Category: teaching

Thoughts on 39

Posted in 30s, Dating, Love, miami, peru, self-discovery, solo travel, teaching, TravelTagged , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Well 2025…that escalated quickly.

And here I thought the exorcism I experienced in the Amazon would be the thing I had to deal with (more on that in a bit).

But wildfires, wrecking balls and oligarchs have made the start of this year particularly chaotic.

Oh, and yesterday’s termination of the educational grant I’ve been working on over the past year, i.e. the termination of my job.

Boop. Cherry on top.

Luckily, I’m writing this in Rome, and Italians love cherries. So, my Roman Valentine’s Day is not totally ruined.

Right, I’m distracted now. Where was I? Oh yes, the continuous chaos of 2025, exorcisms in the jungle and the existential quandary of turning 39.

Easy.

Here are my thoughts.

The Joys They Conceive

It had been 2 years since I talked to God in the Amazon, and I decided that for my 39th birthday I would call her up again. Same place, same time, same shaman.

Only this time it would not be the light-filled, love fest I experienced in my first ceremony. No, no. Mama Aya had another agenda for me. One that was marked by an 8-hour labor of darkness, confusion and unprocessed pain. An excruciating exorcism of the soul.

Sounds terrifying, right? Well, it would have been if I hadn’t surrendered to whatever was going to come up. And, honey, the demons came up. But instead of freaking out, I faced them head on. Kicking, screaming, crying. And finally, releasing.

My experience is beyond a blog post explanation.

However, post-ceremony, as I scoured Lima for a relic that in some way represented my experience, I came across the perfect Peruvian postcard. On the front, an illustration of a woman giving birth to some type of dark creature, entitled Las Goces que Ellas Conciben, The Joys they Conceive; on the back an excerpt from the novel Las Tres Mitades de Ino Moxo y Otras Brujos de la Amazonia, about the magic and mystery of the Amazon.

A poignant parting gift from the powers that be.

Needless to say, I had a lot to process when I crawled out of the jungle in November. I had just turned 39, and my mild existential crises had upgraded to a cat 5 metaphysical meltdown. Not so much about my age, but more about the meaning of (my) life. But, that’s nothing new for me. Since I can remember, I’ve been asking and agonizing over the bigger questions.

Alas. A seeker’s seeking is never ceasing.

But it certainly makes life more interesting.

Wildfires

And then 2025 came in real hot. So to speak.

First, of course, came the devastating LA fires. Then, the fires ignited after the inauguration. All of it scorching. All of it, wild.

My tactic was to escape to Italy to work abroad for a month. For the glory of anonymity and gelato. Italian lovers and limoncello. Venetian nights and pistachio everything. Vespa rides and Roman empires.

And, it mostly worked…

Until I was laid off on Valentine’s Day (poetic injustice). Something about educational grants to help recruit future teachers for American classrooms being a waste of federal spending. And, a radical American in Rome telling me he was glad I got fired because, quote, “teachers make children trans.”

Dear God. Was this what I was going back home to?

As I reluctantly got on the plane to Miami -defeated, demoralized and enraged – I was once again reeling over what was next.

“What do I do now? Do I go back to the classroom? In the middle of the school year? Not ideal. But your Ph.D.! You have to be a teaching professor. And publish! But, no one wants to be teachers. And, public universities are under attack. Yikes. Maybe I plan another international escape? But where? And how? Do I get an emotional support animal or a boyfriend? Both are a lot of work. Do I even want to work? Yes, Holly. You have a mortgage. Dang. And, you need purpose. And health insurance. Fine. And, didn’t you say you wanted a life partner? Yes. Well, you won’t find one at your pity party. Get up, get out, get motivated. But my home is so cozy. I’m nesting. I’m healing. I’m lonely. I have so much to accomplish. I’m overwhelmed, unmotivated. New projects. No energy. WHERE IS THE ENERGY? Trying to stay positive. Serve my community. Doom scrolling. Bumble. Bleh. Beach. Baby? Breathe. Connect. Cry. Smile. Grateful. SO GRATEFUL!

Like, am I the only one feeling all the feels right now? Is this the late-stage capitalism/extinction burst before the dawn of a higher consciousness for humanity? God, I hope so. But, for now, I’m just trying to get through the day.

