An attempt to fix my broken heart

Prologue
The last days of my South European trip were awful. After touring Spain and Portugal for a month with friends I was supposed to go to spend eight days in Italy with my boyfriend before continuing on to the US. Two days before my flight he told that he had fallen in love with someone else and no longer wanted to see me. I was in a shock - I cried, I got drunk, I stopped caring about anything. Right after flying to Milan I met him for an emotional conclusion talk and signed into a hotel. I was in the city all alone, heart broken and without a plan.

Day 1
I decide it is time to start getting my shit back together. I remember a friend telling me about hiking at the Dolomites. Thinking that being surrounded by beautiful nature would help me to heal, I google train connections, accommodation options and trekking trails.

At Milan Central Station I miss my intended train by five minutes. The next one gets late to its destination and I see the back of my connection train speeding away. I have a two hour wait before the day's last train to Belluno. I sit down on the platform - it is getting dark, I am covered in dried sweat and sleep deprivation is giving me a headache.

Somehow I get an idea to write a journal about my experience. I want to write about what will happen on this totally unplanned trip and how my feelings will alter during it. As I eat cold pizza leftovers, I feel hurt down to my spine. I still do not fully realize that I will never hear of him again. Small hope remains in my heart, wishing that he would change his mind and return to me. I keep checking my phone. Its newest stuff is still from him - call records and text messages - but now it stays silent.

I arrive at my hotel at midnight, after snoozing in the train and carrying my super heavy backpack through the empty town.

Day 2
I get up, organize my gear and go downstairs for breakfast. The friendly hotel staff has promised to store my excess luggage during the journey. With my hiking backpack I walk to a book store to buy some maps. Then I sit down at a terrace to examine them, and feel that I am finally setting forth...

After taking a local bus to Bolzano of South Dolomites I began hiking up to Rifugio 7* Alpini, up to where the altitude gain is close to 1000 meters. At half way I hit heavy rain, which slows me down. As I keep walking up the slippery, winding paths, a small thought sneaks into my head - "Who exactly said Italian refugios sell food? Maybe I should have brought some with me, just in case..." Eventually I reach the refugio. I hang up my soaked clothes, take a warm shower and order dinner. As I am comfortably eating my spaghetti bolognese, three wet hikers walk in. I immediately notice their climbing helmets, so when they later join me around the dining table I open up a discussion. They come from north and speak German.

When it gets dark I pitch my tent at the most beautiful spot. The surrounding majestic mountains are lighted by a full moon. I have a feeling that I have come to the right place.

Day 3
I wake up at four. Within seconds I remember that he has left me and a sharp physical pain hits my chest. This happens several times each night, making sleeping the most difficult time. Furthermore, the lack of rest brings my mood further down.

At breakfast I meet the German speakers again. They introduce themselves as Erika, Claudia and Gabo. They invite me to join them for a via ferrata day trip. Having never done via ferratas before I hesitate for some minutes before accepting. Already years ago I have concluded that most memorable things happen when saying yes to spontaneous proposals, so I try to live up to that.

Gabo, who turns out to be a complete gentleman, loans me his harness and via ferrata set. I am given a quick introduction to the proper use of the two flexible slings, and then we go! Our trip includes three via ferratas (Zacchi, Berti & Marmol) and takes us as high as 2562m on Monte Schiara. The going consists of normal trails alongside mountains, as well as more dangerous parts secured with bolted bars and lines. It is like a combination of hiking and climbing, which I enjoy very much!

During the day I see breathtaking scenery, cross sections that make me not look down and get to know my new friends. At post-hike beers they note that I completed my first via ferrata with good precision and poise. That makes me laugh - "Me and calm in a same sentence, never heard before! If they just knew that in reality I am afraid of even indoor lead climbing..."

