Pensamientos de una mujer en este día de la mujer

Inspirada por tantos posts (que si felicitarnos, que si no felicitarnos, que si rojo, que si blanco, que si el clima está loco es porque es el día de la mujer, que si cualquier cosa) decidí escribir una pequeña (or maybe not) nota respecto a lo que significa para mí ser mujer.

Honestamente no le doy mucho vuelo al asunto. He de admitir que vivo una vida de cierta forma “privilegiada”. Digamos que sería de las mujeres que “La Bestia” secuestraría por no ser “pura” al no haber experimentado realmente sufrimiento(1). Sé que gracias a otras mujeres en la historia me es posible expresarme, votar, ¡incluso correr un maratón! Sin embargo me ha tocado vivir uno que otro momento donde he dicho “¿cómo es que por ser mujer me tratas diferente?”.

La primera vez que lo hice consciente fue en alguna reunión familiar. Recuerdo que quería tomar un trago, pero en aquellos ayeres mi familia veía raro que una mujer tomara tanto, así que me sirvieron poquito. Obvio yo no era ninguna amateur, pero de momento me quedé callada. Vi como mis tíos servían a los primos hombres mucho más cargado que a las mujeres. Tal vez no el mejor ejemplo de la pregunta que hice en el párrafo pasado, pero fue de las primeras veces dónde lo pensé.

En la misma línea familiar, al empezar a salir de fiesta tenía que dar santo y seña de dónde iba a estar, con quién, a qué hora volvía. Y mi hermano simplemente se iba y ya. Claro que ahí no había mucho que mis padres pudieran hacer porque él agarraba y se iba sin más. Creo que a mi me faltaba más eso. Pero no por eso desistí y eventualmente logré que mis padres confiaran en mi buen juicio y en que regresaría con bien.

Ahora, hablando de las salidas nocturnas, de las caminatas sola por la ciudad, de poder ir a tomarme un trago sin tener que preocuparme de qué le puedan o no poner a mi bebida. Quiénes me conocen saben que soy muy independiente, y que me muevo de aquí para allá. Voy sola, acompañada, encuentro amigos en el camino, me desvelo con grupos de desconocidos. Al final me siento muy segura de hacerlo y afortunada de que al momento no me haya ocurrido nada. Y quiero que siga siendo así, y voy a seguir llendo de aquí para allá; sé que muchos me dirán “con cuidado” y voy con ese cuidado; pero sepan que no es lo mismo a tener miedo de salir. No por miedo a que me puedan asaltar, violar o secuestrar voy a dejar de salir y de hacer mis cosas.

Creo que parte de mi pregunta “¿cómo es que por ser mujer me tratas diferente?”, está la parte de ¿por qué como mujeres nos tratamos diferente? Sí, es difícil. Sí, la cosa está peligrosa. Pero dejemos de pensar que puede pasarnos y más bien no dejemos que ese miedo nos domine. Yo estoy segura que somos más los buenos, siempre me ha tocado la fortuna de que cuando me encuentro en cualquier situación desfavorable (peligrosa o no), hay alguien que está ahí para ayudarme(2).

Soy un poquito intensa y quiero las cosas a mi manera; pero es porque quiero seguir siendo yo. Quiero seguir con esa chispa que me lleva por la vida, aprendiendo y creciendo. Alguna vez alguien me describió como una mujer “echada pa’ delante”, algo así como alguien motivada que no acepta un NO por respuesta. Y en general no me quedo callada ante una injusticia; ¡grito y pataleo! Me hago notar para que sepan que aquí estoy. Porque aquí estoy y tengo un valor y no dejo que nadie me “traiga pa’ abajo”(3)

Entonces, dado que hoy es día de la mujer y de la lucha de muchas tanto en el pasado como en el presente, hoy decidí escribir unas breves líneas de cómo me siento como mujer. Tal vez no es mi mejor texto, y seguramente seguí que mi tren de pensamiento dictara el flujo de mis palabras. Pero así soy. Medio distraída a veces pero siempre fiel a lo que siento y pienso.

