Spring, movement, and a few thoughts from Caracas 🌿

Dear friends,

Spring seems to be arriving quietly again, almost without asking for attention. A shift in the light, in the air, in the way one begins to think a little further ahead. It feels like one of those moments in the year when things do not change suddenly, but gently begin to move.

I am writing this from Caracas, having just returned from a week in Apure. It was one of those trips that leaves you both tired and strangely grounded. Long days in the field, conversations that stay with you, and the reminder of how complex and fragile the reality here continues to be. And then, coming back — to a desk, to emails, to a different rhythm — with a sense that both worlds somehow coexist, even if uneasily.

There is also a quiet awareness that my time in Venezuela is slowly coming to an end. It does not feel dramatic, but rather like the closing of a chapter that has been intense, demanding, and, in many ways, deeply formative. What will stay with me most are the people. Over time, this place stopped being just a duty station and became something more human, more personal. I have been incredibly lucky to find here not just colleagues, but a kind of family — Mayling, Giovanni, and Samantha, who have been a constant source of warmth and kindness in these years.

There have also been moments of relief and gratitude recently. We have just learned that Leo’s work permit in Spain has been extended for another year. It is difficult to put into words what this means, but it brings a sense of stability and hope that was very much needed. I feel deeply grateful to all of you who, in one way or another, were part of the support around him.

Looking ahead, a new chapter is slowly taking shape. As of August, I will be moving to Addis Ababa with ECHO. It still feels a little abstract — more a direction than a reality — but I am looking forward to discovering what this next step will bring.

Before that, the coming months will be filled with movement. In May and June, I will be spending time in Europe, including Poland, and I am especially happy that I will be travelling together with my Mum. From there, we will go to Canada to visit Tahir, Amna, and their daughter Hania — whom I have not yet met in person. I find myself looking forward to that moment with a kind of simple joy.

There will be other stops along the way — a bit of travel, a bit of transition — but perhaps what I am most aware of is the passage itself. Moving between places, between roles, between phases of life, and somehow trying to remain connected to the people who matter, even as geography keeps shifting.

I often think of how our lives have spread across continents, and how, despite that, certain connections remain steady and quietly present. This message is, in a way, also just that — a small bridge across distance.

I hope that wherever you are, this season brings you some space to breathe, to rest, and to look ahead with a sense of calm.

Sending you my warmest thoughts,
Roman

Soon, I will travel again within Venezuela.

There is something about field visits that stirs a particular kind of anticipation — not the excitement of airports or distant horizons, but something deeper and steadier. A return to the ground. To the dust. To the schools and clinics and community halls where plans on paper take tangible form.

In a few days, I will head south, leaving Caracas early in the morning and travelling by road for many hours until the landscape opens into the vast plains of Apure. Long stretches of highway, two brief stops along the way, and then arrival in San Fernando. These journeys are never merely logistical; they are transitions. They allow the mind to slow, to shift from office conversations to the rhythm of communities.

The purpose of the visit is simple, yet essential: to see, to listen, to better understand how the activities we support unfold in practice. Meetings with local authorities, conversations with teachers and health staff, exchanges with community representatives — all part of ensuring that what we fund truly reaches those it is meant to serve.

One of the moments I most look forward to is visiting a school that, not long ago, stood empty. No students. No functioning facilities. Now its doors are open again. Classrooms that were silent hold voices once more. Desks and materials have been delivered. Teachers have received training. Water access has improved through the drilling of a well and installation of storage systems. Solar panels have been installed. Even school gardens are being cultivated — small but meaningful signs of continuity and dignity returning to daily life.

There will also be visits to protective spaces within schools — places designed not only for learning, but for safety and expression. Musical instruments, traditional clothing, educational materials — modest details perhaps, yet in communities that have faced isolation and hardship, such elements matter. They signal normality. They signal investment in the future.

In another community, discussions with local health authorities will focus on the broader situation — the pressures on services, the gaps that remain, the realities behind the statistics. These conversations are rarely dramatic. They are practical. Honest. At times sobering. But always necessary.

Field visits are not glamorous. They involve long drives, early breakfasts, dust on shoes, notebooks filled with observations. Feedback sessions in modest offices. Returning late in the afternoon, tired yet clearer about what works and what still needs attention.

And yet, these moments reconnect me most strongly with why this work matters.

Walking through classrooms, listening to teachers, speaking with community members, observing how infrastructure improvements translate into daily routine — this is where abstraction gives way to reality. Questions are asked. Notes are taken. Assumptions are tested against lived experience.

There is something profoundly grounding about standing where support becomes visible — where children sit at desks that were not there before, where water flows where it once did not, where attendance grows from zero to dozens within a year.

As my time in Venezuela gradually moves toward its final months, these visits carry a particular weight. They are not only moments of monitoring and evaluation, but of witnessing — of standing still long enough to understand what has changed, and what still requires patience.

The road south awaits.
The plains of Apure stretch wide and quiet.

In places like these, impact does not announce itself loudly. It appears in small, persistent shifts — a reopened classroom, a functioning water point, a teacher who stays, a student who returns.

This is where the abstract becomes real.
Where distance narrows.
Where purpose settles back into focus.

And perhaps that is why going back to the field always feels less like departure, and more like return.

Over the past days, the headlines from the Middle East have become heavier again.

Missiles. Retaliation. Escalation. New fronts opening. Borders tightening. Civilian casualties rising in Iran, Israel, Lebanon, Gaza. Words repeat themselves with disturbing familiarity, even as the geography expands.

As someone working in humanitarian response, I read these updates differently. Behind every headline I see not strategy, but people. Families who did not choose the timing of this escalation. Children who do not understand why sirens dictate their sleep. Elderly people who must once again decide what to carry and what to leave behind.

