​An old man slowly sits next to me. His back is painfully bended forward and almost forms the shape of half a moon. With great effort he lifts up his head as far as he can to greet me. His face is deeply wrinkled by the many years of intense sun in this altitude. “Buenos dias mi hija.” (Good morning my child) he says with his toothless smile. “Buenos dias señor.” Even though I was used to the fact that elderly people would apply to me as their child, it still felt uncomfortable to reply with the common `Papi` or `Mami`. With a firm sip I try to suck the last bit of juice out of my glass. I sneak over the counter to see if the lady has a bit more left in the blender. There is, at least enough for another glass. I put on my charming best and do the trick I`ve seen other with Peruvians. 

​Tables have been turned again. After weeks, excuse me, months of being totally happy and in balance with myself. The little devil inside me has popped his head around the corner again. Fed by being homesick, I long to my trusty regular, comfy life back home. Spiced up with the condiments of fear and doubt about the future. Enjoying my current life I am eating through my savings, but will there be a job to level it up. And if yes, what kind of job? 

​The year 2015 is coming to its end. I`m already on the road for more than a year now. Time flies when you`re having fun. What a time it has been, especially the last two weeks on Galapagos. Absolutely unforgettable. I never wiped away so many tears of joy in my life. What a richness in wildlife. Young sea lions, curiously gazing at our camera`s. The nights we spent sitting on a bench in the harbor, enjoying the clumsy movements of the sea lions coming to shore after a hard day of work at sea. We biked along a dozen giant tortoises on island Isabella. Drank wine on the beach together with other backpacker on Christmas Eve. We`ve seen massive sea turtles swimming past, elegantly, almost ballerina like, pushing themselves forward with their flippers through the water.