Gracias a quienes se tomaron los 5 minutos de leerme. 😘 Good night & Good luck 😉😉

La despedida de tu viajera

"Mi viajera"; eso fue lo que me dijiste, un día muy parecido a hoy. Aun recuerdo cómo llegué a ese cuarto lleno de personas que le decían adiós a un ser querido. Llegaba de un viaje, si no hubiera pasado mi papá por mi, todavía tendría la mochila al hombro. Venía en fachas, despeinada (como si eso fuera algo raro en mi), aun tenía el traje de baño bajo la ropa; de milagro había encontrado mi tennis y no llegué en chanclas. Pero llegué a buscarte, a abrazarte, darte un beso y consolarte. Me sentía un poco apenada de mi vestimenta, aunque lo que más me importaba era estar ahí.

Fue cuando me abrazaste que lo dijiste, con una sonrisa triste, pero alegre de verme. Me llamaste tu viajera.

Y a partir de ahí fue como si me hubieras inyectado de más energía para viajar. Y estuve viajando un año, en mi Playlist había una canción que me recordaba a ti, y me daba alegría saber que yo era Tu Viajera. Y conocí muchos lugares, algunos me recordaban a ti.

Esta es mi forma de despedirme, de agradecerte por dejarme ser tu viajera; por permitirme contarte mil historias de los lugares que visité. Ahora seguiré mi camino, y te seguiré recordando en todo momento.

"It's all good and I love you grandma" - One man can change the world by Big Sean

Lost at home

I hit pause on traveling for a while. It's a pause on living life on the road, but it isn't a pause on new adventures. The thing with being a traveller is that every little detail in life will surprise you. I've enjoyed every commute to work, even those where I thought I wasn't going to make it out alive.

For a moment I forgot about it. I forgot that life is an adventure, a track with highs and lows. Somehow I felt like a bird who had lost it's wings. I was depressed, tried to kick myself out of it by going out with some friends, accepting every invite anywhere. But I still felt I kept going down and there was no way out. My life seemed without meaning. The idea of not being out there, traveling and keep moving was very overwhelming.

Everyone kept asking the same questions: what's next? Where to next? What's your plan? How long will you stay here? Anxiety kicked in every time and all I wanted was to go back to my parents' place, lock myself in the studio (my room for the time being), watch series and movies, and don't leave until I had everything figured out. Which I did, except for the part of figuring things out. Still I got no idea of what I wanted.

Being back and seeing everything so different. I felt like I didn't belong, but whenever I said something, people wouldn't understand where I was coming from.

I felt lost, and I was lost. At The Simon Community we described it as cabin fever, for the homeless who suddenly get themselves into a home. Suddenly feeling stuck in four walls, but for me it was being stuck somewhere, unable to keep on traveling, unable to come up with a plan. That's why my room suddenly became my fortress. It was a place where I didn't needed a plan, where I could just be me.



But it wasn't enough, sharing the house with my family and feeling part of a different community led me to a need to contribute in a way. Money wasn't an option. Again like being back at the house in Malden Road the way I found to contribute was by keeping the place in order. But there are no rules in a family, the sense of community is different and somehow parents are supposed to provide to their children, even though they have jobs and spend most of their time outside.

It tore me apart to see how a Mexican family lives, as children we demand from our parents. I felt awful for being so mad whenever my mom asked me to help doing the dishes, my bed or my own laundry. She made me independent; and traveling opened my eyes to the idea that a family is also a community of people helping out.

I guess that was the point where I said enough. I needed to get back out there; not only see friends and hang out with them; but get my life back. The path was unknown, but it was my path. Who cared what people thought, or what their question was. I decided to smile and change the subject. Or perhaps give them what they wanted to hear: it had all been great but I'll stay.

Travellers are a rare species. And there are many different kind of us. Settlers don't get it. How can someone just give up their comfort zone? How can anyone travel on a low budget? Is it possible? Are they crazy?

