Issue #2

Jaguar Field Notes
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Hola, Reader, I’m so happy to have you here again.
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I’m writing to you from my studio, where a soft light slips through the window here in Berlin. Today I’ve been listening to my dear friend James Michael Rodgers. If you feel like it, I invite you to press play and let his music carry you through these stories with me "Peace In The Pain". ​
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Coming back…

Sleeping in my own bed again after five months of traveling is one of those quiet pleasures in life. Recognizing your paintings on the wall, making coffee again in your favorite cup, and looking out of your window at the streets that hold your sense of home. It’s beautiful to feel that everything is still there… and yet, you are never quite the same.

Am I a different person now?

When you leave, you become your own home. Like a snail, you carry your clothes, your things, but also everything you are. Everything that opens the doors to new houses, new landscapes, new experiences. You learn to fall in love with what is new, and to accept that everything is temporary, and that you will have to say goodbye.

For me, traveling is learning to say "Adiós" many times, and to love with intensity. To carry with you a smile, and the ability to be surprised.

I return to my home, where the furniture is still in its place… but where the person who lives in it has quietly changed.

Some photos I want to start sharing with you from Nepal.

An anecdote from this trip

Now that I’m home, I wanted to share a small story that marked my journey from the very first day. Ready?

I was at Delhi airport, in the middle of a six-hour layover. My body was starting to feel unwell, and all I wanted was to leave and catch my next flight to Kathmandu. Stuck between waiting and that restless feeling of not being able to go anywhere, a man appeared in front of me. Tall, with a long beard and orange robes. At first glance, he looked like an Indian guru.

And I believed he was… until I noticed something unexpected: a Colombian backpack, handmade by the Kogui people.

If you’ve been following my stories, you’ll know I’ve spent time living in the mountains with these communities, so I recognized it immediately.

Curious, I looked at him and asked: “Is that a Kogui backpack?”

He looked at me, surprised, and said: “Yes… but how do you know that? How can you recognize it?” And honestly, I understood his surprise... we were on the other side of the world!

I told him I’m Colombian, and that I’ve lived with them in the mountains. That it was beautiful to see him carrying one.

We introduced ourselves. I told him my name, and with a warm smile he replied, “Well then, I’m Ogi.”

O G I

We ended up taking the same flight, and once we landed in Kathmandu, we naturally started moving through the airport together. It felt so effortless that I didn’t even think twice about it.
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The first thing that happened was that my bank card suddenly stopped working. I was trying to withdraw money from an ATM when the machine informed me I needed to contact my bank. There I was. Far from Germany, with no cash, no way to make the call, and if I’m being honest… absolutely no idea what to do.
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I must have looked worried, because Ogi noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he pulled out some money and handed it to me.

“Take it. You need it.”
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​Of course, I refused at first. But eventually I accepted, realizing I truly needed the help, and that he was offering it wholeheartedly. Which honestly left me wondering… how? Ogi, had only known me for a few minutes.

The organization I was supposed to work with had arranged for someone to pick me up at the airport and take me to a hotel before I continued on to another city the next day.

Well… I think you can already guess where this is going...

No one came for me.

And somehow, a few moments later, I found myself in a taxi with Ogi, driving through Kathmandu toward a place he insisted was perfect for escaping the chaos and reconnecting with yourself.

I understood absolutely nothing.

I had just stepped off a plane into a completely new country, after months of carefully planning this trip… and now I was in the back of a taxi with a man dressed in orange, heading toward an unknown destination somewhere in Nepal.

Ogi, took me to a hotel he always stays at whenever he’s in Nepal. When we arrived, we weren’t even sure there would be a room available for me. But sometimes things unfold with a strange sense of timing. Just as we got there, someone was checking out, and the room happened to be right next to Ogi’s.
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Dropped my bags, my head was pounding. But somehow, little by little, everything started falling into place. My credit card began working again (so I could finally pay Ogi back), I had a place to sleep, I felt safe… and I was finally in Nepal.

A little later, Ogi called me to go get food. I followed him as if I were walking around with an old friend.

We crossed a few streets, passed through a narrow corridor, and suddenly arrived at a place that had been sitting on my “must-see” list for months. I couldn’t believe we were actually there. Seeing my reaction, Ogi laughed.

He showed me how to move through the place properly: walk on the left side, circle three times, clear your thoughts before asking for something good, not just for yourself, but for others too. He placed a small red dot between my eyebrows, explaining that it helps retain energy and sharpen concentration. We rang the temple bells, wandered through markets, tasted spices, smelled endless varieties of incense, and tried food from every corner we could find.

I felt filled with a kind of childlike wonder, the kind that appears when everything around you feels new. Even the pain in my body slowly began to disappear.

At the end of the day, we went to eat at another hidden place, somewhere special. There were no tourists there, only locals, and soon the table filled itself with plates. Food everywhere. Abundance everywhere.

And yet, up until that moment, I still hadn’t managed to pay for anything or offer something in return. Every time I tried, he would somehow quietly take care of it first.

Finally, I said to him:

“Wait. Let me pay this time.”

He smiled.

“It’s already paid for. There’s nothing left to do.”

“Ogi,” I said, “that can’t be possible… since we arrived, you’ve given me safety, a home, food, friendship. How could I ever repay you for all of this? How do I thank you?”

He looked at me and said:

“Do you want to know how?”

“Yes.”

“By being happy.”