Is journalism an illusion?

Euro is going to crash, the Greeks are going to sink Europe, world is coming to an end.

Media has been screaming for a disaster for years now. Euro has been predicted to fall and crash, and take every euro-zone country with it (and maybe even the rest of the world). However euro is still much stronger than dollar or the British pound. Yes, it has come down from its highest – 1.46 against a dollar, now 1.22 – but it still hasn’t sunk completely.

Greece is in great trouble, same with Spain, Ireland and Portugal. Italy is to follow, and number of other countries. Unless we do something dramatic, we are all going to die.

This is pretty much the message that media is sending out. Well, they are only repeating what policymakers or specialists are saying. Maybe so, but media decides how to title, how to quote and how to analyze. Yet it seems everyone is just repeating everyone – media is going around in circles, because nobody dares to claim something different.

I’m part of media. Journalism has been my passion as long as I can remember, but I’m starting to question whether newspapers, magazines, online editions etc. actually know why they were originally founded.

Wikipedia describes journalism as “investigation and reporting of events, issues and trends to broad audiences”. Investigation. That’s the key word. Not only reporting, but investigating. Analyzing. Explaining. Not only telling people what is going on but letting them know why and how. And repeating what some economist or politician has said about why and how is not it!

I’m starting to wonder whether I am only part of the problem myself. Does journalism even exist? Or is journalism, at the end, only entertainment? Maybe it’s impossible to be completely objective. Maybe it’s impossible not to have an agenda. Maybe I’m naive thinking journalism could make a difference – a difference that is not driven by selfish agenda, but by the good of the people, truth and justice.

Or maybe I’m just used to having things quite well. Finnish freedom of the press and freedom of speech is often praised around the world. This is sadly only half the truth; yes we have free press, but what do we do with our freedom? We follow the cycle. We repeat the same things over and over again. Read one newspaper and you have read them all.

Finnish journalists don’t specialize. They don’t investigate (checking Wikipedia does not count. And yes I know I used Wikipedia myself for this post). They don’t analyze, because they do not have the abilities or knowledge to do so. In United States, for example, a journalist can be so professional in his field that is often asked to speak as an expert on the issue. That would never happen in Finland – at least not with my generation of journalists.

I worry for the quality of Finnish journalism. Finnish press has never been as free as now, yet it has never been as disappointing. Nothing I read in the paper can surprise me anymore. It’s all the same.

Please don’t take this as criticism for single journalists. Please take this as criticism for media corporations, for the system as a whole.

- People may expect too much of journalism. Not only do they expect it to be entertaining, they expect it to be true.
Lewis H. Lapham

Couchsurf your life

Many things have happened since I left Belize and last updated my blog. I have met interesting people, heard profound life stories and traveled Mexico and United States.

I have couchsurfed. In Playa del Carmen, Isla Mujeres, Cancun and Miami.

I have to say that couchsurfing is by far one of the best things I have done. People who are part of that community know exactly what I am talking about, but people who are not familiar with the concept might find it odd. Some of my friends, or people I meet, don’t really know much about couchsurfing and when I explain it to them, they seem suspicious.

Usually the first question is how safe can it be; what if you end up staying with some creep? Well, usually at that point I explain how it works and how they make it safe. And according to research, couchsurfing is actually safer than regular traveling.

Then the other question is usually about money: you don’t pay to surf someone’s couch. And for that reason some think that the surfer is actually the one gaining something from the deal, while the host/hostess is the loser. Well, this is exactly why I love couchsurfing: hosts never think like this. People who are hosting surfers don’t think they are losing something: otherwise they would not do it!

Hosting people from different countries, getting to know them, their personalities and sense of humor, stories from back home and travels, can be very rewarding. It is an exchange of cultures and exchange of ideas.

My question would be: do you always have to win or gain something in order to do a nice thing for another person? And if so, how can you measure your gain? Financially, materially, or maybe mentally?

During my travels it has been the encounters with other human beings that have made the greatest impact in my life. The kind of impact that makes you think about life, view it differently, wanting to change your life and realizing how self-involved you can be.

