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When I was a kid, my father had to work hard to make ends meet. He loved to travel, and he looked for opportunities without spending a lot of money, usually by working while traveling for the job. Sometimes we traveled for months, unlike other people who had maybe 15 days per year of vacation. Dad and I were close; he often took me with him, especially to the sea. We loved the sea and fishing. Each time I went with Dad, it was an adventure because he taught me a lot about life, and respect, especially towards animals. He taught me to observe and appreciate how animals and people share the space and how we should live together. The summer of 1974, I was six years old, and Dad took the whole family to Colmuyao, a small town on the central coast of Chile. It is a humble and beautiful town, with very affectionate people, most of whom are farmers and fishermen. The streets are stone and earth, and the houses are adobe. Surrounded by trees and a beautiful river that flows into the ocean, the area is dreamlike. The weather there is usually cold and windy; however, I found it very pleasant. The beach is huge, with coarse gray sand that feels like a foot massage. Colmuyao was our paradise and whenever we could, we went there to spend some time. However, this first adventure in Colmuyao was burned into my memory, for a very special reason. When we arrived at the beach that day, we saw birds lying on the sand. My dad said, "Look! Those are penguins!" It can't be, I thought; they live in Antarctica. We approached very carefully, and there they were, calm and close to each other. As we got closer, they noticed our presence and began to alert each other. Imagine a hundred penguins rhythmically singing a song that is a cross between a trill and a squawk. Dad asked us to sit in the sand and move forward very slowly without making a sound. We were so close that we could almost touch them. They were beautiful birds; their black and white feathers were bright and delicate, and they seemed dressed for an exceptional occasion in their “tuxedos.” I didn't hold back my desire and I tried to touch one of them, which caused a colossal stampede of well-dressed birds rushing into the sea. It was a lot of fun to watch them run with their wings spread and taking small leaps. They are very brave, I thought; the sea was raging and very cold, yet they jumped in with energy and decisiveness. I impulsively wanted to go after them, but my dad stopped my madness. I was astonished. It was like being in the middle of a dream or with my own Jacques Cousteu filming a documentary. I would never have dreamed of being so close to such beautiful and rare birds. My eyes were filled with their deep colors. Every detail was amazing, and watching them walk with difficulty and then, watching them ride the waves and fly in the water at an impressive speed, grabbed my attention completely. I felt like I could stay there forever without ceasing to marvel. Every day, we revisited the penguin colony. My family and I learned to tiptoe among them, and we often sat very close to them. We never touched or hugged them; although we really wanted to, we didn't want to scare them and make them flee again. On another day, my dad and some of my brothers fished from the shore of the beach while my youngest brother and I played with the penguins. I can't remember exactly how it happened, but we found one with a wound on one of his wings. Dad took it carefully to the house where we were staying. The poor penguin was very scared. My dad cleaned his wound and bandaged his wing. For many days, the penguin was with us; my dad fed him fish while his wound healed. I spent a lot of time staying with him and many times my dad allowed me to feed him fish or other seafood. The first time that I fed him, he approached me very carefully, and with a quick big peck he snatched the fish out of my hand. That was amazing. After more attempts, he trusted me, and received the food with more confidence. Finally, after a few weeks, the penguin recovered his health, and my dad returned him to the colony. For a few days, we saw him walking among the other penguins, completely healthy. My dad had named him “Muñeco,” which means “doll,” in Spanish. I learned a lot about the penguins; actually, they've been one of my favorite birds since then. Seeing my father walk through the colony made me feel so proud of him and the time we spent that summer with Muñeco is one of my family's most treasured memories. Each time that I feel bad or wounded, for any reason, I close my eyes and take a trip in my mind to that beautiful beach. Surrounded by penguins, with my parents and brothers walking around that marvelous scenario under the cold summer sun, I always feel better. Colmuyao is my inner paradise, a place in my mind where I can run away when I need to find peace and gain balance again in my life.

You know those places that touch you, change you or show who you really are? Those places that make you sigh because finally you feel at home or you feel alive or at peace. All of those emotions barely touch the surface of what I discovered on my trip to Kauai. It happened before the plane touched down. A crucial fact about me is I hate planes. I am terrified of flying. When I hear babies on planes screaming their lungs off at take off, I get jealous. I want to scream and cry but darn the societal constructs that require me to be a calm adult, even while climbing the heavens in a ungodly metal bucket held together by glue. These were the thoughts I was having during my third and longest flight ever. Only the dream of a beach wedding in Hawaii, paradise, could make me endure an eight hour flight. I had all the regrets, fears and the shakes until I saw it. From far up above, the green waves of the landscape that pierced my window. It would be the only time I had looked out a plane window and felt serenity and awe. “Oh my god. Oh my god” I said to my soon to be husband. “We made it”. There was a part of me when planning my wedding that thought we're two people who had only traveled to a few states, who had never left the continental United States, who waited until our late twenties to even try flying, that we would never make it. Then, when I saw paradise, I was struck, I hadn't made it to a far-off place. I had made it to a different world. When we got off the plane we were greeted by a Moa (Mutual Roosters with the powers of scaring wild dogs and incredible replication) bobbing its head in our direction. “What is this place”, I said. I would soon experience being woken up to the sounds of Moa every night that we spent in the country B&B. “What is this place?”, I repeated constantly. We danced our first dance as a married couple, in a circle of petals, on a Hawaiian beach with a Hawaiian guitarist as a few beach goers smiled brightly waiting to congratulate us. “This is happiness”, I thought. We went to a luau as our reception at a tropical botanic gardens. The county clerk and owner of the gardens that hosted the luaus remembered us and that our wedding was the same day. He announced us as a newly-wedded couple and along with the other newlyweds we danced to the Hawaiian Marriage Song. I thought, “this is community. This is welcoming.” While the wildness and freedom of the Kauai's gardens made me feel alive; Waimea Canyon, with its cliffs and edges that could change or crumble without notice, made me feel small and infinite at the same time. Close to our time to go home, we explored several beaches and came across a Secret Beach. It was a hike to get down to it. We almost gave up on as the light was fading into dusk. As we finally made it down without any sliding, we passed a gentleman who said, “You're lucky, you're going to have the beach to yourself”. The ocean was untamed and unswimmable. The beach was so vast. The sun orange glow was itching towards sunset. It was the most glorious sight I've ever seen. We turned on a cell phone and again danced with the sand tangling into our toes. Our laughter ranging over the sound of rushing waves. Water has always been a bittersweet unrequited love for me. As a child, I almost drowned. I never tried to learn again until a few months before our Hawaiian wedding. My goal was to just be able to get into the water. In Kauai I faced my fear. I got into deep oceans for the first time. I watched dolphins from our tour boat . I failed miserably at snorkeling, coughing up salt water numerous times, but for a few minutes I saw endless fish below me. Terrifying and beautiful. Hawaii was where the person I want to be came braving out. It wasn't all adventures, there were the quiets moments laying on the beach, the waves working as a daytime lullaby. There were the car drives with the windows low and the island music high. We sang carelessly as we drove through arches of green. There is really no good way to describe Kauai. It is breathless and breathtaking all wrapped in one. It is a place that I can never understand or do justice having not grown up in its graces. All I can describe is how it changed me, healed me, birthed something new inside of me. When I flew away, I was a different and married person. Kauai gave my husband a great gift. This unique discovery and experience that we only shared with each other. Whether we have tough times, we will always be able to look back to the place that showed us what pure joy can be. In a stressful, chaotic and scary world, you can still find a piece of paradise.