Since my preliminary plan to follow the Alte Via Uno route fails due to lack of accessibility, I gladly join the gang for the rest of the weekend. We hurry down to the parking lot and drive a few hours to Erika's home near Brunnick at North Dolomites. In her big, alpine style house she prepares me a cosy bed in my own guest room. I keep wondering the friendliness and hospitality these people are showing to me, a stranger with poor German skills.

Day 4
In the morning I can barely stand up. The previous days hikes have smashed my leg muscles. Since Claudia promises that we will go just for a slow half-day walk, I decide to tag along.

The target mountain is a short drive away. Already when we approach it, of course by foot instead of ski lifts, my legs ache at every step. I decide to make this hike a symbolic battle: If I have the needed endurance and willpower to reach the top, I am also mentally strong enough to survive any challenges. At that point I do not know that the elevation gain will be some 1700m.

The power ladies keep on going at steady speed, while I drag behind with Gabo, who carries my stuff and provides me with water and snack bars. Most of the hike is uphill on loose stones, with a few occasional scramble climbs. I keep pushing myself, hoping for nothing but rest. When we reach the end of the lower loop, I am given an option to wait there while the others go around another loop at the mountain peaks. No way I stay!

After what feels like an eternity, we reach a top (Heiligkreuzkofel at 2907m). There's a high cross with ribbons there, under which we have some tea and bread. I feel so satisfied with myself until Claudia announces that we should continue on for the higher top - "What, another top!? Is it that one up there? I cannot make it!!" However, I keep on walking. I feel frustrated and self-pitying, and a devastating thought enters my mind - "No matter what mountains I climb, he will never love me again."

The final top (Zehnerspitze at 3026m) is a ten meter high boulder, which seems like a safe climb even without securing. I want to go there to complete both the physical hike and the mental battle. But as I am about to start climbing, it begins to rain and a large group of people start their descent down. By the time I could climb, the boulder is too wet for my slippery shoes. I feel exhausted, cold, disappointed and sad, so I begin to cry. Gabo and Claudia hug me tight, while Erika pours me a schnap.

Despite my request to wait for the boulder to dry, we start walking down. I contemplate with my topping failure. After all, I had given the hike my very best and it was external conditions that prevented me from succeeding. I believe that can be also applied to life in general: As long as you can say you could not have done any more, you should be proud of yourself, no matter what the final outcome is.

By the time we reach the car it is pouring raining and we are soaked. At Erika's house we make a fire and sit in the kitchen all night eating pasta and drinking beer. The evening is filled with interesting conversations and lots of laughter. I am positively surprised at my ability to understand and speak German.

Day 5
For the first time I sleep well, more precisely around the clock. The others have woken up early for a glacier tour, while I use the lack of proper mountain boots as a valid excuse to have a rest day.

I am a bit concerned about being alone and doing nothing, but Erika's house is a delightful place to peacefully sit on the terrace relaxing. I do some conscious thinking. Even though I still miss him, I realize that even if he changed his mind I could not take him back. A relationship with no trust and respect would be dreadful. From now on, I can no longer believe that anyone would really love me. Instead of looking for a serious partner, I will get to know men only to learn about different life views and personalities, and to have fun.

The others return in time for dinner. I have a chat with Claudia while washing dishes. When I complain about having lost not only a boyfriend but also the dream of a family, she questions me even having wanted that. She asks whether I would be happy just taking care of a household and raising children. That is actually what I have thought, too. Maybe getting a family has always been an unquestioned default dream for me, and lately I have began to want it so badly just because it is unreachable. Maybe in reality traveling around, falling in love with different men and experiencing a great variety of things is more suitable for me.

After eating it is time to say goodbye to Claudia and Gabo, who return to their homes.

Day 6
At breakfast table me and Erika study maps and talk about life. She tells that her husband, with whom she had been together for some twenty years, died five months ago. Yet still she laughs brightly, buzzes around with errands and shows true empathy towards others. She explains that despite being sad, she is not alone for she has friends and her sorrow shrinks every time she is up at the mountains. I feel so moved and inspired by her attitude that I cannot find any German words for response. I have found such a good benchmark person.