Owning only what I carry in my backpack, traveling across continents, learning new languages and cultures and making new friends on the way have made me revalue my life. This life that we have, at best, is a short interaction with others, an expedition in yourself. Who am I? How do I really want to live my life? What is really important?

I could live the rest of my life with owning nothing but the clothes that I’m wearing, and I could be perfectly happy. But this doesn’t mean I think badly of owning things, nor does it mean I believe I should never own anything. It simply means that there are several dimensions in life, and the material side is not the most important one. What we own or have gained does not measure the quality of our lives.

"Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending."

- Maria Robinson

Belize and People

When I started my trip in Guatemala not too long ago, I could not have foreseen what a life changer it would be. I remember writing in my blog in Xela that traveling this time feels different. So I had a hunch. But I had no idea how, where and for what reason my life would change.

Of course my life hasn’t changed all that dramatically. But I have. I’ve learned so much more about myself, about life, about people. And however amazing the countries and places I have been to have been, they do not compare to the people I have had the privilege to get to know.

Last time I updated my blog I was diving in Utila. Since then I have traveled through Honduras, small piece of Guatemala again, and Belize all the way to San Pedro. Since then I have also left Belize, but let’s linger there for a moment.

I decided to couchsurf in San Pedro instead of staying in a hostel. Best decision I have made so far. I stayed with Bruce, awesome and unique American retiree. What’s so awesome about Bruce, you might ask. What is not, will I respond. He is just something different! So much fun, great sense of humor, and a huge hockey fan! He knows so many people on the island, introduced me to bunch of them and I ended up having the time of my life. How many times you get invited to go sailing in the Caribbean with bunch of awesome people? (okay, happened in Egypt, but still. And yes, I know Egypt is not in the Caribbean).

I met a group of girls from Canada doing their teacher practicum in San Pedro. These girls reminded me again that every single day should be the best day of my life. Every day counts, so live it to the fullest. So many laughs, so many good jokes, so many good songs, good times, and of course, night swims. Oh girls, how I miss you!

After five fully lived days in San Pedro I continued my way to Mexico and found myself in Playa del Carmen, again couchsurfing with Xavi, a Mexican guy who lives with friends and animals (two dogs, four cats). After two days in Playa, I hopped in a bus again and ended up in Isla Mujeres.

What can I say? Traveling is my life. Not knowing where I will be tomorrow, or even tonight, is exciting. When people hear that I travel alone, they usually ask me two questions: don’t you get lonely or aren’t you scared? But how could I be lonely when I meet so many new people every day? Or scared: Why would I be? What should I be afraid of here? Even though I do crazy things sometimes, I’m not stupid. And besides, I could get robbed or molested in Finland too. It’s not about where you are, it’s about how you deal with where you are.

My life is right now, at this second; not tomorrow. My dream is to live my life today. And I do.

What do you do?

Scuba Fun in the Caribbean

I open my eyes and see the bluest of all blues around me. I see corals and fish, eagle ray and shrimps. The sea is filled with life.

I’m diving in Utila, one of the Bay Islands of Honduras. Or I was diving. I spent nine days in Utila, enjoying a relaxed and laid-back Caribbean lifestyle with no worries in the world. Even the lack of working internet didn’t bother me. I was able to check my e-mail every now and then, and it was enough.

What can I say about diving? I feel like I’m drugged. The underwater world has bewitched me. I always knew I wanted to be certified as a diver, but never could imagine how it would be like. You always hear people praising diving and telling cool stories and you think it just can’t be that cool. Well you know what: it isn’t. It’s way cooler!

I completed PADI Open Water and Advanced Open Water courses. I’m now certified to dive to 30 meters.

Nine days and 13 dives. I did my deep 30 meter dive on a ship wreck. Absolutely amazing. I got to do a night dive during full moon; even more amazing. The nightlife in the sea is quite different. And as my last dive I was cave diving: can’t really decide which of these was most fun.

But diving is not just about diving. It’s also about meeting new people and making new friends. Divers are very laid-back people, they have very mellow rhythm of life. All divers seem to be getting along great, having fun under the surface and enjoying the night together after diving.