I hit pause on traveling and forgot I'm not stopping. I won't stop, every moment is part of a big adventure. Being a traveler isn't about being a nomad. It's in our blood, in every small detail and every surprise we get with it. I may not be carrying a backpack nor moving from one place to the next; but I'm traveling because after all, living is the ultimate adventure.

Am I really back home?

Previously I've described myself as a homeless traveler, so how can a homeless be back home? It sounds ironic, and certainly has been very challenging. I'm back in my home country, my home town. I've surrounded myself among friends and family I've missed. But while I was out there traveling and exploring the world, they were continuing living. People got engaged, had babies, got a promotion at work, moved on.

For me it was like hitting a pause button, and now that I'm back the need of fast forwarding to keep up to date has been very overwhelming.

What's next? What is your plan? How long will you stay in Mexico for? These and many other questions have been asked by friends, family and strangers. I have no real answer. I'm of the idea that the best plan is to have no plan. And don't get me wrong, I have a general idea of what I want to do with my life, but I decided not to share it with everyone, and let life surprise me.

When I was living at The Simon Community, I got to see how difficult it was for some of the residents to go from having no place to live to be in a place that had walls. We described it as "Cabin fever". Feeling trapped in a confined space. Now I'm experiencing the same, maybe a bit different because I'm aware. I feel depressed and decide not to leave my room, I could sleep all day. If I leave, I want to stay out as much as possible and being around friends.

I've had some time to think about this; to reflect and let my feelings out.

Somehow I feel that I'm back in a world where money is important. Yes, you read me write, I mean that when I was traveling, money wasn't really that big of a deal. Now I'm back into my parents' house, where my room is the studio, the visitors' room. And I want to go out, explore the city, have fun with friends. But everyone is working, if I want to go out at night, I gotta get a cab to come back; if I order a glass of water with my lunch I get a weird look for not wanting to spend money on drinks.

When I was traveling, I could work on pretty much anything in exchange for food and shelter. I was a waitress, dish washer, farmer, house keeping... anything. And I enjoyed every bit of it, I felt good with myself because I was accomplishing something I wanted. I was traveling. Apparently now that I'm back home that is not good enough, people will look at me as an alien whenever I tell them I want to do any of the jobs previously mentioned. This time instead of food and accommodation (my parents are temporary providing it) I get money. And I will feel proud of myself because I'm having a good time, doing something I like and pursuing my dreams.

I'm not the kind of person who worries about what others think; but it's difficult not to care, or not to listen. It's too much pressure.

Being back home as a homeless traveler it's difficult. I guess the important thing is to remind yourself of your own long-term plan. What do you want out of life? I want to live, to love and to enjoy each moment. Being a homeless traveler doesn't mean you don't have a home, it means you have many of them. That's why it's normal to be homesick once you settle. Now I'm in the first place I called home, I might settle for a while, but home is calling me; I'll go back to the road whenever it's time to do so.

Getting used to goodbyes

"You meet different people each semester, I guess you're used to say goodbye by now" was a comment I got once from an international student in my university. I've made many friends with foreign students and each semester I had to see people leaving hoping we would meet again. My response on that moment was: "you don't get used to say goodbye, it is sad every time". I guess I could add now that you learn that people who matter will stay close to you, even if you are miles apart, or you go without talking for years. During my time in London I spent some days with a friend from High school whom I haven't seen for 10 years. She was a good friend then and it's a good friend now.

It's that moment again, the time for a change in my life, to move and leave my life as I know it behind. It's time for a new adventure. Time to be transplanted somewhere else. I knew this time will come. My time in London was limited and it passed so quickly. When I was traveling I only thought about the new thing, the next journey. Time wasn't spent on good-byes because they were only short trips. Yesterday I realized I'm leaving, and I remembered that it's always sad to say goodbye. So now I'm using these few days as days to sink into the soil that I'm in now, and enjoy. Take the most out of it, enjoy the company of those who will become distant for an uncertain time.