Civilians always pay first. And they pay longest.

What worries me deeply is how quickly humanitarian space begins to shrink when escalation accelerates. Border crossings close. Access routes become unsafe. Aid convoys are delayed. Communication lines collapse. What yesterday was difficult becomes nearly impossible today. And in that shrinking space, food deliveries stall, medical supplies run low, water systems fail, protection mechanisms weaken.

Humanitarian action depends on fragile conditions: access, dialogue, minimal security guarantees, respect for international humanitarian law. These conditions are rarely robust. They are negotiated, delicate, constantly tested. When military logic dominates, humanitarian logic struggles to breathe.

Diplomacy, too, becomes fragile. In moments of rapid escalation, trust erodes quickly, and once lost, it is not easily rebuilt. The space for quiet conversations — the kind that prevent further suffering — narrows. Yet it is precisely in these moments that such conversations matter most.

From Caracas, geographically far yet professionally close, I feel the weight of this familiar cycle. The Middle East does not experience crisis in isolation; instability echoes across regions, affecting economies, displacement patterns, political tensions far beyond immediate borders.

But at the centre of it all are not geopolitical calculations.

At the centre are people waiting for crossings to reopen. Patients hoping electricity will hold in hospitals. Parents trying to create normality in abnormal days. Aid workers attempting to operate in environments where security assurances shift by the hour.

This is not a political reflection. It is a human one.

Escalation always feels sudden. Human consequences are never sudden. They accumulate quietly, day after day, long after media attention shifts elsewhere.

In times like this, I find myself returning to something simple: the reminder that humanitarian space must be defended not as a political position, but as a human necessity. Civilians deserve protection. Aid must reach those who need it. Dialogue must remain possible.

These are fragile principles.

But they are not optional ones.

Exciting times, and time moving too fast

Some additional developments have taken place over the past days.

Following further clarifications from headquarters regarding policies and timelines linked to my transfer from Venezuela to Ethiopia, I have finally been able to adjust both my professional and personal movement plans for the coming months. For a while, everything felt slightly suspended, dependent on decisions still taking shape somewhere between offices and calendars. Now things have become clearer, and with clarity comes a certain calm.

All in all, it seems that I will remain here in Caracas until mid-May.

I am genuinely happy about that. These remaining months offer time to close this chapter properly, not abruptly. I hope to use this period to undertake one or two field visits within Venezuela. Plans are still forming, but I am already looking forward to travelling inside the country again, visiting projects we support, seeing firsthand how ideas written in proposals translate into real support for people and communities. Those moments in the field always reconnect me with the essence of the work.

Then May and June will unfold very differently.

For several weeks I will be largely outside Venezuela, combining holidays with some professional commitments. The journey will begin in Poland, where I will travel to pick up Mum. From there, together, we will fly to Toronto for a long-awaited visit. Finally we will be able to spend time with Tahir and Amna and meet their daughter, Hania, whose arrival already feels like part of our extended story even before we have met her in person.

During our stay in Canada, the plan is beautifully simple: together with Tahir’s family we will rent a place somewhere in the countryside, either in Ontario or Québec, not too far from Ottawa. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere surrounded by nature. A smaller place from which we can make daily excursions, explore villages and landscapes, and visit friends nearby without the pressure of large cities. The idea of shared breakfasts, walks, conversations stretching into evenings, and unhurried days already feels like a gift.

From Canada we will return briefly to Poland — almost just to change planes in Warsaw — before continuing south once again, this time to Agadir.

It will be our first journey to Morocco, and both Mum and I are genuinely excited. Although we will spend a week by the ocean, the plan is far from staying still. We want to explore Agadir itself, travel to Marrakesh, and venture into the southern landscapes — perhaps along the Atlantic coast, into small fishing villages, desert-edge scenery, and the mountains that shape that part of the country. A different continent, different colours, different rhythms.

After Morocco, we return once more to Poland. I will spend some time in Nowy Sącz, working a little, slowing down, and simply enjoying being home. Then, in mid-June, I will travel to Brussels for meetings and preparatory training that will allow a smoother transition into my future responsibilities in Addis Ababa.

From Brussels, I will return again to Venezuela for several final weeks — preparing both myself and the office for the transition ahead. Somewhere in mid-July I will travel back to Poland to take my obligatory respite leave before the next chapter begins.

And then, almost suddenly, it will be time to move to Ethiopia, with arrival planned for 1 August.

It all feels exciting. Full of movement and anticipation.

And yet, beneath that excitement sits another feeling too: time seems to be running incredibly fast. The calendar advances with a certainty that emotions rarely match. I realise more and more that I am not entirely ready to say goodbye to Venezuela. This country, and Caracas in particular, have become deeply meaningful chapters of my life — professionally demanding, personally rich, and filled with friendships that will remain long after departure.

So for now, I choose to stay present in what remains.

There are still months here. Still conversations to have, places to revisit, work to complete, journeys inside Venezuela yet to happen. And hopefully, along the way, opportunities to see many of you — somewhere between Caracas, Poland, Canada, Morocco, Brussels, or beyond.

The road ahead is already visible.

But this chapter is not finished yet.

More than a week has passed since I returned to Caracas.

Already it feels as though my wonderful journey through Lima, Montevideo, Colonia del Sacramento, and Panama happened long ago — like a chapter I finished reading and then slowly carried in my pocket. Yet whenever I open the photo galleries from that trip, I am again carried away by memory: the light on the ocean cliffs in Lima, the slow river light in Montevideo, the cobblestone curves of Colonia at dusk, and the familiar streets of Panama that seemed to welcome me back with quiet warmth.