Unfortunately my time in paradise had to end sometime. I’m currently on my way to San Pedro, Belize. I’m spending the night in Omoa, a small Honduran town close to Guatemalan border. I was very happy to notice that after speaking only English in Utila, my Spanish has not disappeared. I was able to have a full conversation with a local guy while having dinner. And I think this town doesn’t see many Western girls traveling alone, since I was greeted with a lot of interest.

Apparently it’s common for older, married men to invite themselves to the same table. Oh well, even though it was little bit uncomfortable to eat my grilled fish when some stranger was staring at me all the time, I managed. The conversation was interesting though, although it took me five times to explain that Finland is not a neighboring country to China.

I have so many great stories that I would love to share with you, but I’m just way too exhausted. Have to hit the bed to be able to continue my travels again tomorrow. Maybe next time.

"The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever."

- Jacques Cousteau

Mayan Ruins and Homicides

Today is my last day in Copán. Also it was my last chance to see the famous Copán Ruins, the biggest Mayan Ruins in Honduras. The ruins are the reason why tourists come here; yet I had not seen them. But today, I decided, I would.

All the people that I’ve talked to about the ruins told me to hire a guide. Sure it’s more expensive, they said, but it's so worth it. The guide will explain the purpose of each statue and building, the culture of Mayans and so on. Otherwise, this one woman said to me this morning, all you do is stare at rocks.

Well, guess what? I’m cheap. The entrance to the ruins alone was 15 dollars. I think that is expensive. So I decided to go about it without a guide. How bad could it be, I thought. There are explanation boards everywhere, I’m sure. So I entered alone, only accompanied by my camera and tons of Macaws.

And I ended up staring at rocks. Cool rocks, for sure, but without explanation they were just rocks.

I had fun though. The pyramids (or temples or whatever) sure are interesting to look at. I was walking close to a tall pyramid-like structure when I saw people up, on top of it. I wanted to get up there too, but I couldn’t see any stairs or path. The structure itself had stairs, of course, it was a pyramid. So I thought, this must be the way up.

I though Mayans were tiny hobbit-people, just like me. But these stairs were made for giants! It was quite a job to get on top. And when I did, I realized there was a fence in front of me – forbidden entrance. On the other side were about 30 elementary school students staring at me with their guide. “Ehhh… Was I not supposed to… climb the sacred stairs to the… holy temple?”

Oh well, I had fun and took loads of pictures. Now I just need to pack, once again, my backpack. Tomorrow it’s Caribbean, baby!

I feel I should tell you more about Honduras, but I don’t know what. My peaceful life in this quiet little town is not exactly a model example of Honduran life. Honduras is actually the lead country in the whole world in homicides: more homicides per capita than any other country. Even Mexico. Human life has no value here. You can get killed for your shoes.

Poverty is an issue here. There are Mayan villages on the mountains where children starve to death every day. People don’t even have clean water. It’s a third world country. And I don’t know how to deal with that. But I met one awesome lady here. Her name is Ellen and she is from the States, but has been living here for few years now. Originally she came to study Spanish for a week, but decided to stay. She went to visit some villages and schools and when she noticed that the students didn’t have books or pens or anything, she bought them books and pens.

When her friends back in the States heard about it, they sent her money to help more. First she repaired a school and then she built one. Now she has her own organization that does humanitarian work in Honduras. They are involved with many projects such as building and repairing schools and medical clinics, helping villages to have clean water etc.

It’s really humbling to meet people like Ellen, who dedicate their lives to helping others. Not all people are meant to live like her, but we should all learn from her.


"We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all."
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Los Perros de Copán

Yesterday it finally struck me. The urge. The urge to photograph. Like I knew it would. I walked around the town, trying to capture the sense of it, the feeling, the inner being. As doing so I came across with a problem. The major part of the true being of this town, are its people, and their homes; The children playing on the streets, moms carrying their babies, old women sitting on side of the road, men in their macho behavioral.

But, doesn’t photographing these people, their children and homes, make me an ignorant tourist, disrespectful of locals and their culture? Of course I can ask permission, but every photographer knows that the minute permission is asked, the picture loses its authenticity. It becomes a pose, a fake picture of a fake moment. But does capturing an authentic moment give me the right to compromise morality of a photographer? I find myself inclined not to compromise.

