Solidarity project against child poverty

Ecuador /


Another fictitious line, separate me Colombia from Ecuador, this country that divide the world, a country full of contrast, and many pleat on the earth clothes, the same that makes journeys sometimes very difficult, but also makes everything to let your own prints.

The way to this high and wonderful country was full of lovely moments, wonderful encounters and of course rain decided to come with me all the way long, it did defeating my courage, but my inside  rebelliousness gives me this freedom that I have and at the same times helps me to go beyond  difficult circumstances.



Those rocks that have seen walking the guerrilla on those lands, the same rocks that today are used through a huge oil pipe send the precious “black gold”, this oil that in its way through lovely landscapes pollute so many rivers, the same tracks that have been the mattress of many of my lonely nights, the same ones that lead me to the lovely places, and also the same ones that sometimes make me take some difficult decisions that many times we wouldn´t.

Rain never stop, it try again to beat me, but the only thing it can do, beside some ugly word spited from my mouth, it´s making me understand that the real discovering journey it´s to have always new eyes to see it, there’s no paradises because this world it´s full of new roads, mountains, jungles, oceans… and all this people that you pass by, those people that loves you, the same ones that makes you be somebody thirsty of freedom, of peace.

Be sure, at the end of the day we all going to be in front of our lived memories, that aren´t anything else that tracks full of questions.



I’ve crossed those fictitious line that always hated, and that without any doubt I would erase all if I could, but who I am to go against the oligarchy that divided the earth in peaces before plunder it?

I´ve better close my eyes and forget, but surprisingly I cannot, while I was stamping my passport, in this place the song of Camilo´s Sesto,”Algo de Mi “(Something of me), was playing loud, I never like it, but this time I have to admit that the lyrics,”algo de mi se esta muriendo” (something of me it´s dying), brought me thousands of images, thousands of smiles, thousands of kisses, thousands of kids that one day hugged me, and today I am not even able to know if they could get out of their own hell.



Through the humid roads of the Putumayean jungle I have traveled with my sanity and my craziness in the same saddleback, Halima´s left it´s prints in the mud of this land that cries constantly, meanwhile a solitaire palm tree climbs and climbs, like me gasping while I am waiting the crepuscule of this grey sky…

I am already in Ecuador, this wonderful country, full of snowed volcanoes, full of high mountains farmed like a giant patch-work.

I´ve headed towards the high Virgin pass, at more than 4000 ms high, there If I am lucky I will see the majestic Antisana volcano, for me the most beautiful mountain in Ecuador, and also the only place in this country where you can see the rare and unprotected condor, in its free fly staring from the altitude one crazy world full of injustices.

But NO! This time I wasn´t lucky, I couldn´t see it, It´s been longtime that I am cycling with the rain, and now through the mountains I do it with a thick fog that wraps me with its veil, the cold cut my wings and with a background full of mist and snow I walk my frozen skeleton without having the chance to see further than my own nose, frozen winds become sad voices, as sad of those nights without the moon or the stars.



Dark thoughts, another fictitious line, another border, another country, another stamp in my passport, another number, nothing of this stopping me to see these lights on the sky shouting that my life continue, the solitude it´s my friend, and the freedom it´s my way.sudently a never ending down hill bolt me down to the deepest place in the earth.

Down there, another world! Sun shiny, the blue sky break your retina, the big city of Quito, grows and grows towards the sky, I’ve arrived to Tumbaco town.

There, Santiago´s Lara, host cyclists people since 20 years ago, this place Isn´t a house, it’s the world seen through the eyes of all those travelers that we pass here, and we share evenings talking of everything and nothing, days are cool, and dreams are a big colorful garden, and nothing of this could be possible without the immense gratitude of Santiago´s and family another of those people that doesn´t need words to express the high kindness.

I am looking back, and I can see my wet shadow up on the passes, I can smell the last smiles, and I am feeling happy receiving messages of love from the girls of Lots of Hands Orphanage, again I can feel that I am Nando´s again.



Another fictitious line, and even sometimes I get tired of myself, and I am thinking that I haven’t enough strength to keep going, I know that one day in the other side of the life, I will meet you again, I will recognize you looks, meanwhile I will try to find the value to keep suffering, because as Gandhi said ones “There It´s no way for the peace, peace it´s the way”

On the other side of this line, it´s waiting a new experience for me, I have decide to share for a while my days and my nights with Marie´s and Johan’s, a Swiss, that travels from Alaska to Ushuaia trying to see a better world, It will be difficult for me, and the memories of my loved Kenny will come back, again I will share the night stars, this time I will with words.

While in my dreams and my wishes I will create my own universe, I will keep passing sad imaginary lines with the wish to complete this beauty, and keep helping even though sometimes people tells me that I am going towards the wrong way.

But as Camilo Sesto´s say in his song“Something of me is dying, I want to live, I want to live and knowing why you go…”

Another country… life goes, the way it´s there, and I will keep helping even if the fog doesn´t allows me to see…



Share Gambada: Whatsapp