39

So, here we are. The last year of my 30s. And, despite my previous internal rant, and the current state of the union (and the occasional panic that I won’t find the right partner in time to procreate with)… Life is good. And sometimes even GREAT (see photos below).

I’m on my own wild and wonderful journey, and as long as I keep the faith, give my love and enjoy the ride….I’ll be all good.

I claimed 2025 the year“to be magnetic”. So, here’s to attracting more magic and conceiving more joy.

…even it means facing fires and birthing a few demons.

37 & Thriving

Posted in Backpacking, camping, Dating, Love, mexico, peru, self-discovery, self-help, solo travel, teaching, Travel, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

God, it feels good to be back in London.

The pubs, the boys, the tube. The perfect place for a holiday escape.

Indeed, I made a few escapes last year. From Mexico to the Amazon to Brunswick, Georgia…2022 had me discovering life in weird and wonderful ways.

And, as I turned 37 in the middle of the Peruvian jungle, I reflected on how far I’ve come and how much I’ve grown.

Boundaries, breakups and medicinal branches…here’s a look back on how 2022 helped this human thrive.

My Work

I kicked off the year with the worst job of my life.

Now, I had no intention of ever going back into a middle school classroom. Ten years of teaching hundreds of students, I had put in my time. Done my due diligence. Survived the insanity. But, after months of contemplation during my hiatus in Peru, I had decided to return to Miami to buy an apartment and finally create a real home base for myself. But this meant getting a job asap so the bank would give me a mortgage loan.

So, I went back to the battle ground. This time, at an alternative school in a low-income, high-crime neighborhood in North Miami.

Dr. H., with all her post-Peru good vibes only namaste energy, was met with fist-fights and curse-outs. Desk-flipping and book-throwing. It wasn’t long before I was experiencing full-blown panic attacks as I ran out of the classroom crying on a daily basis. This was trauma-informed teaching at the highest level, and I was ill-equipped.

I took many mental health days, and set boundaries so I could crawl back and show up. I was determined not to give up on myself or my students (and turns out, all I had to do was a few TikTok dances to completely gain the trust and admiration of my students…bam!). Still, it was the hardest 6 months of my teaching career.

Sadly, the real estate market was just as traumatic, and, after a handful of rejected offers, I tapped out of the property hunger games.

So, yeah. The spring was chaos.

Then the summer saw a classic Holly attempt at giving love a chance and reconnecting with an old Mexican flame only to quickly extinguish the fire and head back to Miami where the fall had so much more in store for me.

I started my first university job as an adjunct professor (absolutely YES to college students!) and I spent the rest of my time chipping away at building a nonprofit idea I have had for many years. And, I actually did it. Like, you can go donate RIGHT HERE to help fund international learning trips for deserving students and be a flagship donor for a worthy program!

So, yeah. My work is back on track. All I had to do was break down with my students, break up with my boyfriend and break out of my insecurities to create the purpose-driven career of my dreams. It’s a work in progress. But I’m progressing.

My Love Life

For a free spirit like me, being single is second nature.

My obsession with newness has led to a collection of love stories fit for a novel. But not for forever.

I follow the fleeting and avoid the available. I’m thrilled by the chase and terrified by tradition. Safe is scary. Risky is sexy. I am a stereotypical sagittarius, after all.

The 2021-2022 romantic season was dominated by two such ephemeral affairs. 2 men, 2 years, 2 countries and 2 chapters in my Book of Love. No happily ever after. But I still got my thrill.

From the outside, it may appear that I’ve given up on settling down. But, actually, I’m redefining what settling down means for me. Maybe I continue to have beautiful relationships all around the world that break me open and bring me closer to myself. Or, maybe I have a love child and co-parent with a partner as we overland across Africa. Or, perhaps, my love life will take an unexpected turn for the traditional with a marriage and mortgage and managing mommy duties.

(I’ve said the word mortgage twice in one post…what’s happening?)

Either way, I’m here for it. Open. Excited. Up for the adventure. Not getting trapped in the worry of age or expectations or insecurities (I mean I have my moments). Trusting the process. Savoring the moment. Leading with love. Loving myself. Starting to truly believe in what I deserve. All the things.

Actually, I have a lot more to say on this subject. My love life deserves its own juicy, gritty, examined post. Stay tuned.