So, in the midst of these thoughts, I realized that there is a very fascinating part of this town that nobody would mind me photographing. This piece of town is always visible, always present and always interesting. The dogs.

The dogs are everywhere. They come in every color, size and character. Some are timid, some are curious, some are sweet, some are bold. I’m intrigued by their stories, which I am never to find out. But in their eyes I can see they have a story.

My mission for this week is to photograph the dogs of Copán. Hopefully my week will be successful.

There are some other things I would like to share with you about Honduras, but I am not quite sure what and how. This country is so different from many others I’ve been to. It makes me feel at peace but also sad. It’s a culture much different from mine, where possibilities are lacking and future, especially for women, is uncertain.

It’s a country where people very openly claim to be Christians but yet real Christian behavioral is not visible. It’s a country where Christianity for women means submitting to their husbands, which again means being a prisoner in their own house. Mostly married women are not allowed to leave home, they must stay and attend children, house chores and all other needs of their husbands, while men, in their macho way, go running around with mistresses. And a woman without a husband is looked down upon.

It’s Europe couple hundred years ago.

Of course not every person, every family or every place in Honduras is like this. But it is a huge part of the culture, of the country. Once again, it’s about money and education. No education, no possibilities of making it any better.

What did I ever do to deserve to be born in Finland? Had I been born here, I would be just another sad woman, locked in my home with kids and most likely a macho, unfaithful husband. Or I could be a single mother, left by my husband who found a younger girl to play with.

Cynical? I don’t think so. Just come here and see.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

- Jim Elliot

Two weeks of Solitude

I have gotten myself stuck in a calm and peaceful life here in Honduras. And I quite enjoy it. My days pass by quietly, with Spanish lessons in the morning, relaxing and reading in the afternoon. I rarely go out except to buy groceries. I find myself loving the solitude this place grants me. I do not miss the company of others, although I do enjoy the encounters with my lovely neighbor, Ale (the Brazilian).

Ale is the kind of girl that you just can't help but liking. She is sweet to everyone, always so happy and smiling. Plus she cooks great (although only vegetarian) and often invites me to eat.

Since last time I wrote I have found out that in the apartment below mine live two nice girls, Liza from the States and Joelyn (not sure how to spell) from Belgium. They work in café ViaVia, which is the gringo place to go around here.

Yesterday all of us girls went out to have pizza together. We were accompanied by Alejandro, are friend of the girls. We had a nice time and I did enjoy having company for a change. But it frustrates me that I am not yet able to construct complicated sentences in Spanish. I understand almost everything I hear, but talking is annoyingly hard. I don’t have enough vocabulary.

I have long been able to easily manage all daily things with my Spanish. But now I am at the point where those things are not enough anymore. I want to be able to talk about politics, history, health care and what kind of book I was reading last week. I want to be fluent in Spanish. But big news, as easy language as it is, it does not happen overnight.

In my peacefulness I have not succeeded in taking a lot of pictures. For this reason I have not posted them either. I would love to show you what a wonderful little town Copán is, but you will just have to wait until I get my inspiration. And it will come, before I leave. I am sure of it.

My Spanish school has a bookshelf with tons of books in English. I remember many times back in Finland, when I was complaining how I don’t have time to just read books anymore. Well, now I do. I have time to read as many books I want, while relaxing in a hammock, sweet dog next to me, having the warm Honduran sun make me feel like in paradise.

The peacefulness around here has a limit, though. And that limit is ten o’clock in the evening, when I usually go to bed (lame, huh?). That is exactly when all the dogs in the neighborhood start their two-hour barking contest. And after that, around four in the morning, the roosters start their serenade. But I got kind of used to that in Mexico already.

I am not yet sure of my future travel plans, but I am hoping to make it to Utila, one of Hondura’s Caribbean islands known as Bay Islands, to get certified as a diver. Utila is the cheapest place in the world to get certified, plus they have the second biggest coral reef in the world. Wish me luck.

