Cost/day (for a family of five):
Strangest thing we’ve seen lately:
Before his wish to die, but well after 40 degree fever and horrifying nightmares, the kindly villagers performed ritual healing ceremonies on my husband Kobi. They picked two of this leaf, four of that one, this root, that berry and cooked them over a banana-leaf-sealed open-fired vat. Then, with ritual prayer chanting, candles, and incense burning, he was stuffed under a dozen thick blankets to breath the steam, drank a cup o it, and bathed in the waters. Their love and earnest determination to cure him were touching. Two days later, he was hospitalized.
A typical Amazonian Paradise day:
Jungle village life was ever-changing and yet so much the same. Each day, availed new opportunities like that expedition to cut down this 150-year old tree for a canoe, like that time the village kids climbed like monkeys to gather fruits from four-stories high trees, and like the day we (unsuccessfully) begged the kids to return from their weekend in a neighboring Quichway village. And yet, everyday, we sat in that river, washing our clothing and our souls, day after day, for the village was the first time in our lives, we allowed ourselves to be unproductive, to do nothing, all day, every day. A typical day of no tourists, no internet, no computers, phones, gadgets, or attractions began by sending the kids to the Indian school, and progressed into meandering in the village kitchen and food hall, the river, and the grounds. Once Kobi was hospitalized, our days were peppered with drives back and forth to the nearest town.
Fascinating conversation with a local:
I met one local with whom I could discuss Ecuador’s hysterical deforestation situation with. As you’ll see and hear in the Intoxicating Their Own Rivers video, the locals use, rob, abuse, and intoxicate the land for everything she’s got not because they don’t care, but because they need what she has to give their tribe now.
What we love and hate about village life:
We do not enjoy-
A challenge we faced:
Letting go of our need to be productive and to constantly work on and offline was very challenging. When you become addicted to online social media and the internet, stopping cold turkey is tough. The pace of village life, the lack of connectivity options, the seclusion in the jungles, the kids being so immersed and involved in village community life, and Kobi getting sick all pushed us towards an unplugged six-week spiritual retreat.
What I learned:
I learned two powerful lessons, lessons I seem to have to re-learn again and again.
1- I learned that no matter how much I swear with great determination not to fall in love this time, it doesn’t work. I’ve learned that bits of my heart will remain scattered in this river and that hallway forever. I’ve learned that no matter how determined I am not to leave, broken-hearted, that the joy of dancing upon this globe is lined with the pain of leaving what you love behind. I articulate (and sing) it sweetly in Describing What My Soul Cannot Yet Contain.
2- I learned that the world will go on, peacefully, productively, and joyfully, without me. I learned that turning off my plugged-in addictions turned on silent reflections and spiritual growth that I could have never imagined possible. This video, I’m Sorry, reflects the heart-felt understanding of what it means to disappear and what the soul can learn while busy in just being.
From the jungles of Ecuador, we proceeded to Banos (ironically named ‘bathroom’ in Spanish) to amazing waterfalls and vistas, and on to camping and surfing off the beaches of Huanchaco, Peru.
Gabi Klaf and her family, currently in their third year of non-stop rtw life on the road, are currently reporting from Malaysia at www.TheNomadicFamily.com