My Awakening

People say you don’t find Mama Aya…she finds you.

But, I decided to go to her house in the Amazon and kindly knock on her door. You know, to make it easier for her to find me.

And, find me she did.

Now, sitting in a sacred ceremony, sipping on ancient plant medicine, and traveling through time and space is not an easy experience to explain. There were divine messages in many forms, a vibrational energy connecting everything, and my inner child narrating it all. It was a mind, body, and soul reset on the deepest level. Indeed, what happened to me in the jungle was the most transformative experience I’ve ever had the privilege to be a part of.

Mama Aya, The Truth, The Source, The Light, God…whatever you call her, honey, she will have you leaving a believer!

But, I’ll leave the details sacred. And, instead, leave you with this post-ceremony pic that perfectly captured the mystic vibe…

My Year Ahead

So, 2023. Back in Miami, doing Miami things. Teaching, fundraising, dating, nesting, traveling, day-dreaming, scheming, meditating, saving, savoring, sulking, integrating, growing, crying, connecting, creating, contemplating, dancing, stretching, writing, being and doing….the best I can.

And sometimes even thriving.

As the world keeps turning…

Peru

Posted in 30s, Backpacking, Dating, Love, self-discovery, self-help, solo travel, teaching, TravelTagged , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

I met Peruvian Aladdin the first day I arrived in Arequipa.

As I was trying to enjoy my rather strange alfresco lunch, a young Arequipaño with Disney character charm stopped to tell me that I…“looked like a person who knew a lot of things.”

Now, normally I would politely smile and say, “no, gracias.” But on that particular day I was feeling quite calm. And, curious. And, I had a plate of soggy papas fritas I wasn’t going to eat.

So, to Aladdin’s great surprise, I invited him to sit and share my lunch with me.

From there we went straight into life chat, took a superb walking tour of the city and ended the day singing on the streets for a few soles from passing strangers. I suggested he learn a song called A Whole New World.

Aladdin knew everyone. Fist bumps and smiles abounded as we strolled the streets of Arequipa and he shared his love for the city. His energy was magnetic, his English was impressive, and he was always available to hang.

As such, Aladdin quickly became my new best friend.

And then, of course, there were the established motorcycle gentlemen, the American-Danish trekking couple, my bachata dance partners and the curly-haired cutie from my favorite restaurant. They all made up a motley crew of new friends that turned my solo session in Arequipa into an unexpected adventure.

They also made this plane ride home a lot harder.

Going to Peru was the easiest decision I had made in months.

When my teaching contract unexpectedly ended in July, I found myself in Florida agonizing over life decisions I wasn’t ready to make. Where do I move to next? What’s my 10-year career plan? When am I ever going to start a family? Who wants to host homeless Holly as she figures all this shit out?

So, when my dear friend Patrick suggested I come with him to Machu Picchu, it was an easy and immediate YES! I had the privilege of time and money, and the overwhelming need to find clarity.

Two days later I was on a plane to Peru.

Patrick and I played tourist for the first few weeks, exploring Lima and Cusco, trekking to magnificent Machu Picchu, hiking up Rainbow Mountain and avoiding the desire to take photos with the overly exploited alpacas (“But Patty, that one has sunglasses on!”).

Along the way, we discussed life in general, and the meaning of travel in particular.

After almost 20 years of traveling the world, there are a few things I know for sure:

  1. Travelling is reenergizing. It reconnects me with my essence and gives me a renewed sense of purpose and zest for life.
  2. There is an invisible weight that is lifted when you are no longer in the proximity of your regular external stressors (ahem…society, family, friends, media…), giving you this lightness and freedom to just explore and live on your own terms. To just exist. To just be.
  3. For those two reasons, traveling makes me feel magnetic. I am open to and excited for new experiences. I am curious. I am kind (usually). I am peaceful and calm (mostly). I’m grateful and joyful and in my element. I am the best version of myself.

When Patrick returned home, I was left pondering these things as I continued my journey solo, trying to delay my own return home (which, at this moment, is a relative term).  

So, why did I wake up this morning in a cold sweat?

Because now I’m flying to Florida and I don’t want to lose the feelings of 1, 2 and 3 upon my arrival.

Like, how do you bottle that up, so when you’re back home feeling your old friend anxiety creep in, you can just give yourself a little spritz of travel zest to feel that lightness and freedom and joy again?