Que tal? Estoy en Honduras!

During my years of travel and work and other stuff I have learned that one of the most important things in life is to stay true to how you really feel. Trust your instincts. Listen to yourself.

Other thing that I have learned is that you should always be flexible to sudden changes in your travel plans. For these two and some other quite heavy reasons I decided not to stay in Guatemala. I know I made the right decision.

So, I just had to decide where to go then. With just a sketch of a map in my notebook, drawn by a friend, and a bag full of good will and hopes I hopped into a bus and took a 12-hour ride to Copán, Honduras. I arrived here last Friday, night o’clock at night. With that sketch, and just a name of a family, I was able to find the most awesome place for me to stay.

This awesome Honduran family, mom, dad and two kids, rent out small apartments. I have my own kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and most importantly; an internet that works. How excited am I! The family lives in the same building, and there’s a Brazilian girl renting the apartment next to mine. And is she sweet or what? I’m already so in love with her.

This area is very calm, which suits me perfectly. A hammock just outside my door is a perfect place to relax and read a book in the warm Honduran weather. Much better than in Xela.

The family also has two full-grown dogs and a puppy. One of the dogs, Oso (bear in Spanish), has become my new best friend. He likes to lie down on the floor next to me when I am reading in the hammock. So sweet.

One thing in Latin America is that there are dogs everywhere. And I so want to adopt them all. Today I saw a dog with no bottom jaw. Can you imagine that? Just a lip hanging low, and a tongue. He looked so miserable I wanted to hug him and take him home. Of course I didn’t.

I started Spanish lessons today in Guacamaya school. My teacher is fantastic, and sweet that she is, already complemented my Spanish. I feel I have learned a lot, and I get by already pretty well. My family here, for example, doesn’t speak English at all. Spanish is the main language also with my awesome Brazilian apartment-roomie.

Anyway, nothing much happened here yet. My stomach is still not so good, and I might have to switch medicine. We’ll see. Well, until next time, sweet dreams.

"Life at anytime can become difficult; life at any time can become easy. It all depends upon how one adjusts oneself to life."

- Unknown

Blastocystys Hominis (TIG)

So, funny story.

I finally went to a clinic today, to Primeros Pasos, which is a non-profit clinic that offers low cost medical service. They have volunteer doctors from the States, so I got service in English. And the service was good! My doctor, Rebecca from Philadelphia, was like so awesome I can’t even describe it.

Anyway. I arrived at the clinic around nine in the morning. I was the only gringo patient there. I saw my doctor, explained my symptoms. They asked me to give them a stool sample. I had expected it. Well, you know what? I’ve been shitting my brains out for the past six days (last time this morning), not being able to eat anything. But when I need to give a sample, do I feel like taking a dump? No!

I found a little shop close by to buy something to eat – thing that usually made my stomach go crazy. There was a young girl there who kindly sold me a chocolate covered doughnut and a small bag of chips. I ate them. Nothing. I went back and bought two more doughnuts (she must have thought I was into sweets or something..). I waited. Half an hour, an hour. Nothing. How ironic! It was like the things inside my stomach knew: if we let her give the sample, they will kill us…

Then my doctor, very kindly, gave me some of her instant coffee. I drank half a cup. And yes! I felt something coming, run to the bathroom. I succeeded! How awesome.

I found Stieg Larssen’s book The girl who played with fire on the shelf, took it and went outside to wait for the results. A minute after my doctor came out and told me… that my sample was not pure (there’s a story there, but I will skip it) and I need to give another one. Nooooooooo!! You can’t do this to me!

Oh well, after two more cups of instant coffee and the feeling of wanting to puke by just the smell of it I succeeded again. I took the book and waited again. I got to page 20. Couldn’t really remember half of what I was reading. My doctor called me in.

And she said: “You have ameba.”

Ameba. I have an ameba?? Where am I, in a third world country?? (You betcha!) Well, parasites are common here. That’s actually probably the most common reason why gringos come to the clinic. But my case, she said, seemed bad. The worst she’s ever seen actually (and she’s seen a lot!). She said that she was surprised I am not dehydrated or in more pain (I have been in pain, trust me).