Erika drives me to a campground in Cortina and gives me a bag of fruits for lunch. I walk around the camping fields and feel slightly disappointed. The place is full of caravans and huge tents, all next to each other. I decide to forget about quiet nature and pitch my tent next to a river.

I go for a relaxed hike, whose main destination is a refugio. Its gourmet restaurant is accessible by car, and I look at wealthy pensioners strolling in, wearing hiking boots with Burberry jackets and Luis Vuitton handbags. In the afternoon I walk around downtown, looking at shops and cafés. Italians truly are good looking and dress so well!

Day 7
I wake up to the sound of rain on my tent. Secretly happy for no longer having to hike, I reach for my book and make myself comfortable.

Later in the afternoon I take a bus back to Belluno, where I head to my hotel. After hanging my tent to dry, I go out to find a cafe with wifi. While posting photos on Facebook, I realize what a success my Dolomites journey has been! I have done my first via ferrata, met compassionate people and seen tons of incredibly beautiful mountains.

I decide to enjoy some Italian cuisine at last. While sipping my aperative drink, I finally pay some thought to my longer term future. After having quit my job in June, I have felt mostly stressed and buzzled about the open future. Now for the first time I get excited. After returning from the US I can start searching for motivating jobs, and now that I am no longer tied to a hope of a relationship I can consider the whole world as my job market - "Dear adventures, bring it on! I am ready to go where ever you take me!"

Who ever claims Italians are rude, should reconsider. To top up all the politeness Italians have shown me at numerous occasions, I get an invitation from a group of three pensioners to join them for dessert wines. Despite missing a sound common language we discuss about politics, cultures and travels.

Day 8 & Day 9
On my last day in Italy I return to Milan. The arrival train journey goes smoothly and I check into my hostel in the afternoon. I go out in search of pizza and gelato, before having an early night to sleep.

The next morning I wake up early to take a bus to the airport. I haven't slept well due to the excitement about traveling to the US. I look forward to seeing my family and friends, training for a bike tour, camping, shopping... When I enter the airplane the flight attendant smilingly comments that I look extra cheerful. I guess that can be interpreted as a sign that I will be alright.

Unbeaten stress

Future. Unforeseeable. Suffocating. Yet a bit exciting.

For me, the past months were comfortable and pleasant. There were no great challenges but enjoyably steady happiness, which I felt I had deserved. Then the changes came. I did not initiate them, nor welcome them. Anyhow, under given circumstances they give me power to make choices that may change my future, possibly big.

I was lifted up from the safe ground and now I am hanging in the air, waiting to drop somewhere. How much control and wisdom do I have to steer myself away from drowning water or sharp rocks, towards something bright, inspiring and loving?

I am not mentally present when I talk to my friends. I am not pushing to my limits at sports training. I am not resting when I am asleep. That damn future is preventing me from living in the present. I have given up to stress coming along with worst case scenarios about future. What if, either by choice or coincidence, I will suffer? I am so tired of thinking, yet unable to stop it.

I predict that when I drop and hit the ground, I will first have to climb over mountains without seeing what is behind them and swim across an ocean without knowing where it ends. Yet then, I will reach a special beautiful island, which will make the difficult trip worthwhile.

Things possessing true value must be achieved through hard work, dedication and belief. When following my path towards success and love, I must be prepared to take risks and make exclusive choices, living on them without regret. But what is THE path? Is it destined by some higher power and made accessible to those who dare to try? Or do we entirely by ourselves make our paths, shaped just by pure luck?

Now I am still in the air. I can see clearly down from where I was lifted up, and I can try to get a glance of where I might drop to. But what is up here, at this moment? It is fear, anxiety and tiredness. It could be positivity, sense of adventure and ambition. I could trust that the turbulence of the drop will land me right on my path, either easy or difficult. Preferably a long step further than where I am now.

