I am not entirely sure but I will share it with you.
Carol told us a story of her parent married, then divorced then married other people. Then a few years later started having an affair with each other behind their new partners back. Then separated from those people and moved in together. After six months her mother moved out. At the ages of 83 and 87, I believe, they announced to their children that they were getting married again. They were married until her father’s death a few years later. She went to help take care of her father and in the last few days of his life she began writing his obituary. She asked her mother for some details about her father to but in his obituary. Her mother went through some old boxes and found letters he had written her from when he was in the war. After she finished reading these letters she went to her husband’s side and said she needed to talk to him. She told him she had been such a fool and that she hadn’t realized until now that she had been in love with him all of these years. He died a few hours after those words were spoken. “What a waste of time carol said to us, all those years apart, all those years wasted. You only get one shot, you can’t do it over again”

When Help Was Given It Was a Comforting Feeling

Day five: Today was truly an adventure. Chrissy and I decided to go out on our own. The purpose of the day was to compare the differences between the ...market, the l...., and the plaza de Cuernavaca. We had no idea what bus to take we only new which direction to travel in. So we made our way from the abbey to the main street to catch the bus. On our way we noticed that there was a small market set up in one of the streets. This was put on by locals of the area (I believe). It had a feel of a community yard sale. There were things for sale that were new and used, there were odds and ends and fresh fruit and food for sale.

The energy was friendly which was nice because we were the only ‘outsiders’ strolling through the street. We stopped at one booth to look at some music that was for sale and the man tending helped us choose some good tunes and steered us away from the music that wasn’t so good! I appreciated that. We didn’t spend much time there because we had a full day ahead of us and we were not sure how long it would take us to get to all the places we wanted to go, especially because we had no idea how to get to them. We walked to the bus stop and asked a woman what bus we should take, in Spanish of course, and after a few minutes of her talking to us it was quite clear that we didn’t understand what she was saying. But we managed to get our message across and she directed us to the bus we need to take.

Once on the bus Chrissy and I used the time to get out our Spanish/English dictionary and write down some key phrases that we were going to need to know how to say during the day. Things like where is – Donde esta, how do you get to – como se llega, is this the right way – vamos bein para, where are we – donde estamos, does this bus go to – esta autobus va a (which would have been good to know just a few minutes prior), and of course the all important question; where are the toilets – donde estan los servicios. The list goes on but you get the picture. You would think that from riding the bus as many times as we both have we would know that trying to write was not the best idea but we did our best. Chrissy looked up important things and I wrote them out, or at least tried to, but it ended up looking like I had written them with my left hand in the dark.

The bus we got on wasn’t the bus we normally took so I became a little nervous when I was recognizing the scenery around me but I had faith that no matter what happened, even if we got lost, it would be ok. Besides I had Chrissy with me so even if we did end up lost in Mexico it would be an adventure none the less and would make for a great story I’m sure. The woman at the bus stop must have told the bus driver where we wanted to go because we got our attention as we were hesitating to exit the bus. He motioned for us to get off and pointed straight ahead to let us know where we needed to go. I appreciated that very much; he most certainly did not have to do that. When we arrived at the zocolo we found an entrance to the market place and decided to go in. It wasn’t an entrance we had used before and we would soon find out why. We spent a very brief time in that area of the market before exiting the way we had come in, I won’t get into details but we affectionately renamed that part of the market plaza de porno.

We found another entrance that seemed much more PG for 11am in the morning and began our observation of what was going on. This particular market is like a labyrinth or a flea market on steroids if you can imagine that so there are a lot of things going on simultaneously all around. Lots to see, smell, and if you’re brave enough taste!

We found ourselves at an exit which leads to a street so we took it and turns out that the Lido was only a few short blocks away. We were stunned that our luck of stumbling across our second destination! We entered a gated door way and were greeted by a man sitting on the stepped ushering us in. Once inside I was a little shocked. The Lido Is known as the black market and went I was told about it my mind created a dark image of an underground market that was hush hush. To my surprise it was not that at all. It wasn’t hidden or underground actually it was quite the opposite in fact.

We left the Lido and headed to the zocolo for some lunch at a cafe we knew was nearby. Over lunch we talked about what we had seen and the differences between the two and got a map of the area so we could locate our third destination, plaza de Cuernavaca. Once we had mapped our route we decided that it would be nice to try to walk there. So we were off armed with our map, our enthusiasm and high hopes, our list of phrases and our hope that we would not get run over by a bus in our attempts to complete of days mission. The first person we stopped to ask for directions was very nice and pointed us in the right direction so that’s the way we headed. A Mexican woman driving who spoke English must have heard us ask the man because she drove up beside us stopping traffic behind her and asked us where we were going. We told her and she gave us more detailed directions and said it was quite far to walk, all the while the cab behind her way honking if frustration that she was holding up traffic. She did seem to mind, I appreciated her taking the time to make sure we were all right; she certainly didn’t have to do that. The walk was long but filled with laughter. Chrissy and I seem to work well as a team. The most challenging part was definitely crossing the streets and adapting to sidewalks that slowly disappeared into nothing leaving us, well, in most cases, on the side of a busy high way.
We managed to survive the walk and made it to Plaza de Cuernavaca without any major problems. When we stepped into the plaza the difference between what we had seen a few hours ago was instantly noticed; the lighter color of skin, people were dressed very well, children were playing not working, there were no stairs anywhere just elevators and escalators, no one seemed to notice us; we were not out of place because of our light skin, and no one spoke to us, no one approached us at all except one female security guard how told us that we could not take photographs. Please think a little further about why they do not want tourist to be taking pictures of a wealthy area such as a shopping mall.