(I think if travel were a perfume it would be called Explorer’s Essence…but without the actual scent of an explorer because, well, yeah, that would be a hard sell).

Anyway, this all sounds a little despondent, but you’re catching me at a crossroads. My job, home and future have yet to be sorted, and for the last 6 weeks, Peru provided a haven to hide as I sought clarity on these matters.

Now, as my plane flies further away from my Peruvian refuge, I am left wondering how I can maintain this state of serenity when I’m back stateside.  

Cue the collective head shake from all my favorite spiritual sages. I know, I know. Happiness is within me. I don’t have to go far to find peace. But, sometimes, it sure does help.

So, what clarity did I find in Peru?

Well, I’m clear that I want to build something of my own. A business? A basecamp? A book? A boyfriend? A better life? We’ll see. Vamos a ver. But what I know now more than ever is that travel will continue to be an important part of whatever I do. As I eloquently put it…travel is my shit.

I’m also clear that I cannot have more than 3 pisco sours in one sitting. Let’s just leave it at that.

Peru, you gorgeous mujer. You provided peace I didn’t think was possible. You were a trip I didn’t know I needed. And now that I have a little posse of Peruvian compadres, I will see you again very soon. Hasta luego, mi amor. Until next time...

The Bubble

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, Love, mexico, self-discovery, solo travel, teaching, TravelTagged , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

As I laid in bed in my Mexican condo, beside my Mexican lover, watching Narcos Mexico on my Mexican TV, it finally dawned on me...

Oh yeah. I live in Mexico.

You see, I’d been stuck inside a bubble for the past five months. Granted, this bubble was a multi-million dollar mansion on the Sea of Cortez, equipped with a private chef, butler and anything my little corazón desired.

Everything except…privacy.

That would come after a vaccination and some negotiation.

OK, let me back this bubble story up a bit.

Last September I signed on to be a traveling teacher for a jet-set family. It was a wild and wonderful opportunity that came at an amenable time. The world was still recovering from the pesky pandemic, so why not wait it out in the lap of luxury and pile some pesos while I was at it? It was a no-brainer. I packed my bags and headed to the West Coast.

The caveat was that I’d be living with my employers. Not the worst thing if your employers provide all the aforementioned living amenities. But, for a 35-year-old single woman, this was going to be quite an adjustment.

Nevertheless, I committed.

And for the next five months, I found myself holed up in what I lovingly called the Cabo COVID Convent. I took full advantage of the all-inclusive set-up as I spent every non-working hour plugging away at my 200-page research paper.

If I wasn’t going to have a social life, I would at least finish my dissertation.

And, I was actually starting to get used to this swanky, solitary lifestyle. In fact, I took a solo Christmas sojourn around Baja that turned out to be one of the most blissful trips I’ve ever encountered.

But a social creature like me doesn’t last long alone. And, although I was enjoying my time with the “gente de la casa,” I needed a life outside the gilded gates within which I resided.

So, when the first vaccine shot presented itself to my arm, I gladly took it.

This was my freedom card.

Or at least that’s what I thought.

Oh, Holly. You jumped the gun, girl.

You know that Mexican lover I mentioned? Well, five days after my first shot, he invited me to dinner. The truth is, I sometimes snuck out of my bubble to feel like a pre-COVID person who has drinks with friends.

Now, before you lecture me on how my antibodies wouldn’t have kicked in yet, trust me, I was aware. But, alas. An innocent dinner with an infected friend turned into a 2-week quarantine as I recovered from the virus that has pestered us all for the past year.

F*cking COVID.

I had lived in an airtight bubble for many months, and it finally got me. Perfect timing, too. I had the biggest presentation of my Ph.D. life, and I couldn’t get out of bed. No smell, no taste, no hope. But, with all the time in the world, I powered through and defended my dissertation in the confines of a small, sullied Mexican hotel room.

I celebrated by taking a nap.

You can’t make this shit up.

So, what’s the silver lining?

Well, after my quarantine, I moved into my own condo. I had also started spending more time with the person that put me in quarantine in the first place. We started exploring Cabo in a way that made me feel like I actually lived there. And, I eventually got to spend a glorious week celebrating my graduation with family, friends and so much love.