It's great knowing that I'll be missed, and feeling sad about moving on. That's when you know you've made a difference, when you've made an impression and somehow leave a legacy behind you. It's also great to be happy about what's coming up. It keeps you motivated, keeps you going. That bittersweet feeling is telling you you're doing something right in your life, specially if there's more happiness in it.

So the time is soon to come. After a year of travels, I've learnt that people will always be there. A friend will remain your friend, even if time goes by and you don't see again, the memories will remain. It'll be sad, a bit nostalgic leaving people behind, but we need to keep moving, keep living our life. It's never a good-bye, it's a see you later. Even if the later doesn't happen, you can remember there was someone there for you and great memories were created.

¿Cómo viajar por Europa?

Cuando decidí viajar por Europa mi plan era hacerlo por al menos un año. Mi meta era estar un año lejos de casa, sin embargo tenía la duda de cómo viajar por Europa por un largo periodo. Sabía de varios amigos que habían hecho este viaje, por lo cual les pregunté. Les explicaré a continuación, pero creo que lo más fácil será explicarlo con las fechas de mi viaje.

Los mexicanos no requerimos de visa para viajar a Europa, sin embargo, hay una región de Europa donde no podemos permanecer más de 90 días en un periodo de 180 días. Es importante respetar los tiempos concedidos por los países ya que además de tener una multa por exceder tu estancia, el país puede prohibirte el reingreso por un tiempo determinado. El secreto está en entender cómo funciona realmente la restricción de 3 meses en 6 meses.

La idea de estar en los estados de la región Schengen por 3 meses en un periodo de 6 meses me parecía un poco confusa. Pensé que si si pasaba 2 meses en la región, luego esperaba 3 meses, me quedaba un mes en la región de los 6 meses y así podría viajar por 3 meses del siguiente periodo. De esta forma estaría 4 meses en Europa sin problemas. Sin embargo, esto no funciona así. Uno puede viajar por la zona Schengen por un máximo de 3 meses.

Mapa de los estados Schengen.

Mi sugerencia es que tengan una forma de contar los días. Un calendario puede ser muy útil. Contar los días que están en los países pertenecientes a la zona Schengen. Por ejemplo, en mi caso estuve 59 días viajando por Europa antes de irme a Marruecos, donde pasé otros 30 días. Si quería regresar a Europa, tenía 31 días restantes. Después tendría que salir y esperar que pasaran 180 días desde el primer día que entré a Europa la primera vez.

Reino Unido e Irlanda no entran en los estados Schengen, pero puede que te pregunten cuánto tiempo planeas quedarte y te pidan prueba de salida del país. En ocasiones, el oficial de migración podrá determinar el tiempo de tu estancia. Cuando yo entré no tuve problemas. Ahora estoy trabajando en Londres. Para eso necesito una visa, aunque sea trabajo voluntario. De hecho para poder trabajar con WorkAway o WOOF es necesario contar con la visa o no decir en migración tus planes. Sólo puedes trabajar por 30 días, incluso si es un trabajo por el cual no recibas un pago. Es muy sencillo tramitar una visa, puedes hacerlo sin necesidad de volver a tu país de origen.

Por último, es importante mencionar que si quisiera utilizar mis 31 días al final del periodo de los 180 días y poder tener 90 días adicionales no podría hacerlo. Son 180 días al pasado, los dias los cuentan hacia atrás. Si entré a Europa el 18 de marzo, salí el 16 de mayo, regreso el 15 de agosto para tomar mis últimos 31 días, a partir del 15 de septiembre he estado 59 días en Europa; contando los días de septiembre, agosto y mayo.

A year of travels...