But the good news is, it’s treatable. Maximum dose for me. At least three days before I even start to feel better. Awesomeness.

Blastocystys Hominis. That’s the little bastard multiplying inside of me. But hey, like they told me about a hundred times at the clinic, TIG. This Is Guatemala.


(Could not find any good quote about ameba)

The thing that happened on Tajumulco

So, I didn’t quite make it to the top of volcano Tajumulco. Soon you’re going to know why. But I have to warn you first: this story is neither nice nor funny (oh well, certain people might find it funny). It’s also a bit gross, so if you’re about to eat, I suggest you postpone reading this. It’s also kind of private, but since I have no problem with making a fool out of myself in public, I will share the story with you.

My story begins Wednesday morning before the sunrise. We are all packed and ready to go; we need to take two separate buses to reach the point where to start hiking. Tajumulco is Central America’s highest peak and is located close to the Mexican border. So, first we took one chicken bus (these are old school busses from USA which are packed tightly with too many people) for an hour to San Marcos, where we enjoyed our breakfast. After that it was another chicken bus for two hours to Tajumulco.

About an hour on the hike I was feeling really bad, and soon after threw up my breakfast. At that point I already realized I would not be climbing to the peak. Feeling disappointed and nauseas, I started the descent. Wasn’t so easy though, I had to stop to throw up and use the bushes for toilet few times.

But that was nothing compared to total of three hours in a chicken bus. Squeezed tightly on the bench, I threw up like three times on the bus. Luckily I had a plastic bag with me, so I didn’t make a mess. When I finally made it to Xela, it was pouring rain. I was carrying 15 kilos on my back and a bag of vomit in my hand. There are no trash bins in Guatemala: everyone just throws the trash on the streets. But I am a Finn and could not even imagine leaving my vomit on the street (okay, I know many Finns will have no problem with that).

The streets were flooding. Because of the high number of trash on the streets and gutters, the sewage system does not work. So after half an hour of rain the city is flooding like crazy. So there I was, walking in the rain, in the flood, trying to figure out a way to get to my hostel before I needed to throw up again. I did not have enough money for taxi, but I took one anyway.

So, I survived. And I heard stomach problems are very common in Guatemala. It’s how they welcome you: bienvenidos a Guatemala, here’s a stomach bug for you!

Today is good Friday, and Semana Santa (the holy week), which means all places are closed. It’s a very big deal around here. All gringos and young people went to San Pedro for weekend to party. I stayed in my hostel, probably the only one, because my stomach does not let me travel yet.

I found a book on the shelf here that I’ve wanted to read for ages: One hundred years of solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Hopefully I can dive into that one during very calm weekend to come.

Between me being sick and feeling bad I haven’t really had time to feel anything else. So I am not quite yet sure how I feel about being here. It’s exciting, for sure, but I find myself missing home quite often. I miss clean and working bathrooms, healthy food, proper heating system… Just about anything. However the scenery here is breathtaking. And I never expected everything to be so easy. I’ve had it easy for a long time on my travels.

In the midst of these thoughts I realize I want to feel like I belong. I want to feel home. But my home is not necessarily a place somewhere. It’s a feeling. I want to find that feeling.

Volcan Santa Maria

Volcano Santa Maria greeted me with majesty and beauty. With 15 kilos on my back I started to ascend this magnificent mountain. I was hiking with twelve other people, a multicultural group including people from Austria, Sweden, USA, Italy, Israel, Spain and South Korea.

Little did I know what a challenge this volcano would turn out to be for me. If before I have claimed Longs Peak to be physically the most challenging thing I have ever done, compared to Santa Maria that mountain is just walking in the park.

No, Santa Maria is something quite different. She makes you want to catch your breath every other step, she makes you wonder why you ever signed up for something this insane. She also randomly hits people with altitude sickness. I’ve never suffered from altitude before. But hey, I’ve never climbed Santa Maria before.

Let me tell you something; altitude sickness is not nice. Almost halfway up the mountain I felt completely fine, keeping my pace. But then suddenly, out of nowhere, it hit me. I felt really dizzy and disoriented. My vision started to blur and I couldn’t even recognize the people around me. All I could see was bright lights and all I could think of was throwing my guts up.