🇵🇦 Panama
Even a brief stay there felt like returning to an old conversation. Casco Viejo’s pastel façades, balconies that lean gently into time, and the soft, forgiving quality of light at dusk made me feel seen by the city rather than merely passing through. Walking Avenida Balboa and letting the Pacific stretch its vast calm before me felt like inhaling deeply — the way you breathe when you first wake and realise you slept soundly.

Panama photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/C3MkWdfQmuFyHjwE8.

🇵🇪 Lima
Three days in Lima taught me how a city can unfold slowly if you are willing to walk with no destination in mind. In Miraflores, mornings began quietly, tree-lined streets filtering sunlight and cafés waking with gentle rhythm. Then the land dropped away to the Pacific below — a presence more than a view — and I stood for longer than I expected, watching waves shape themselves into patterns of calm repetition. Barranco felt like a place that remembers its own stories, each narrow street and balcony whispering histories I was only beginning to hear.

Lima photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/FwN4vSnLzoZcEXSp9.

🇺🇾 Montevideo and Colonia del Sacramento
Montevideo was a slow unfolding, like finding your footing inside a different kind of quiet. The rambla along the river that stretches and pretends to be an ocean welcomed me with its open pace — walkers, mate flasks, dogs, light shifting slowly across water. Guided strolls through Ciudad Vieja and markets where voices rise and settle made me appreciate how ordinary life, lived generously, shapes a city’s heart. And Colonia del Sacramento, with its timeless cobblestones and warm dusk light, felt like stepping into a memory I hadn’t yet lived but somehow recognised.

Uruguay photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/2S2KjPqdSWTcDp6W6

It was a solo trip — not out of solitude, but out of that rare, quiet freedom that comes when you travel by yourself. I like travelling with people, and I treasure shared explorations. But there is something about wandering new places alone — and returning to familiar ones in that way too — that makes you feel more fully engaged with your own thoughts, with the world as it moves around you, and with the subtle unfolding of your own self. It left me happy, refreshed, and invigorated — as though something inside me had been gently tuned before returning to the usual rhythms of life in Caracas.

And I am enjoying my time here a lot.

Caracas is not just a home base; it is home in the way certain cities quietly become part of you. I have wonderful friends here, and I appreciate every shared meal, every conversation that stretches long into the evening, every unexpected moment of laughter. Even when I get tired — and I do at times — there is a deep sense of belonging in this city that I am grateful for.

We are not entering a calm period at work — but the pace is different now. We are in the midst of allocating funds for our projects in 2026 and beyond — a huge amount of work that demands careful reading of proposals, thoughtful analysis, and difficult decisions about where our resources will make the best impact. It is challenging, dense work, and often not easy. Yet it is engaging in ways that make me feel grounded in purpose. This is a very interesting time — demanding, yes, but also rich with possibilities.

Even as some of these plans still seem distant, my thoughts turn gently toward what comes next.

I find myself thinking about my next deployment in Ethiopia — about moving to Addis Ababa, about how the city has changed since my last visit, about the rhythms of life there, and about the work that will unfold in that chapter. I have been reading, learning, preparing quietly in the background of each day. Already I have a feeling of how things may go, though of course the reality will have its own shape and pace. But before that chapter begins, there are still months here — hopefully with trips to the field across Venezuela, to see and evaluate our projects where they live, on the ground, with the people they touch.

Then in June, I will be heading to Brussels, and likely to Poland as well — another kind of return, another reconnection. And after that, there are provisional thoughts in my mind about what I may be doing with my mum and with friends before Ethiopia begins in earnest… but that is a story for another time, when the right moment arrives.

For now, I sit with these memories — letting the quiet of Panama linger a little longer in my bones, letting the images and sounds of strange and familiar streets unfold again in my mind, and letting the slow rhythm of life here in Caracas fold gently around me.

I am sitting in Panama again, in my hotel room where the city hums quietly below, thinking about these past two weeks. Tomorrow morning I will be flying back to Caracas, but today is still filled with small rhythms of work — a final visit to the office, a last coffee with colleagues, conversations that feel both familiar and slightly changed by absence.

This trip was exactly what I needed: a chance to recharge my batteries in a way only travel seems to allow. There was no stress, no strict plan — just openness and the willingness to let each place reveal itself at its own pace. It was a holiday born out of a subtle window of time between other responsibilities, and it turned out to be one of the most peaceful and refreshing breaks I’ve had in a long while.

Panama felt like an old friend from the first steps. One day there, but enough to walk Casco Viejo again, to let its layers of memory settle differently in my mind. Familiar streets, pastel façades, and that quiet sense of continuity — places that remembered me even before I remembered them. Panama always offers more than transit; it offers pause and recognition.

Lima followed with its own gentle lessons in attention. Three days of walking — not rushing, just letting the city’s rhythm meet my curiosity. Miraflores in early light, coffee in quiet cafés, then the sudden drop to the Pacific below the cliffs, waves rolling in their quiet discipline. In Barranco I wandered narrow streets where stories cling to balconies and walls, and I crossed the Bridge of Sighs almost by accident, a small ritual that felt bigger than it needed to be.

In Montevideo I found a different sort of calm — unhurried, gracious, rooted in ordinary life. I walked the rambla beside the wide river that feels almost like an ocean, passed people with mate flasks and dogs by their sides, and let the city’s softer rhythms unfold. One day brought light rain after bright sunshine, a small reminder that nothing stays the same from one moment to the next. With a guide, I visited key corners of the city and even began planning a visit to Colonia and perhaps further east to Costa del Este — places that now sit quietly on my list of “somewhere else.”

