When Dana Bjarner posted that she was organizing a trip to the Galápagos Islands with Maysa Santoro and Katjana Cabenda, I knew I was onto something special.
Being the go-getter I am, I contacted Dana to express my interest. Little did I know about the unexpected turn of events that was about to unfold.
After a few complicated months and several unfavorable circumstances, I wrote to her again:
"I would have loved to join this trip, but unfortunately, it's going to be impossible this year."
What I also didn't know was that Dana had her own ideas (among them, that I could provide my Underwater Photography Guide to the group).
And that after two phone conversations, some mental gymnastics, and a few moderately crazy decisions on my part, I would find myself on a plane to San Cristóbal to make what I had deemed impossible a reality: a dream that surpassed all expectations.
This was something I could sense long before I knew it. Even before setting foot in the Galápagos, life seemed to be already pointing into that direction. The rainbow projected onto the white wall of our airplane as we descended over the island was my first sign that what was awaiting was, without a doubt, extraordinary.
The Galápagos Islands are no ordinary place. Forged by volcanic fire and seismic activity, and situated at the confluence of three ocean currents, they have been isolated from the rest of the world for millions of years. It is an archipelago that seems to function by its own rules.
They are home to endemic species unimaginable in other corners of the planet. Their marine iguanas (the only lizard in the world adapted to survive in the sea) camouflage among black lava rocks. Their giant tortoises, the emblems of the archipelago, bear witness to the transformation of the ecosystem through their longevity. Beneath the surface, in the deep blue, move species that are rarely seen anywhere else on Earth.
This is the land that inspired Charles Darwin and his theory of evolution. But beyond science, there's something difficult to explain about the Galápagos. There is a constant feeling of being in a different kind of order and balance.
Life here no longer revolves around humans exclusively, but rather coexists with other species. Sea lions are a perfect example. They lay over benches, beaches, and piers as if the island was theirs (because, in many ways, it is).
This form of coexistence is manifest in everything: in the way locals interact with the animals, in the regulations that protect the ecosystem, and in the way visitors quickly learn that they don't come here to dominate, but to observe.
During the days I spent in San Cristóbal, this feeling of being in "another dimension" gradually built up, not only through its surreal and imposing landscapes (like those of Kicker Rock and Punta Pucuna), but also through the moments that defined this trip.
Within my reasonable expectations (because Galápagos surprising us is to be expected), we experienced a series of unique synchronicities...as if the door that divides what is possible from the improbable had been left ajar.
Despite its frequently murky waters, the spectacular and imposing Kicker Rock blessed us with crystal-clear blue waters on both occasions we visited it. Another gift from the rock were the schools of hammerhead sharks we managed to spot in almost perfect conditions. "You are so lucky," our guide told us.
When we visited El Junco (the lagoon in the highlands of San Cristóbal, and the only permanent source of fresh water in the entire archipelago), the sky opened up, clear blue, where fog usually dominates. Something that, they also said, doesn't happen all that often.
But beyond the extraordinary, what truly defined the trip was the ordinary: the mundane turning into the gift it is when it's shared with intention.
Many of us would gather at the start of the day to share silence, breathing exercises, and a quick impromptu yoga and stretching session. We'd also share our first coffee of the morning. The afternoon coffee, on the other hand, became a ritual of its own (which we lovingly named "Coffee Cult"), and everyday spaces (like the hostel rooftop or the boat deck) transformed into platforms for exchanging our stories...sometimes more deeply, and other times simply to fuel our inside jokes, which grew day by day. Other rituals arose spontaneously, like the impromptu karaoke sessions on the boat as we traveled each morning to a new destination.
All of this paved the way for a kind of connection that doesn't happen over a quick dinner or a "catch-up," but rather through shared experiences: the time spent together and the repetition of small, everyday moments.
Life on the island also brought a simplicity that, without being sought, became central. Little internet. Few distractions beyond the present. Hours spent walking. Hours swimming. Hours simply being.
The focus returned to the essentials: moving, exploring, sharing, observing. Remembering that the body is made for more than sitting on a chair. That attention, when not fragmented, expands. That creation happens in many ways, not only through images, but also through conversations, experiences, and shared ideas.
Photos by Dana Bjarner
The part I expected from this trip was for the Galápagos to surprise me. I came on this trip seeking a new experience and a deeper connection (with myself, with the world, and with others). What I didn't know was that I would find so much beyond just that. New friends, projects and perspectives. A mirror to my desires. A higher and kinder version of myself, too, facilitated by the context and the people who shaped it. A slightly lighter heart, and a renewed zest for life (after those turbulent months I mentioned at the beginning).
From its inception, this trip was marked by challenging everything—from the probable to the impossible. At the end of our last afternoon, returning from our magical visit to Kicker Rock, a rainbow appeared once again over the island.
An unexpected ending, but as fitting as any.
I don't know if portals to other dimensions exist in the Galápagos. But I do know that this week invited me to believe a little more in magic. To expect the unexpected. It reminded me that there are people and places that subtly change the way you see things, move around, and relate to your surroundings. That more than just accumulating sights and destinations, we can embrace a more authentic and human way of traveling and moving through the world.
And for that, I am infinitely grateful.
If you've enjoyed this blog, I invite you to subscribe to my newsletter to read the more personal reflections that emerged from this trip (about connection, disconnection, and what we truly miss in a world designed for efficiency), and from all my other adventures.
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