Luckily, Santa Maria decided, that I would pass the test. Altitude sickness slowly went away and I was able to ascend all the way to the top. And oh man was that worth it!

Now you should know something about Santa Maria. She is not just any volcano. She erupted really badly in 1902, destroying a lot of Xela, the Mayan city next to it. Nowadays it erupts every twenty minutes or so, spitting smoke, gas and lava out. But eruptions are minor, so there is no danger (unless you go too close).

Santa Maria is also a sacred mountain to the Mayans and they often go there to pray, sacrifice chickens – and party. We did not see any sacrificing, but we did experience how the local people spend their nights on Santa Maria – singing, shouting, laughing, banging drums. Pretty much doing anything noisy. And if that hadn’t kept us awake the night, the strong thunder storm with hail would have. Lightings were striking right above our heads.

Early in the morning we woke up to see the sunrise and volcano eruption. It was quite something. And of course the two mountain dogs living there, Santa and Maria, accompanied us our whole time there (especially meal times).

The morning luckily revealed something positive about my fitness; I recover fast. Yesterday’s struggles and nausea was long gone and I didn’t feel the hard exercise at all. I was full of energy and happily almost running down the mountain.

Bienvenidos a Guatemala

I’m shivering. The sun has gone hiding behind a cloud, and is soon to be set anyway. I’m wearing a sports sweater and pants, but the coolness of the mountain evening gets to me. I was warned that it would be chilly in Xela, but I had not expected to feel cold.

It is my first night in Quetzaltenango, and second night in Guatemala. I do not know how I feel or what to think. Except cold. I feel cold.

The hostel that I am staying at the moment, Casa Argentina, would make most of my friends turn around at the door. It’s very simple and ascetic, but has a Guatemalan touch; meaning there is no heating or insulation. Since the temperatures tend to drop below zero at night, I am fretting what is to come. I have three blankets in my bed, but I doubt they will be enough.

I’m feeling melancholic enough to almost want to return home. But just almost. However I’m well aware that this time travelling might be very different. I can’t quite get a hold of the feeling, but it makes me restless. I’m hesitating, and I rarely do. Hesitating whether the choices I have made turn out to be okay in my life. It’s a strange feeling, since I’ve never had it before.

I feel a stranger in this country. Which I am, of course. But a stranger in my life too. How to process that feeling, I do not know. Should I embrace it, or fear it? Accept it or get rid of it?

I feel the course of my life might change a lot during these months to come. To where, how, and what is the result, makes me wonder. For the first time in my life I feel somewhat lost at what I really want, or what should happen. It’s a feeling I want to welcome, because it’s a chance to grow and learn. But processing it is difficult.

But now. Time to face the inevitable: the night of Xela.

- - - Next morning - - -

I didn’t die! I didn’t freeze! And I slept well, wearing a fleece and long pants and covered with three blankets.

Fresh mountain air wakes me up immediately and I don’t feel tired like usually in the mornings. My thoughts from yesterday seem to be gone – at least for now. Just taking it one day at a time.

"I remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Kony 2012

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How we react to insane cruelty and crimes against humanity shapes the future. Do we hear their voices? Do we see the invisible children? What we do now defines who we really are.

Kony 2012 video on Youtube has already had over 80 million views worldwide. Brilliantly made video about Joseph Kony, a long-time war criminal from Uganda, who now operates also in South Sudan and other areas. Known for his tactics of abducting children, turning them into sex slaves and child soldiers, Kony has long been free to rape, murder, destroy and terrorize.

There has been a fair amount of criticism about the Kony movement, the video, Jason Russell and Invisible Children Inc. This is to be expected. But what really touches me is the huge support that this movement has gotten during the years, all over the world. It has really changed people and their view of the world, made them act to the point that US government took Kony on their agenda: Barack Obama sent about a hundred special military advisors to Uganda to help and train their military to catch Kony and bring him to justice.