And through it all, I walked. Every day was measured not in flights or bus rides, but in steps — fifteen thousand most days, and once in Lima more than twenty-thousand. My legs felt it by the end of each evening, in that satisfying way that tells you you’ve truly seen a place with your own two feet.

Now, in this calm moment before departure, I realise how much this journey has refreshed me. There was no rush, no checklist, no pressure to perform curiosity — just a letting be, a going with the flow, and the simple joy of exploring. I needed that. And I am happy to be returning to Caracas tomorrow — not reluctantly, not tired, but full of stories, calm in my mind, and grateful for the days that helped me breathe a little more deeply.

More soon from home, and pictures will follow!

After a few days of movement and discovery, I find myself in Montevideo.

The journey unfolded gently. One day in Panama City, just enough to let memory walk beside me again. Three days in Lima, where the city revealed itself step by step, patiently, through walking rather than explanation. And now Uruguay, arriving not with spectacle but with a quieter promise.

Panama was brief, but full.

Returning there always feels layered. Casco Viejo held me again in its narrow streets and softened façades, shaped by centuries of destruction and reinvention. I walked past places where earlier versions of my life unfolded — cafés where mornings once stretched lazily, streets whose rhythm I still carry in my body. Panama never feels like a stopover. It feels like a place that remembers, even if the remembering happens mostly inside me.

Beyond the old quarter, the city opened outward. Avenida Balboa, where the skyline meets the Pacific and ships wait patiently offshore. Vía Argentina, alive with conversation and shade. And Ciudad del Saber, where ideas once mattered more than speed, where I worked, worried, hoped, and believed deeply in cooperation. Being there again felt like opening an old notebook and recognising your own handwriting.

Then Lima.

Three days of walking until the city began to speak.

I arrived without a plan, which felt exactly right. Lima does not demand preparation; it asks for attention. Miraflores welcomed me with calm streets and filtered light, before suddenly giving way to the cliffs and the Pacific below. The ocean there is not decoration — it is presence. Constant, steady, indifferent.

Barranco followed, narrower and more introspective. A place that remembers. I crossed the Bridge of Sighs almost accidentally, held my breath, made a quiet wish, and smiled at myself for participating in a legend I had just learned. Cities endure not only through architecture, but through these small agreements to keep stories alive.

The second day deepened everything. With Sebastián, the historic centre opened its layers — the cathedral heavy with centuries, a discreet library behind the presidential palace where silence felt intentional, protective. Then Chinatown, alive and unapologetic, where fusion has long since become tradition rather than novelty. And later, fountains rising and dancing at dusk, joyful and slightly absurd, children running between jets of light. Lima does not resist contradiction. It embraces it.

The final day was deliberately simple. Shopping, coffee, familiar streets that had already begun to feel known. That moment when a place stops being new is always bittersweet. I packed slowly, knowing I was leaving unfinished conversations behind — with the city, and perhaps with myself.

Since leaving Caracas, I have been walking constantly. Fifteen thousand steps a day has become the norm, and one day in Lima reached just over twenty thousand. My legs feel it — but in the best way. Walking remains my favourite way of understanding a place. It aligns thought and movement, quietens noise, sharpens attention.

And now Montevideo.

Yesterday was bright and full of sun. Today it is raining lightly, and the change feels welcome. The city seems to soften under rain, colours deepening, sounds lowering. Later today I will meet a guide who will show me the highlights of the city — an introduction, a first conversation. Together we will also plan a visit to Colonia, and perhaps further east along the coast, to places where the map loosens and the rhythm changes.

I am looking forward to all of it.

Being here feels like the right pace. Not rushing, not accumulating, just moving attentively from one place to the next. Travelling like this — walking, listening, letting cities unfold rather than perform — reminds me why distance matters. Why change of place changes something inside us too.

More soon, from this side of the river that pretends to be an ocean.

The day of travel has come.

The bags are packed, the apartment unusually quiet, and that particular mix of anticipation and calm has settled in. In a short while I will head to the airport and let the journey begin.

First stop: Panama, just for a night. A pause, a threshold, a familiar in-between. Then onward to Peru, where I will spend a few days letting Lima reveal itself slowly, without expectations. After that, Uruguay awaits — Montevideo, the river that feels like an ocean, streets I have never walked before. Before returning, I will pass through Panama once more, this time for meetings, closing the circle before heading back.

I cannot wait.

Travelling has always felt like oxygen to me. Not escape, but alignment. A way of breathing more fully, of remembering who I am when routines loosen their grip. New cities sharpen my senses; unfamiliar streets quiet my thoughts. Exploration, in its simplest form, brings me back to myself.

So this is the moment to disconnect, at least a little. To put distance between schedules and alerts, and to focus on what makes me genuinely happy: moving, observing, learning, wandering.

I will write again from elsewhere.

Life sometimes brings unexpected surprises.

After weeks of closed skies and constant adjustments, things have begun to open again in Caracas. A few international lines have quietly resumed their services, and with the calendar offering a rare moment of breathing space, the decision came almost naturally. I am going on holiday.

It feels strange to say it out loud. Even stranger to need it this much.

In the coming days I will first pass through Panama City, a place that for me is never just a transit point but a collection of faces, conversations, shared meals and unfinished stories. I hope to catch up with friends there, to sit somewhere familiar, to let time slow down for a moment before the journey continues.

From there I will head south, towards two cities I have never known before: Lima and Montevideo.

Lima, resting between desert and ocean, carries the weight of centuries in its stones. I imagine walking through Barranco at dusk, tracing the edges of Miraflores above the Pacific, tasting something simple and local in a market whose rhythm I do not yet understand. I want to stand on the Malecón and watch the sea stretch endlessly north and south, as if the continent itself were breathing.

