Walking on through the storm

I have been in Montevideo for pretty much four weeks now and it’s unexpectedly become a rocky ride. At first I was hanging out here by choice – I found the city a great place to spend some time, and flung out emails left, right and centre for teaching work and apartment rentals, while planning to head to the beach for the Christmas holiday.

However, as Christmas approached, things suddenly didn’t look so rosy.

A couple of months ago, on my last night in Peru while waiting for the bus, my wallet had been stolen out of my rucksack. Unfortunately my bank card was inside, and for the coming weeks I planned to be on the move almost every day so there was no chance of getting sent a new one without staying put for a good while. Buenos Aires’ post offices refused to do poste restante for me, but thankfully when I arrived in Montevideo they offered the service – and for free.

By then it wasn’t long before my cash supply ran down to zero and my bank card would take 10 days to arrive, so the Christmas and New Year period I spent sat in my cheap hotel room, with supermarket food bought on my credit card.

After New Year, my bank card finally arrived, but I also received devastating news from home that my beloved cat Molly had been run over and died.

By this point I began to wonder why on earth I had given up what was really quite a wonderful life back in England, where I was surrounded by lovely people whom I love very much, had a great home with my cat and my five housemates, had a decent job with a good salary that allowed me to do anything I wanted. Why, why, why did I give up all of that? Was I ungrateful? Greedy? Always wanting more? Never satisfied?

These have been dark days, but slowly I’m coming out to the other side where the sun is breaking through – I know there are good times ahead and that my loved ones will support me all the way. There are mountains I will climb, waterfalls I’ll stand beneath and new four-legged friends whose fur I’ll run my hand through.

No matter what hurdles I must face and sadness I will feel along the way, I had to do this – even long before I stepped on to the plane, it was already part of my life.

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Adios, Urubamba

As I prepared to go away on this trip, facing the thought of leaving my life and loved ones in London was hard. What I didn’t expect was that I’d have to do it all again once I was actually out here. Yet here I am, preparing to leave Peru having spent more than three months living in the little town of Urubamba. And I feel sad.

It’s so true that only when you face losing something do you realise how much you love it – now I notice how the sun falls in my pretty little garden at different times of the day; now I spot all the shop and café owners in town who I recognise and who recognise me; I realise all the places I know where to buy exactly what I’m looking for; I know what all the prices should be; I remember how much I’ve changed since I first arrived wide-eyed. Now it’s time to start again, to be the stranger flailing around in the foreign land. It’s time for new adventures, challenges and surprises.

And this time, I don’t think I’ll be coming back to this place that has so warmly been my home.

So adios, Urubamba, gracias por su hospitalidad. Thank you Carlos and Carlos for your hospitality at Kai and the little house in Chajhuar. Thank you Johannes for taking me there to start with. Hasta luego, Cristian (don’t drink or smoke); chau Patrick, thank you for the dinners and the laughs; see you later, Clayton, Shon, Jason, Ronnie, Fran, Elise, Mel, Melinda, Erin, Ali.

Bring it on, Bolivia!

Urubamba's main plaza

Urubambians enjoying sundown in the main plaza