People actually care. People all over the world care about these children, who have had everything taken away from them: their families, their childhood, their humanity. Of course Kony is not the only bad guy doing things like this, but what this movement represents, is hope. Hope for mankind, hope for compassion, hope for a change - because people all over the world demand it.

Jason Russell and his team have great understanding of social media and technology, how to bring people together for a common cause. They believed that if people knew, they would care, and they would act. I have to admit I have lost my hope for mankind from time to time, been overwhelmed by the injustice and cruelty in the world. I have felt like there is no hope. That people don’t care.

Kony 2012 movement has restored my hope. It has opened my eyes. People do care.

As long as we care about the suffering and pain of others, there is hope. As long as our caring makes us act, the world can change. Let’s do the same for Syria – and for other places where crimes against humanity take place.


"Who are you to end a war. I'm here to tell you, who are you not to."
- Jason Russell

Ajatuksia maailman ääriltä

Jännittäviä kokemuksia, uusia ihmissuhteita, näkökyvyn laajentumista, erilaisten kulttuurien kohtaamista.

Nämä ovat asioita, joita ihmiset uskovat kuulevansa minulta kysyessään, mitä olen matkoiltani saanut. Usein tyydynkin tähän vastaukseen: se on helppo, ei vaadi suurempia selittelyjä ja on toki suurinpiirtein totuudenmukainen.

Mutta kysymys, mitä olen saanut, on mielestäni väärä. Haluaisin vastata kysymykseen, mitä olen oppinut tai miten matkani ovat minua muuttaneet. Mutta sisälläni tapahtunut muutos on vielä varsin hienovarainen ja hiljainen. Se tunnustelee vasta sydämeni maaperää, tarttuu siihen hennolla otteella, odottaa jatkoa.

Nöyryys.

Siitä nyt puhun. Kuin kevätaurinko, se alkoi sulattaa sydämeni jäätä. Kuin kesätuuli, se puhalsi pois roskat. Kuin syyssade, se puhdisti sisimpäni mudasta ja loskasta.

Minä, joka luulin ehkä jostain jotain tietäväni, sain oppia, etten oikeasti tiedä mitään. Minä, joka luulin jotain maailmassa nähneeni, sain oppia, etten ole oikeasti nähnyt mitään. Minä, joka luulin elämästä jotain ymmärtäväni, sain oppia, etten ymmärrä mitään.

Nöyryys. Sitä ovat matkani minulle opettaneet.

Olen tavannut rikkaita, köyhiä, lukeneita ja lukutaidottomia, korkeasti koulutettuja ja kouluja käymättömiä, onnettomia ja onnellisia, toisiaan vihaavia ja toisiaan rakastavia ihmisiä. Ja olen tullut siihen lopputulokseen, että nöyryys, joka on ehkä kaikkein aliarvostetuin luonteenpiirre, on tärkein asia, jonka ihminen voi elämässään saavuttaa.

Olen huomannut, että nöyrillä ihmisillä yhteistä on keskinäinen rakkaus, toisten arvostaminen, omien heikkouksien ymmärtäminen ja lempeä anteeksianto. Nöyrät ihmiset ovat usein myös kaikista puutteistaan huolimatta äärimmäisen onnellisia ja tyytyväisiä elämäänsä. He ovat löytäneet jotain, mikä meiltä monilta puuttuu.

Nöyryys. Se on opettanut minulle miten ylpeä, vihainen, epäoikeudenmukainen ja omaa etua tavoitteleva oikeasti olen. Se on opettanut, miten vähäpätöisiä omat ponnisteluni ja viisauden tavoitteluni tässä maailmassa ovat. Se on opettanut, että eivät tiedon määrä, opintojen pituus, urallinen menestys, parisuhteet tai rikkaudet määritä millainen ihminen olen, vaan se, miten kohtaan ja kohtelen toisia ihmisiä.

Usein nöyrät ihmiset ovat joutuneet kokemaan suuria epäonnistumisia, ahdinkoja, kipuja ja taisteluja elämässään. Suurissa tuskissa opitaan suurimmat viisaudet.


"To be humble to superiors is duty, to equals courtesy, to inferiors nobleness."
- Benjamin Franklin