Montevideo feels quieter in my imagination, more inward. A city of worn cafés, long rambla walks, bookshops and river light. I look forward to wandering Ciudad Vieja, to the hush of museums, to the slow curve of the Río de la Plata where the water pretends to be an ocean. Perhaps I will take a bus and leave the capital for a day, just to see what lives beyond the map’s main lines.

This is not the kind of journey built around checklists. It is a pause. A space between responsibilities. A chance to let unfamiliar streets speak before returning to what waits.

I so much look forward to the break.

As always, I will keep you posted.

Caracas, early hours of 1 January 2026

I wasn’t necessary for the clock to announce midnight — I slept through the arrival of 2026. There were no fireworks from my bedroom window, no shouting from the street below. Instead, at 3 a.m. I woke, pulled aside the curtain, and looked out over the soft, low hills of Caracas, where lights blinked like uncertain constellations in a city that never really stops trying. The sky was deep and quiet, and in that hush I began to wonder what this year might hold.

The night was neither spectacular nor silent — just that familiar murmur of distant horns, of life continuing without grand declaration. It reminded me that time’s turning point is not always a moment of brilliance; sometimes it’s simply a breath taken in stillness.

Much like the many mornings in foreign cities — dawn in Kabul before the streets have begun their clatter, the Atlantic’s hush at first light on Portugal’s coast, or the glow of lanterns among graves in Przemyśl — this early hour felt like a quiet threshold. There is something tender in these hours before daybreak: a sense of possibilities resting like mist over familiar terrain, fragile and waiting.

2026 will not arrive with certainty. It comes to each of us shaped by our presence, our choices, and the way we sit with both light and uncertainty. The world will carry on its vast dialogues — the troubling headlines and the quiet acts of kindness alike — and we will, as ever, find ourselves part of that ongoing, imperfect story.

In this year ahead, may we lean into questions as much as answers. May we listen more than speak. May we hold the small wonders — the kindness of a stranger, a city waking gently, a book that expands our understanding — as dearly as the grand visions we carry in our heads.

To friends near and far, to the strangers we haven’t yet met, and to the memories that keep us rooted even as we wander:

Happy 2026. May it be a year marked by clarity, compassion, presence, and a deep, abiding curiosity about what it means to be fully alive.

Christmas and End of the Year Newsletter to Family and Friends:

Dear friends,

Like for all of us, 2025 has not been an easy year.

The world feels as if it has shifted a few notches in directions that make it harder to recognise. Political changes, conflicts, and the tone of public debate have challenged the way I perceive the world, and even some of the core beliefs that have guided me for a long time, especially those connected to humanitarian work and solidarity.

I do not want to make this overly dramatic, but as I understand and observe the world, it feels as though we, as humanity, have taken a few steps closer to events whose consequences we will all have to bear. I still hope things can be reversed. That we can pause, learn from the ills of the past, and manoeuvre our societies, our politics, and ourselves away from self-destruction, self-inflicted conflict, and suffering imposed on millions.

These thoughts come from what I see around my work, from the fate of people caught in unspeakable misery, and from the fading willingness of the more fortunate among us to extend support or a helping hand. They also come simply from reading or watching the news, and sensing that our planet is quietly (or not so quietly) crying for help, while our capacity, or willingness, to listen seems to be shrinking.

It may well be that I am getting older and seeing things pessimistically where there is no reason to. That is entirely possible. But this is how I feel.

And yet.

On a personal level, 2025 has been a genuinely happy year.

It all started in Spain, with a trip to Madrid and Sevilla (https://photos.app.goo.gl/YXv3eKAdSSS8NcNr9). Cities that remind you that life should include long walks, good food, and conversations that last longer than planned. The trip was also about helping Leo settle into his new country. Many of you have been part of his support along the way, and for that I am deeply grateful. He is doing well. There are still administrative challenges around his permits (Spain remains loyal to its bureaucratic traditions), but we are taking things step by step, and optimism remains stubbornly alive.

In April, I travelled to Poland (https://photos.app.goo.gl/b9E9DixmJJ7QzYWH9 & https://photos.app.goo.gl/tSgvoXXmsRYV1ALz6) to enjoy spring in southern Poland with my mum. There is something deeply reassuring about Polish springtime: the light, the smells, the way everything seems to wake up slowly, without rushing.

From there, mum and I continued what has become our tradition: exploring the world together. First Malta (https://photos.app.goo.gl/3Hh9EDSzH22Z2biK8), sunny, layered with history, and perfect for conversations over coffee that somehow always turn philosophical. Then further east, to Asia, to explore beautiful Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan (https://photos.app.goo.gl/2T2m23SnzcmF2sMc6), with vast, generous landscapes, extraordinary cities, and a sense of scale that gently puts one’s own worries into perspective.

Back in Poland, I still managed to reconnect with my favourite places in Nowy Sącz and Kraków (https://photos.app.goo.gl/cMFjzBPNjJNGQ5v67), and with mum and friends we went on a small but delightful journey through borders and histories, visiting Cieszyn, Český Těšín, and Žilina (https://photos.app.goo.gl/dpmkKqqwJ8AiXUdx9) — three countries, one shared coffee culture, and the pleasant feeling that Europe, at least at that scale, still makes sense.

It was also during this time that Leo came to visit us in Poland from Spain. We showed him some of our favourite corners of this part of the world — Kraków, Krynica, Zakopane — and then crossed the border into Slovakia together (https://photos.app.goo.gl/u8ZRBNB1P1pk31N16). It was such a joyful time, and I loved sharing this part of Europe with him, watching familiar places through someone else’s fresh eyes.