I am at the edge of changing my life. Unlike usually, I am unable to psych myself away from change resistance. But then again, I claim that for me life is about experiencing different feelings. Stress is one of them, so I let it be. For now.

Subjective achievements

I study the next few holds and move up, following their pattern. I clip. All my concentration is on the wall. Without over-trying I find the right moves and progressing on the route feels effortless. I clip again. My movements are naturally adjusting to the differently shaped holds arranged to form a sequence leading up. I clip the top anchor. As I am being lowered down I have a huge grin on my face; I have just climbed cleanly a route I had previously considered way too difficult and exhausting!

My belayer gives me a high five. He could climb the same route eyes closed but he knows it is an accomplishment for me. That is what I like about the climbing society - even the best climbers are cheering on everyone, training hard but willing to have nice chats and good laughs. Even though I am the worst climber amongst my group I am never looked down at, just sometimes encouraged to work a bit harder to reach my potential.

Since I began climbing I have been terrified at lead falls. I have quit numerous routes because of being too scared, rather than being too unskilled. That has made me feel disappointed and frustrated - I could accept reaching my physical limits but being mentally weak makes me angry at myself; since it is simply just a matter of deciding to be braver I should be able to do it. I can logically conclude that falling on inside gym routes is safe. Besides, it would be cool to be one of those climbers who keep on trying until they cannot hold on but take whatever fall it brings along. I hate giving up without trying my best!

This inner battle has never been won by being pushed by fellow climbers. But this year I made a (Facebook published) New Years resolution to lead climb properly. I have taken fall practices into my schedule; I annoy my trusted belayers by jumping down tens of times from a single route, to test falling from different heights and to get the feeling that it is ok. It is helping me and I am feeling a lot more secure and confident when lead climbing.

However, the most important lesson is that I must WANT to do something. When I am in the middle of a scary route, debating with myself whether to give up or continue, I tell myself "This is what I want to do". Sometimes I still give up to the fear but more often I keep on going. The motivation is coming from inside myself, not from outside.

There is a hold on the upper right direction. It looks like a handle so I could try to make a dyno up there. My leg slips and I fall. I swing and drop a few meters. I have taken my first accidental lead fall when going for a difficult move. No matter if no one else understands my joy - I have done something I have aimed for since I began climbing! I have had the courage to try until I fall!

Could this be applied to life in general? Could we stop comparing ourselves to others but be happy when we achieve something significant just to ourselves?

My first climbing competition

No title (vol2)

I began seeing a man. From the very beginning on I knew I would loose him but I still went for it. It had been some years since I had felt that strongly for anyone; with him I laughed at silliest little things, walked aimlessly in forests, woke up during nights to give hugs... Even though we spent lots of time together I was always looking forward to seeing him again. His every message made me smile. Then I lost him. Now that the loss is reality, not just some to-come day, do I still think I made a wise choice deciding to see this till the inevitable end?

Based on past similar experiences, I presumed I would be miserable; seeing joy at nothing, believing at no further romances and acting very martyr-like. Yes, I am crying even when writing this text, but I am not desperate. By acknowledging this feeling of sadness, rather than trying to deny it, I kind of accept it. Life is composed of both happiness and sorrow, which makes it interesting. Whilst in contrary, not daring to be exposed to any feelings makes life dull.

It is often perceived that only long-lasting relationships are valuable. I disagree. If I am happy with someone at this very precise moment, without knowing how many more moments I will spend with him, does it make this one less happy? I doubt so, but it might make me appreciate this specific moment even more because I am not anticipating any future moments with him (with more beautiful surroundings, more time, more made promises) but this might be the best one. I am forced to live in the present because future may not come.

At first thought it seems logical that in order to love you must be loved in return - exclusively by the same person you love. But whether he loves me or not, deep in down it does not change my immediate feelings for him. Nevertheless I am capable of loving, and the feeling itself is more important than its target or outcome. At the end, when he no longer loves me, I still have my beautiful memories that he or no one else can take away. Right now those memories are still fresh in my mind, partly painful because they are already past but mostly enjoyable because they happened.