So, yeah. Another example of life’s little rollercoaster shenanigans that always end in lessons learned and life lived.

And, as I prepare to leave the community I just started to feel comfortable in (we’re only in Cabo for the season, daaaling), I am reflecting hard on what commitment means and relishing my brief time with beautiful new friends.

Stay tuned for notes on my summer in San Diego…

Thoughts on 35

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, Love, self-discovery, solo travel, teaching, TravelTagged , , , , , , Leave a comment

This time last year I was looking at flights to Africa. 

I had a vision for my 35th birthday. I was going to do something epic. Something magnificent. Like, climb a mountain. Maybe, Kilimanjaro? Yes! To celebrate crossing my mid-thirties threshold, I would climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. 

But, if you were a human born after February, your birthday this year was probably a bummer. Or, it was meh. Or, fine. Or, weird. Or, whatever. But I’m sure it was a far cry from what you might have envisioned.

So, instead of sipping a celebratory beer in Tanzania and blogging about conquering Kili, I’m in my bed, quarantining at the Homewood Suites in La Quinta, California, and jotting down sleepless thoughts about turning 35. 

I’ll be here another 3 nights before taking my 7th COVID test and rejoining the family who now employs me as their private teacher. They’re staying at their Palm Desert home down the street. We all head back to the Cabo house on Friday (pending a negative COVID test, post- my thanksgiving blitz back home with lots of human contact and 3 commercial flights. Pray for me). 

It’s all very luxurious…

…and very, very strange. 

Indeed, COVID has forced us all to scale our lives and our plans and our birthday visions way back. But it’s also created unimaginable opportunities. 

Like, living with a fancy family and becoming a traveling teacher. 

Honestly, I’m not sure what I thought my life would be like at 35. And, although my current microcosm is unusual and unexpected, I can’t help but feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. 

And it’s because I’ve never felt so comfortable with being by myself before. 

Now, I’ll try not to sound like a self-help book, but 35 has got me thinking. Thinking about all the relationships I’ve leaned on in the past in order to feel fulfilled. Finding validation in friendships and family. Stumbling through fleeting and often unfavorable romantic relationships to fill a void. Or, a social quota. I don’t know. 

What I do know is that the most important relationship I’ll ever have is with myself. Aaaand there’s the self-help shite that I was talking about. But it’s true! Relationships change and grow and bend and break. BUT! If you can sit with yourself, reflect, stay calm, stay graceful and trust yourself – and the universe – enough to know that everything is going to be okay…then everything is going to be okay.

And, all your other relationships will benefit and bask in your self-love glow 🙂

After a deep, dark COVID dip, I’m feeling determined. Reformed. Empowered. Dare I say that 2020 has been a year of unprecedented self-transformation?

And, 35 feels good. Like, really good. Like, didn’t have to climb a mountain to feel good, good.

OK, I get it. My posts are emo as of late. So, I’ll leave you with something saucy about my rather curious circumstances.

I met “A” the first week I moved to the San Diego house. I was quarantining in the guest house, and I needed a distraction. Plus, I wanted to check out the SD dating scene. After all, it was my new, temporary home. So, we made a plan. I would meet him for sunset at Lifeguard Tower 19 after he finished surfing. So California. I was in. We met up, had beers and banter and bonded over Schitt’s Creek. I’d say, it went well. But, the next morning I woke up to a text along the lines of, “you’re great, but…I’m looking for something serious and long term and it doesn’t sound like you’ll be sticking around.” Dang. He was right. I was transient. And, I knew the universe was telling me to keep my head down and my self-development up.

So, I told myself to keep off the apps.

But, 2 months later, and another 4-day quarantine in Palm Desert had my fingers swiping left and right. Just out of curiosity, really. I mean, who even lives out there? Turns out, “S” did. Thanks to COVID, he was hiding out in the desert living a snowbird life and going through a similar self-transformation. So, we met up. And, it was great. He was great. It was all bloody great! But, alas! I was on my way out…again. In 48 hours, I would return to my Cabo COVID convent. Say that three times.

And, here I am. Back in my Mexican bubble, reflecting on the power of patience and the importance of timing. And, considering deleting Bumble. Because…what a tease!

Message received, Universe. Stay focused. Stay cool. And, write your dissertation.

All in good time.