I also discovered (or rediscovered) Krosno (https://photos.app.goo.gl/mVFT4tn9itLqDi1o7), a town that charmed me quietly and decisively. From there, it was time to return to Caracas, via Kraków, Amsterdam, and Lisbon (https://photos.app.goo.gl/dYMHiqAGjgewq6LA7) — a reminder that airports remain strange emotional spaces where excitement, nostalgia, and mild exhaustion coexist very naturally.


In August, together with my Venezuelan friend Giovanni, we travelled to Europe. We started with a day in Madrid, where we also met Leo (https://photos.app.goo.gl/x4azh9yB89y5mV26A), and then moved on to Portugal (https://photos.app.goo.gl/sh4z28YRsbEVdurA6), sunlit, generous, and slow in the best possible way. I returned to Caracas, while Giovanni stayed on for a few more months, helping us renovate the house in Portugal.

Thanks to the kindness of friends and family, Giovanni also got to see a good part of Europe — Brussels, Paris, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Kraków, Nowy Sącz, Zakopane, Krynica, and the Vysoké Tatry in Slovakia. Watching him explore places he had dreamt about for so long brought me immense joy. Few things are as moving as seeing someone experience their long-held dreams with wide-open curiosity.

At this point, it is probably fair to say that my Polish family in Nowy Sącz has become one of the biggest groups of Venezuelan enthusiasts in the world, despite never having set foot in Venezuela. Hosting Giovanni (and earlier Leo), hearing stories, sharing meals, and exchanging perspectives seems to have done the job rather effectively.

And then, of course, there is Venezuela. My beloved country. Travelling here is not always easy for administrative reasons, but whenever I could, I walked through Caracas, travelled, and marvelled at the country and its extraordinary people (https://photos.app.goo.gl/8YkSf9soc9jzPPPu6 & https://photos.app.goo.gl/XHGGAFQU9QnMMc6T7 & https://photos.app.goo.gl/KDTLuGUgbyiySLqR8 & https://photos.app.goo.gl/vByhYKcU3nBP5WXbA). Venezuela has a way of staying with you. Its warmth, humour, resilience, and generosity continue to humble me.

There was also some lovely personal news. Some of you may remember Tahir and his wife Amna welcoming little Hania into their lives. And just a few weeks ago, Tahir became a naturalised citizen of Canada, more than ten years after I first met him on the streets of Bangkok. An achievement that made me feel proud, emotional, and very aware of how long and winding some journeys are.

So yes, despite the gloom I sometimes feel when looking at the world, I also realise how incredibly lucky I am. Lucky to have a wonderful family and friends across continents. Lucky to live and work in Venezuela. Lucky to be part, in however small a way, of the lives of so many generous people.

Change is coming, though. As of August 2026, still with my organisation, I will be moving to Addis Ababa to take on responsibilities related to projects in Ethiopia. I am excited to return to eastern Africa, a region that has shaped me deeply. I am also aware that this means my time in Venezuela and the wider LAC region is slowly coming to an end. But I am still here for another six months, which means there is still plenty to enjoy, appreciate, and celebrate (including walks, conversations, and probably too much coffee).

Thank you for being part of my year, in big ways and small ones. I wish you a peaceful Christmas, moments of rest, laughter where possible, and a New Year that treats you gently.

May 2026 bring clarity, kindness, and perhaps a bit more listening, to ourselves and to the world.

With warmth and affection,
Roman

Caracas, December 2025

The streets of Caracas are glowing with Christmas.

Not in the polished, choreographed way you might see in New York or Paris — but with a joyful, almost chaotic brilliance all its own. Strings of lights stretch across streets, stars blink from apartment balconies, and inflatable Santas cling courageously to windowsills despite the tropical heat. Entire neighbourhoods seem dipped in glitter, as if the city decided to paint over its worries with colour and sparkle.

And yet, for many, Christmas here will be modest. There won’t be heaps of gifts or luxury feasts. But there will be laughter, shared meals, and togetherness — which, in the end, feels far more powerful than anything wrapped in ribbon. Caracas is a place where joy shows up quietly, insistently, even when it’s least expected.

In the background, life moves with its own rhythm — often surprising, sometimes a bit improvised. Travel plans shift. Packages arrive fashionably late. Traffic finds its own logic, with rules that seem more like gentle suggestions. Caracas teaches you to live in the moment and be flexible. But perhaps because of that, people here are incredibly kind to one another. There’s a generosity that smooths the edges of daily life: strangers hold doors, neighbours share chocolate, and friends check in not just out of politeness, but true affection.

And then, of course, there are hallacas.

I was first introduced to hallacas two years ago, during my very first Christmas in Caracas. Some dear local friends swept me into the tradition with warmth and laughter — insisting (rightly!) that one cannot understand Christmas in Venezuela without participating in la hallacada.

That year, we gathered in someone’s kitchen, armed with cutting boards, giant pots, stacks of banana leaves, and good humour. Everyone had a task. Someone chopped onions. Someone else marinated the meats. Another cleaned and softened the leaves. And there was me — the beginner — carefully spooning filling into the centre, trying not to mess up the folding technique (which is a lot harder than it looks).

The kitchen was loud and happy. Music playing, stories shared, flour on foreheads, laughter over lopsided hallacas. It reminded me of my own family holidays — different food, different climate, but the same warmth. That human instinct to gather and cook, to pass on tradition through hands and memory.

This year, I haven’t made them myself — not yet — but my adopted Venezuelan family is already well ahead of me. Preparations are in full swing. Pots are bubbling, leaves are being cleaned, and plans are being made to ensure there are plenty of hallacas for everyone when Christmas actually arrives. And I know — without doubt — that I’ll be invited to share in the eating (and maybe a little bit of wrapping duty, too).