That time of the year is coming, when I look back at everything I've achieved, all the great people I've met, those who have taught me how to deal with complicated situations, the places I've visited, the experiences I've had. I had it planned for some years, I wanted to explore the world, buy a ticket to Germany and figure out what to do with my life. After months of planning, trying to get myself around the idea of getting a job in another country, I bought a one-way ticket. I was happy, 2015 was going to be THE YEAR! My New Year's resolutions came down to just one: grab my backpack and travel. Suddenly the idea of working abroad changed into just traveling.

Many questions were asked, specially by others, what was I going to do? How much money would I need? Where was I going to travel? How was I going to make it? To much of these questions I didn't had an answer to. I really didn't care about having one, my inner self was determined to just do it, I felt that I just needed a little push, once facing myself in Free Falling, I was sure I would spread my wings and fly. Of course I decided not to share this idea with most people, doubts will be raised and they might made me change my mind.

The first three months went by so quickly. Suddenly I was on a plane heading to Germany. My first stop was Frankfurt, where I would meet a lovely Hungarian friend I met during my semester abroad in Germany. I remember being at the airport, trying to reach her to figure out the meeting point. I had a big backpack and an even bigger suitcase. When I saw her, just like in the movies, I ran towards her, leaving the suitcase for a while. It was magical. She drove me to Mainz, where I was going to stay with a girl who soon become part of my travel-family (people who I consider part of my family and have met them during my travels). But more about her later.

The next destination was Marburg, from which I've only heard from a German who studied in Mexico. It was a really nice place. I stayed two weeks on a Summer Camp, where I volunteered and improved my German. It was an amazing experience. I met people from Mexico, Russia, France, England, Korea, Japan and Italy. This was the first time doubts came to my mind. What was I doing? What the hell was I thinking? Leaving Mexico just like that? Could I survive with the money I had? I thought I needed to go back and just give it up. But I already had told everyone I was going to be out of Mexico for some time, so going back felt like a failure, I had set up my mind and I knew this was just that moment when things slowed down and I had time to process the idea that this was something new, something I wanted, something good.

Staying in Marburg allowed me to met another travel-relative, a sister. We had tons of things in common, it was as if I've known her from before. After that I traveled to Konstanz and Munich to visit some old friends. I lost my phone, which was a very unlucky moment. Sometimes is good to meet people from your past, they remind you what home is like, and that it can be found anywhere.

I went back to Mainz, having some family there, seems logical to visit, plus it was a good stop before flying to Finland. A funny fact about my trip, I left Mexico, a warm country, to go to Germany, where spring was beginning, therefore a bit colder than Mexico. As it became warmer, I decided to fly to Finland, where it was colder than Germany. Seemed as if I was getting away from the heat.

Finland was great! I mean, it was cold, but I have many friends there. Seeing them after many years and talking like time had not gone by was a reminder that friends will be friends no matter the distance or the time. It was also good to have friends in another city, allowing me to visit more than just Helsinki.

The next part of the trip was a bit of an improvised one. A Polish friend, another good friend from my semester in Germany, and I had planned to go on a trip together. The idea was to travel to Spain from Poland. So I had to come up with a way of traveling to Poland from Helsinki. Maybe a bus, about 20 hours or something close enough. The bus was from Tallinn to Warsaw, making a stop in Riga. It made sense to stay there one or two nights to explore. But if I was already exploring the Baltic region, Vilnius was a must. So the goal became 3 days, 3 cities, 3 countries. It also helped me understand some about the history of these countries, which I barely remember from history class.

I fell in love with those countries, definitely will explore them in the future. But it was just a quick trip at the moment and in the blink of an eye I was in Poland. Again, no time had passed. I explored the city with my friend, had a lovely evening near the river. Party like old times!

Next stop was Spain. It was a challenging trip since this time I had a travel buddy. My crazy no-plan plan became a mess and soon we found ourselves struggling to make some last minute change of plans. We manage to explore Barcelona, staying there more than the original plan, but for me it was a normal day walking around, I was used to carry a big backpack over my shoulders (the big suitcase was sent back home at Munich). My friend wasn't. After spending a week getting tanned, going to parties and talking about life, boys and future plans, we went our different ways. She went back home, I continued travelling.