All in all it was an amazing day of adventure. Not knowing how to get around in a place is hard but not knowing the language and not being understood in the language you speak intensifies the experience. It was scary but I’m glad that I did it. I stepped out of my comfort zone of having someone lead me and hope to step out even further as the day role on. I have a lot more to learn and hopefully a lot more uncomfortable moments to come where I can push the boundaries of my comfort zone further.
I must point out though that my day would not have turned out as well as it did without the guidance of those people who took the time to stop and help me along the way. They were able to recognize my struggle with the language barrier and offered to help in what every way they could, even if they didn’t know how to help me in English. I don’t know how many people I know, myself included at times, would offer help to someone who was speaking a language you didn’t understand. It almost seems useless. And I will admit at times it was but I appreciated the effort that each person took. To be the person of minority, to be the person that needed help, when help was given it was a comforting feeling. It was a felt like I was connecting with people and I wasn’t completely on my own.

What Fills You The Most

Day four: today we got up early to go to a small village where we were invited to take part in a community project. Half of the group went to help out with the water reservoir up the mountain and half the group went with some locals to help clear a path of vegetation in the forest to prevent forest fires. I choose to take part in the prevention of forest fires. This forest is very important to the people who live near it. They have recently given it the name of the water forest. This forest is has incredible bio diversity and is very important to the wild life that inhabit it. Most of the local people have great respect for this forest. So the group of us gathered at the community center and got onto the back of this truck. There were probably more than 15 people in the back of the truck and when we got on all the people from the community were sitting on the floor... we quick discovered why. Trying to keep your balance in standing up in the back of this huge truck with so many people surrounding you, and of course all of the tools aka machetes, while traveling on roads that were not the most beautifully maintained proved to be a challenging task. So most of us, myself included decided it would be best to take the locals lead and sit our Canadian tushes on the floor of this truck.

Today our job was to clear a three or so meter wide and 50 meter long section of the forest. There were many of us spread out so the idea was for each section to eventually connect with each other. We were paired up with a person from the area, showed how to do the job then we went to work. Our teacher was named Rowben. He didn’t say much but seemed pleasant. I was taken away by the amount of work he was doing and didn’t take a break until the job was basically done Chrissy and I on the other hand had to take turns working because we only have one hoe for the two of us...but we weren’t complaining.
We both discussed later though that even though we did get tired after a while and did need a break once we had a drink and caught our breath we wanted to get right back at it. We were the first ones to finish our section! I think Rowben was impressed. I even helped out another team for a little bit to give them a break. It was a good morning. Once we finished we all met up at the truck that had brought us to the forest where we sat, chatted and had some lunch. Then we all piled back into the truck and anticipated the long and bumpy ride back down to the town. For half of the ride I was able to sit on the top part of the truck above the people who were driving. This is most definitely the most dangerous way I have travelled, but was also the most fun!

Once we meet up with the rest of the group we were able to see the local towns people practising a festival, or parade I guess.
It was full of color and energy and I was glad that I got to see it (I have a video of a part of it) once the festival had past we regrouped. I was off to the side taking things in and taking a few photographs when I noticed an old man walking my way. I smiled, nodded and said bouines tardes to him and to my surprise his face lit up with a beautiful smile, he wished me the same and took my hand to shake it like we had hadn’t seen one another for a long time; old friends reunited. This is the first time a local has embraced me so warmly when I have said hello. He also thanked me. He seemed so appreciative that I had made this gesture. I instantly wanted to know more about this man. I asked if I could take a picture of him, so I could remember what he looked like, but he was shy and said no. We parted ways but he stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon in my thought. I wonder if he is that way with everyone who greats him on the street? Or maybe I was the first person in a while that had acknowledged him. I will never know but it made me think deeper into the importance a simple hello might be to someone.

Once we returned to the Abby we met for an early dinner then had a surprise visit from the Lopez family. They were on their way back to their village and wanted to stop to see if we had any specific things they wanted us to make for when we meet up with them next week. After a rather confusing piece of time we managed to get all the orders down for them to make. We also had an opportunity to talk with them in a more relaxed pressure free environment. When we met with them last year it was a kind of crazy situation that was focussed in one way on their story and in another way on them selling us their goods. So it was nice to chat with them without the pressure to buy and for them to just be around us.

After the Lopez family left we headed down to one of the halls at the Abby to listen to Dada a speaker and yoga instructor who came to talk to us about the importance of relaxation, meditating, and some life ideas. Some of which were the concept of human culture, which I found quite interesting because a traveler I enjoy exploring different culture but I have yet to explore the idea of the human culture that connects us all. Another idea was the importance of breathing. Breathing slowly quiets the mind and relaxes the body; it is the bridge to the body and mind.
He also spoke about the importance of positive thinking. Someone asked him ‘how do you stop the busy mind from wondering, how to you slow things down?’ his answer was a fusion between all the things I have just mentioned. Breathing slows down the heart and relaxes the body, positive thinking helps to feed your brain with positive energy which helps you see the important things around you, being aware of the human culture and understanding that everyone is connected and we are all fundamentally the same, and love. Love is the most important thing we can have in our lives. It is the only thing worth living for. It is what fills us the most. Love in a sense is the only real thing.