In Caracas, the hallaca is more than a dish. It’s a symbol — of home, of family, of joy that insists on showing up, even when times are tough. I’ve come to love them. Especially when they’re reheated the next morning, with a cup of strong coffee and no urgency in the air.

And speaking of reheated things… some old memories are warming up this season too.

I recently received some bittersweet news. Bitter — because I will be leaving Venezuela, a country I have come to love in a way that’s hard to explain. Sweet — because I’ve been offered a new adventure. As of August 2026, I’ll be relocating to Ethiopia, to take on a new role in Addis Ababa.

It’s a return of sorts. I lived and worked in Ethiopia years ago, and the memories have stayed with me — the light in the highlands, the sound of Addis mornings, the incredible food (yes, I’m already dreaming of injera), and the strength and grace of the people I met there. So this next chapter feels like coming home to a place I once had to leave too soon.

But right now — I’m still in Caracas.
And I’ll be spending Christmas here — not in Poland with my family, not in Portugal where I lived for years… but here, under the warm, blinking skies of a city that’s somehow crept into my heart. And I feel lucky. Lucky for the friends I have here, for the kindness I’ve received, for the stars across the rooftops, for the hallacas in the fridge, and for one more Christmas in this vivid, resilient place.

Wishing everyone reading this a peaceful, delicious, and hallaca-filled holiday season. May it be full of kindness, surprise, and maybe even a little music in the kitchen.

A letter to friends (celebrating Tahir becoming a Canadian Citizen):

Dear Friends,

Ten years ago, in 2015, a young man entered my life in Bangkok. Vulnerable, frightened, and scarred by the cruelties he had already endured — first in Pakistan, and then again in Thailand — Tahir was, at that moment, simply fighting to survive. I had no idea then that our meeting would set in motion one of the most meaningful journeys of my life.

What began as an encounter between two strangers soon became a shared mission — not just his and mine, but one embraced by many of you. Friends, colleagues, and kind souls who refused to look away joined in to change one person’s fate. Together, we tried to make sure that fear would no longer define his existence, and to offer him the safety and dignity that every human being deserves. None of us could have imagined how difficult that road would be — nor how beautiful.

Together, we fought for recognition: for the first identity card that would prove he existed, for acknowledgment of his vulnerability, for protection status, and for the right to live without fear. We searched for solutions everywhere — Thailand, Malaysia, Europe, New Zealand, Australia, the United States — until finally, a door opened in Canada.

The hope was immense, but so was the work. There were endless forms, negotiations, appeals, and practical worries: Where would he stay? How would we fund it? Would governments listen? Could we convince them that Tahir was a person of trust and kindness, not a threat?

Years passed. And then, in 2018, I wrote this post — full of joy and relief, though shadowed by fear. For before freedom came detention. Thailand’s system demanded that even recognised refugees serve weeks behind bars before being allowed to leave. Those days were among the hardest — waiting, worrying, praying that he would make it through. And then he did.

He landed in Canada — fragile, hopeful, and determined. From there, a new chapter began: learning, adapting, finding work, making friends, building a new life step by step. There were challenges and tears, but also moments of laughter, new beginnings, and the gradual rediscovery of trust.

Over the years, Tahir became independent. He found stability, started to support others in his community, met the love of his life, married, and eventually welcomed little Hania into the world. And now, ten years after that first meeting on a hot Bangkok street, Tahir has become a citizen of Canada.

I find myself thinking not only of him, but of all of you — friends, colleagues, and kind strangers — who helped make this happen. Some of you were there from the very beginning, others joined along the way. You offered legal help, donations, encouragement, and compassion when it was most needed. You opened doors, vouched for him, stood by him. You helped one human being reclaim his life.

Thank you for that.

And thank you, Tahir — for your courage, humility, and faith. For teaching us what resilience really means. For never giving in to bitterness or hate. For showing that even after unimaginable suffering, kindness can still win.

The world is loud and fast, and it rarely stops to celebrate. So let us pause for a moment now — to celebrate this success, this friendship, this quiet triumph of humanity.

With gratitude and love,
Roman

The Season of Light and Silence
Caracas, November 2025

I’ve always loved cemeteries.
Not in a morbid way, but as places of quiet beauty — spaces where time softens and the world whispers. I think this love began in childhood, rooted deep in Polish soil, in those sacred November evenings when my mother and I would walk among candles flickering in the dusk. All Saints’ Day was never sad. It was golden.

Every year, around this time, cemeteries back home glow with thousands of lanterns — amber lights floating in the autumn mist. The air smells of fallen leaves, wax, and pine. Cold often arrives early. Sometimes snow. But somehow, it’s still colourful — chrysanthemums in fiery orange, crimson, and white, resting beside names carved in stone. People move gently. They speak in low voices. They clean the graves, place flowers, pause. There’s reverence in the air, and warmth, even in the frost. These are the days I carry with me wherever I go.

This year, I am in Caracas.

Last week, seeking that same spirit, I visited Cementerio del Este. It’s a very different kind of cemetery — wide, open, modern, without the stone angels or heavy ironwork I know so well. But it sits high on a hill, overlooking the city like a guardian. The silence there is lighter, more spacious, filled with tropical birdsong and the shimmer of heat. The green is lush, alive, unseasonal by European standards — but something in it stirred the same stillness in me.

I walked slowly among the graves, letting the names speak in silence. I thought of people I’ve lost — some long ago, others more recent — and of how memory works its gentle alchemy. The body may be gone, but the presence remains. In a phrase. In a gesture. In the warmth that returns, uninvited, on a quiet afternoon in October.