It always seems that when I get sad about something, the universe starts sending reminders of other good things. It forces me to see the beauty, kindness and success still surrounding me. It can be a polite gentleman picking up my lost scarf at the airport, seeing a sunrise with all colors through a bus window, randomly finding a new touching song... I still do not know if those things really increase in frequency or if I am more receptive to noticing them. Anyways they draw me from wasting my precious days in this world without noticing all the good in it.

Why cannot I be happy because I got exactly what I wanted? Why must I sit here, crying and writing about positive sides about sadness? When is it time for me to be able to count to be loved in return?

Birdie

A few months ago I got a tattoo. It is a small humming bird with beautiful colors and graceful position. She comes from a mysterious secret garden, and on my shoulder she reminds me of what I have discovered about life so far.

For years I had thought that I will get a tattoo when I come up with something lastingly meaningful. But no single symbol appeared. Until a year and half ago I was touring the US. During the previous winter I had faced some disappointments and spent lots of time alone, just thinking about reasons for happiness. At the beaches of Hawaii and on the deserts of Arizona I realized I was often smiling by myself; being surrounded by people who are important to me, learning new exciting skills, seeing stunning nature, doing plainly fun things. I realized that no single event or person is worth of loosing my curiosity for what all is out there. I realized that as long as I am following my own path, no matter how narrow or curvy it is, deep inside I am happy.

As I am not an artist I needed to find a ready picture to store my thoughts. I have always liked birds because of their appearance, so I flipped through a website of thematic tattoos. This one bird caught my eye and I kept thinking about it until I returned from Uganda. Then I marched into a tattoo shop with a picture on my hand and made an appointment. Birdie turned out beautiful and I grew to like her as I was taking care of her during the healing process.

Since my US tour I have been yet learning more. I still totally agree to what I realized there, and on top of that I am continuously collecting awakening experiences and increasing consciousness. Right now I am trying to learn to accept circumstances and incidents as they come, as meaningful cyclical ups and downs, rather than as random (un)luckiness. Instead of demanding certain things from life I should openly face what it brings along; see the joy in good and identify the teaching in bad, no matter whether or not it fits to my plans and dreams.

Instead of symbolizing one static thing, my birdie is accumulating insight and attitude. She does not forget the learnings of past, but still she stays capable of absorbing new ideas and changing mind when needed. I do not see her all the time, but when I look at her through a mirror I feel comfort as I remember everything she stands for.

Birdie being a tourist in Spain

No title (vol1)

(I admit, I officially ended this blog. But I miss writing in order to clarify and document my thoughts so in all quietness I guess I can write just a few more posts without anyone noticing. I promise to keep them somehow Uganda related.)

Now that I have been back home for a few months I have been asked tens of times about my experiences in Uganda. I have developed a set of standard answers to summarize how it is like living in one of the world's poorest countries, and what I have learned there.

Often people want to know if the inhabitants of Uganda are truly miserable. Sure they are doing badly when they must fetch drinking water from far away muddy streams, pollute their home indoor air by cooking over traditional fires and constantly worry about getting enough income for tomorrow's food. Most of them live without matters to improve their lives.

My favorite kid at HCF was Noel, a 10-year-old beautiful and talented girl. She picked up everything I taught at once and danced with natural grace and sense of rhythm. In a western country she could become a doctor, a super model, anything she wanted. But in Uganda she was stressed about not being able to go to secondary school. Many times we walked hand-in-hand across the school yard and I listened to her concerns, thinking that instead of worrying about education that kid should be playing with her friends. All I could do was hug her and assure that everything would be fine, without believing it myself. Unless Uganda raises from poverty, it will not be fine for Noel and many of the other children out there. They do not have the world's opportunities in front of them.