I had one more week in Spain before going to Morocco. I decided to explore southern Spain, where I could visit another friend I made in Mexico. My plan was to stay at this place in Sevilla and do nothing but rest, he insisted I needed to visit Cordoba and Granada. He had some friends there who might be able to host me. I went, he can be very insistent and there's was not much to do in Sevilla, days were getting warmer and I couldn't stand the heat.

I had a plane ticket to Morocco. The idea was to stay there for a month, get out of the Schengen States so I could travel a bit longer in Europe after that. I looked for something to do, some work or something. That's when I started a profile in Workaway. It was here where I met another travel buddy, an Argentinian girl with a story similar to mine. We traveled a bit, exploring the country together. She went back to Europe and I kept on travelling. I went to Essaouira, where I worked at a Hostel. Not a great experience, but at least I met some great people, whom I met further along my journey.

One of the greatest experiences of my trip happened in Morocco. I went to a Maroon 5 concert. It was one of those moments that life gives you as a surprise, a very nice surprise. One of those stories I'll tell my children, like my dad's story of how he got a better seat at a concert in the UK because he forgot his ticket at the Hotel.

The next destination was a farm in Wales, where I was going to volunteer for two weeks. Again I had the destination but the way to get there was a bit uncertain. I have a friend in London. I met her in Mexico, in the weirdest way possible that involves an urban bus, Trajineras, Xochimilco, a stranger house party, a bottle of Mezcal, some rain and about 40 different people I've never seen in my life. I decided to try to find some job opportunities in London, and Google turned out to be the best tool to do so. I applied for a Volunteer position, helping the homeless. Time would tell if I would get it or not.

To get to St Davis, the Britain's smallest city; I made a quick stop in Cardiff. I must admit I was very ignorant, so I found out this was Wales capital as I arrived there.

Working at a farm I learnt new skills. I had always consider myself not to be a plant person. A plant was something I avoid having since I knew it wouldn't have a long life with me. Suddenly I felt connected to agriculture. I loved seeing, weeding (well not so much loving as just being ok with it), watering, harvesting... It was also a plus that I had worked at a Tractor company back in Mexico, which by the way, was the farmer's favorite brand. I stayed one week longer, it was one of those places you don't want to leave, but you know there's something else waiting for you.

I got an email from the Organisation I applied for in London. I was in! I only needed to get a Visa, so next stop: Germany. As you've learnt by now, my destinations are not direct, and from St Davis I had one more place to go: Bristol. This was the first CouchSurfing mayor event I was going to go. Back at home I went to many of these events, but while travelling it was a bit difficult to coordinate my plans with the ones in the website. It was a great way to meet new people, most of them I met with in different occasions. I'm still looking into the possibility of coming back for next year.

It started in Germany, and there I was once more, as if this country was my base. There's something about this country that keeps dragging me back. The idea was to travel a bit, visiting some friends. But there was a guy, I guess it had to be, there's always a guy. I found another CouchSurfing event in Berlin, it was close to where he lived. It made sense, something about him interested me. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, maybe it was the moment. There had been a guy earlier in my trip, but I continued without much hesitation. Thoughts of going back came to my mind, but it was just a moment, some sort of affair. This was different, at least it wasn't a diversion, I was going to stay in Germany for a month, sorting the paperwork for my Visa.

Suddenly it all worked out. Remember my friend from Mainz? She was going to Berlin as well, to a Healing Festival, and apparently they were looking for volunteers to help them out. So it all worked out, leading me to a new adventure. I knew it could be a mistake, I was just curious about how everything would work out. I knew I was going to stay in London, without much chance of travelling, money was running low; I knew it wasn't meant to be, but I had nothing to loose.

