Saturday, December 19, 2015

The only certainty is change

This month, December 2015, it is three years ago that Roberto and me started our journey, after we fell in love - a little more than four years ago - on the blue Ecuadorian ocean shore. Our encounter was not only love on first sight, but a cross-pollination that changed our lives forever, fortifying our longing to lead a different life than what most modern societies demand. 

The result was a travel and life experiment we baptised 'navigate on trust;' meaning trusting in life and ourselves, let the present moment be our guide, while using our hearts as our compass. We had no big savings and no particular destination in mind - only the intention and desire to be together, connect and share with people, and encounter new ideas and insights. It meant detaching to physical and material things as much as possible, and embrace uncertainty to the fullest - giving up our attachment to specific results and destinations and let life handle the details. But, it also meant living the years like it were our last, enjoying our love, life, and nature, even when we didn’t know the outcome. 

That the outcome would be this - Roberto's death on December 6 - and we would separate our physical existence together is, the least to say, the ultimate super challenge of that philosophy. I hope that that same philosophy will fill the hole in my heart, give me the strength to keep going, and lead me safely into the future without my great great love and life teacher on my side. 

I will continue 'navigate on trust' and try to understand, investigate, and live it even more profound and dedicate all the good that it will bring to him.

My love: nothing lasts forever, except for love, and especially ours. I know we are together always.

- Fenja

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Featured on NEST MAG

We have been out of the the air for more reasons we like to admit (some of which we will share on the blog in the time to come), but luckily the lovely online magazine NEST MAG did a nice story about Navigate on Trust on their website. Personally we like the piece a lot, and think it explains a bit more about the philosophy behind out journey.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Summer in Southern Uruguay

The summer was warm and long. Computers and technology were forgotten and life wheeled around what seemed to be the real important things of existence: the ocean, surf, food, dogs and cats, and of course each other.

From the moment we arrived, Uruguay paved the road for a very smooth ride. The people embraced us like a warm blanket, making life too easy to wonder, let alone worry about it all.

Like so many foreigners around here, in the midst of seemingly nothing peculiar, we got trapped by an unexpected feeling of happiness. What are these places along the coast? 

Small, not much happens, and no world wonders. Good waves, yes. 

Maybe it is the Uruguayan coast, or just Uruguay in general. You find yourself going to a place, just for a few days, and weeks later you find yourself still not wanting to think about when to move on…next week…maybe. 

And so the Southern Uruguayan summer months ran by, living the good life, and re-living the Uruguayan slow life, as our navigating journey began here in Uruguay during the South American summer of 2012. More good friends were made, more food was digested, and return invitations happily accepted.

But plans or no plans, sometimes it is just time to go. Only if it would be to renew that passport stamp and stay for another month or so, or to start another great adventure in a unknown country ahead. 

And so we find ourselves again amazed by the mystery of simple joyful living, but this time making one thing sure: our farewell is just for now. We are leaving El Verde behind, safely stored on Uruguayan ground, performing as the perfect excuse to be back again soon.

We'll see where other vehicles will take us for a while, and pick him up again in a month or so, or the next summer. Who knows... 

Summer season at La Pedrera

Roberto and German friend Sven digging water ways for the tires

The Swell kicking in Punta del Diablo

Meeting travelers on the way 
Surfers waiting for the set

Faina who blends in well with the Uruguayan landscape

 Mauri in the water

View of La Viuda

Roberto waiting for the full moon

Mari and Mauri: a creative cooking couple, two beautiful people, and, our campground hosts for most of the summer.

Santa Tereza National Park

Mari and Mauri in Santa Tereza

 House at Rivero, Punta del Diablo

 Pesqueros, Punta del Diablo

 Brazilian friend Thais with one of the many summer dogs

Roberto and Semilla on the lookout

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Slow travel, an ode to El Verde

The Van Life is one that awakes the spirits - away from screens, to do's, to attends, and appearances, to something that feels more like the true reality and profound. El Verde's small space undressed us from excessive possessions, and his modest 80 km per hour top speed, and the 150 kilometres day driving limit we have given ourselves, not only forces us to move slow, but is also slowly shifting our perspectives: the realisation of having more by having less, carefully moving through a real-life slowmotion opening up to every detail of the here and now. 

Of course, sometimes I also feel bad about travelling in a car, using gasoline that does harm to the environment, and in my dreams I already have turned El Verde many times into a hybrid car internally solar supported, but - unfortunately - it is not the time for that, yet. 

And we've got to do what we've got to do, so we cruise along, and I know will repay the damage somehow. The last weeks we have been on some amazing places, parking just in the middle of nowhere or somewhere, getting deeper connected to culture, nature, and a true slow life. 

Because after being on the road again, I remember what it was that I was longing for (and maybe what we are all longing for in life): a simple life, a life outside in nature, a life free in movement, a slow life. Something that comes with having a house on wheels. 

Mae West once said "everything worth doing is worth doing slowly," and I am starting to grasp the meaning of it. And all that thanks to our beautiful Verde.

Monday, June 30, 2014

Ecuador, nos acurrucamos

During my last week in Ecuador I learned a crazy sounding, unpronounceable, but very beautiful, new word that exactly described my relationship with Ecuador - the country where I lived in, and travelled through during the last 12 months. ACURRUCARSE. Acurrucarse literally means to snuggle up to, to crack a bottle, and even has a relationship with the Swiss-German word for flew - gruppy - so meaning to get caught by it.

We started our travel in South America without set plan almost 2 years ago. No plan, but we had one thought: that we wouldn´t go back to Ecuador. Roberto and I met each other during my holiday in Ecuador a few years ago, he lived there for a very long time, and I went back to visit him there quit soon after I met him the first time, so we thought we´d seen it all. 

But, somehow our road let us again to the small country of immense diversity... And although we went back, our thought never was to stay for a long time. But "nos accurucamos." We snuggled up, we cracked its bottle and we got caught by it. To my believe we experienced Ecuador in any possible way: we travelled its roads, we met its wide variety of people, we saw the good and the bad, we received what she had to offer, and she took what she wanted from us. 

We are leaving after a year of snuggling, with many memories, things, and many, many new life experiences to go. From El Verde (our green Volkswagen), surf, new gained skills, friends and family, and a travel program, to first hand experiences of South-America's famous corruption, disappointments, dishonesties, and disillusions – an indivisible union to really, truly, know her, and a reflection of life´s inseperable polarity and rhythm. All together it brought us a bit further to where we wanted to go: to freedom and happiness. So acurrucarse is exactly what we did, and for which I am grateful… I´ll miss it, and not. And I hope to see her next time.