But those poor Ugandans are not exposed to the dilemma of having the whole world open for them. Unlike many western people, they do not constantly question whether they have chosen the right profession or partner, they do not regret past failures, and most importantly they do not stress about future, namely making right choices. Unlike me, they need not constantly ask themselves; Am I making the most out of my life at every passing moment? Am I fully utilizing my opportunities to do whatever I desire to do?

During my last month in Uganda, every morning I took a boda from our house to the office. I walked down a short hill and was greeted with the usual crowd of boda drivers, who were sitting on their motorcycles, laughing and joking. Some of them could sit there all day without getting any customers, thus no income, but still not frustrated about wasting their time trying. In the evening, they would be happy to have spent time in good company and go buy a chapatti and a beer, feeling satisfied. If, and hopefully, when Uganda raises from poverty, its inhabitants do not loose the ability to enjoy what they have, no matter how little or short-lasting it is. Hopefully they do not start over-questioning, is this the best I can have or should I change everything to have even more?

Some people who know me well say that I seem more at-peace now than before. They say that they are happy to see me smiling at ordinary seeming things. I think that is because I feel less anxious about future now. I have returned to exactly what I left behind - the self-repeating, predictable life I feared would kill my curiosity - but I no longer feel the urgent need to change it. I trust that life will take me where I belong to go to, with whom I belong to be with, doing what I belong to be doing at each time.

Final conclusions

I did not think this moment would come. I am back in Helsinki. It is a brisk, dark autumn night. I am sitting on my couch under a blanket, drinking red wine, burning candles and listening to one my of favorite bands (pic1). I feel like I have returned home, which is a good feeling. Everything here is just like I left it; my television show DVDs, the metro, running trails along the sea, sparking wine with girl friends. But one thing is not the same - me.

I have waited for this moment to be alone and reflect on my experiences. For the first time since I started this blog, I have no idea what to write. I left to Uganda to discover questions I had never asked before and to realize truths I did not know existed. I also hoped to find out what I would want to do with my life.

I returned with hundreds of memories, opinions and lessons learnt. It might take some time to process them all into somewhat logical conclusions. Right now I only have my current feelings. At times I notice I am randomly smiling by myself - I love walking on the familiar streets of my home city, I feel touched when my company's stone-faced manager says it is neat to have me back, I enjoy being surrounded by my own furniture, kitchenware and clothes in my own (well, rental) apartment.

Most of all, I feel incredibly grateful for having so many amazing friends here. With them I can have deep simulating conversations, I feel I am accepted just as I am and I laugh at our silliest jokes. It has taken years to build these friendships, and now for the first time I see their true value. Never again will I be able to claim no one cares about me, for I know they all exist no matter how far I travel.

Yet still in Uganda I met people who are like me; they seek adventures in the cost of comfortability and they are not satisfied to settle just with what they already have. Before I left I thought I was different, since after all I missed a half year's income of thousands of euros in order to just discover new things. It was eye opening to meet many people who had ended up in Uganda because of similar motives. Now I feel like it is ok to think differently from the majority, for there are people sharing my life views.

So you might ask, what now? I have no idea! For the time being I am enjoying being at home. I am learning to sleep without waking up at every sound and thinking that someone is breaking into the house, I am training to regain my climbing skills, I am scouting for a promotion at my company, I am looking forward to dressing up for sparkly Christmas parties. But I know myself - this will not be enough in the long term. Soon I will start looking for something else new.

In the first paragraph of this post I claimed I had changed. After giving it some thought, I think instead of changing I have strengthened the image of who I am. I seek continuous learning, unexpected challenges and never-ending variety. I continue keeping my eyes open for arising opportunities, where ever they will take me. What is fascinating about life is that you never know what future will bring along...

Being me in Uganda. I am hundred percent happy I decided to be myself there for half a year.

(Photos are from a girls' mystery trip to champagne tasting in France last weekend.)