It turned out to be the greatest decision! The Festival was really a Healing place. I met amazing people, I felt I had found another home. Work wasn't hard, I enjoyed washing dishes, being a waitress, painting walls, cleaning rooms. I stayed there for three weeks. Time came to say Good-bye. I found a family, a community where people just are. I felt peace, I felt love, I felt ready to move along. Next stop: London! Six months of volunteering were waiting for me. As for the guy, all I can tell is that is wasn't a mistake, I had a good time, maybe we'll meet again. At least I got a penfriend.

Seems like forever, right? It had only been five months since I was saying farewell to my family and friends back in Mexico. It was time to settle, no more travelling. Just about time, my bank account was screaming it was time to GO BIG OR GO HOME. This was it, my experience working abroad. But it wasn't a regular job. It was about making a difference. I decided to apply because of my smile, a smile like the Sun, that's how someone described it. A smile that warms people's hearts up. So why not take this smile to people who might need some hope, a friendly face to remind them they are not alone.

I wasn't alone either. My friend from Mexico introduced me to her friends. It was as if I've known them for a while back. Partying was great, dancing just because, talking about whatever. It was also great to know that a friend from High School was living in London. Big reunion after 10 years of being apart. I was afraid my birthday would go by unnoticed, I had made my mind that I wouldn't celebrate. But I joined a party, celebrated along side this new friends.

I've been pushed to the limit. I've been challenged by this job with no apparent structure, where there are many exceptions, where defining lines are more blurry than defined. I've cried, felt left alone, felt challenged, laughed, felt confused, felt included... I've discovered myself. I found myself in those who I've helped. I've experienced motherhood, parenting, I've visited people at the hospital, called ambulances, being interrogated by police, gone to a TV show, experienced death; but most importantly, experienced acceptance.

As my holidays were approaching (Two weeks of after 13 weeks of work), I felt my wings were not working anymore. I felt desperate, sad, confused. I had been sucked into an emotional spiral tearing me apart. I survived and made it to The Netherlands. It was a two-week holiday, away from all.

I started in Amsterdam, walking for hours with my backpack again on my shoulders. This time something was different. I saw the homeless in me. Walking all day with their belongings on their backs, looking for a warm place to rest, looking for food. I remembered, when I travel, I'm homeless. Somehow I felt connected more than ever with my place back in London, my home.

Once more, I found a CouchSurfing event. Party, travelers, rough sleeping. That was what I needed. Back to my roots, back to my nomadic way of life. At least for the holidays. It was going so well until my past caught up with me. I tried to avoid it, continue travelling and made my way to Utrecht. I had some trouble with a molar tooth, it became a crown some years ago and suddenly something went wrong; it ached. Fortunately I stayed at my friend's place, a friend I made in Berlin, working at the Hotel, a sister.

The next stop was Brussels, but my tooth wouldn't continue the journey and suddenly I felt drawn back home, drawn back to London to find a dentist, all because for the first time I didn't get a travel insurance and it was cheaper to go back than to stay and have it checked out. I also needed my community. That group of people who somehow became a weird concept of a family.

I was ashamed, ever since I lost it a few years back, it was my best kept secret. Known by only those who needed to know. People who I made swore secrecy. and now there was no hiding. My first day back in London I tried not to talk, to avoid people staring at me. Yes, most homeless have no teeth, but I'm not homeless. I grew up in a society where good looks and aesthetics are quite a big deal. I fought against it, but still wouldn't accept me being toothless.

Suddenly I realized, this is the place where I won't be judged. The Community that I was now part of was created to support those who needed support. Suddenly it became clear why I was there, why I wanted to go back home. So I went to my friend's place for a Christmas dinner. I told her about my problem to which she replied that she didn't notice, even though I wasn't doing anything to hide it. Later I found out how some others had the same problem, and their lives are, well, lives. I experienced acceptance, not from others, but from me. Surprised?

It has been the hell of a ride. This year, has been a life changing moment. It all happened so fast. I know I'm not the same as I was a year ago. Once more, looking back at everything I've achieved, I can say I'm ready to embrace the New Year, I'm ready to see what life has to offer. The journey has just begun.