And somehow, despite the heat and the palms and the very un-November sun, I found myself fully inside the mood I cherish so deeply — the spirit of Wszystkich Świętych, the Polish All Saints’ Day. A season not of mourning, but of honouring. Of remembering. Of walking beside those who came before, if only for a few moments more.

Later that day, I shared a meal nearby with a friend. There were traditional Venezuelan dances, music, colour — as if the city itself wanted to remind me that life, too, continues. That remembrance can be joyful. That silence can be part of celebration.

I had hoped to be travelling at the end of the year — to Panama, perhaps even to Canada. But life, as it does, shifted. Work took unexpected turns. Plans changed. And so, it seems I’ll be staying in Caracas a while longer. I won’t be visiting friends just yet — but I will have the privilege of being here, in this resilient, surprising, vivid city. A city that offers its own kind of light.

And maybe that’s the deeper lesson of this season:
That presence matters more than place.
That memory travels with us.
That beauty finds its own way in.

The Music I Can’t Quite Hear — And Still Try to Sing
(On Language, Age, and the Joy of Trying)

Lately, I’ve begun learning French. Again.

I say “again” because like many things in life, it’s not the first time I’ve tried — only this time, I’m older, a little more patient, and perhaps a little more forgiving with myself.

French is proving difficult. Not because of its verbs or genders, or even the grammar that sneaks up on you from behind elegant turns of phrase. No — the real challenge is the sound. I’ve always been partially deaf, and now, in my fifties, my ears have grown no more cooperative. French is all breath and nuance, soft corners and hidden consonants. Whatever I try to say comes out heavy with a Polish accent, my vowels shaped by a lifetime of Slavic rhythm. I suspect it will always sound like that — and that’s all right.

This isn’t my first language adventure. Years ago, in Angola, I began learning Portuguese — out of necessity, at first. The language came wrapped in dust, in laughter, in late-night conversations and crowded markets. Later, in Mozambique, it deepened. I grew more confident. It became a part of my working life, my friendships, even my dreams.

Then came Spanish, which I picked up in anticipation of my posting to Panama. I studied hard, and this time, I learned it properly. For a while, my Portuguese and Spanish managed to live peacefully side by side. But then came Latin America in full — Venezuela, Colombia, conversations that flowed too fast — and now, like many in this region, I speak Portuñol. Portuguese with a Spanish heart. Spanish with Portuguese bones. A beautiful mess.

Along the way, there were other languages too. Russian, which fascinated me with its logic and weight. Danish, which I encountered unexpectedly during my training years in Denmark. Danish always felt like a language spoken from the back of the throat, half-swallowed by the North Sea winds — and yet it became familiar in its own strange way.

None of these languages came easily. Some arrived out of duty, others through love, and a few simply by accident. But each of them left something behind — a way of seeing, of listening, of connecting.

Now, as I wrestle with French pronunciation — the subtle u, the vanishing r, the nasal vowels that float just out of reach — I realise it’s no longer about fluency. It’s about presence. About keeping part of myself curious and alive. About accepting the limits of my hearing, my accent, my age — and still showing up.

Sometimes, I close the book and just listen. To a podcast I barely understand, to a passing conversation in a café, to my own voice trying to mimic a sound that doesn’t quite land. It’s humbling. And strangely beautiful.

We don’t always need to master a language to let it change us.

Caracas continues to move at full speed — the pace of work rarely slows, and the days often blur into one another. Meetings, decisions, documents, calls — a rhythm that demands attention, precision, and, above all, presence. Lately, much of my focus has turned toward preparations for the rotation that lies ahead in 2026. Though still some months away, the groundwork is already being laid. Transition is never just a logistical task — it’s an emotional one too, full of small goodbyes and quiet reflections, even before departure begins.

In November, I’ll be travelling to Panama for a seminar — a welcome change of scenery and an opportunity to reconnect with colleagues and friends in a setting that feels both familiar and refreshingly different. The region continues to offer its own blend of intensity and grace, and I look forward to the conversations that will take place there.

Outside the office hours, another journey unfolds: my writing project. The memoir continues to grow, word by word, chapter by chapter. Memory is a complex companion — sometimes vivid and immediate, sometimes hesitant and cloaked in mist. But I keep returning to the page, trusting the process, allowing stories to take shape in their own time. It’s a strange and beautiful undertaking — part excavation, part offering.

Like many of us, I follow political developments around the world — and, like many, I feel a growing unease. The global headlines are often troubling, and the sense of powerlessness can be overwhelming. Much of it lies far beyond my influence. So I try to find balance — to stay informed, yes, but not consumed. I make a conscious effort to step away from the screen, to walk, to meet friends, to engage in moments that restore.

In that sense, Caracas is generous. Walking here is easy, and often enchanting. Bougainvillaea spills over walls, the scent of arepas drifts from corner shops, and the city’s light shifts beautifully across the hills. These small walks — these small escapes — offer their own kind of resilience.

Lately, I’ve also begun learning French. It’s going slowly — not because of the grammar or vocabulary, but the pronunciation. That, it seems, is a mountain of its own. Whatever I try to say comes out rather mangled, heavy with my Polish accent. I suspect it may always sound that way. At over fifty, picking up new accents feels like coaxing music out of a stubborn old instrument. But I keep trying, if only for the joy of learning and the humbling reminder of how difficult language can be.

If you’re curious to follow my writing journey, I invite you to visit the dedicated page for the project:
👉 Memoir of a Wandering Spirit

As always, thank you for reading — and for walking with me, in small ways, through these many crossings.

Here comes the newsletter sent to friends:

ESP: La versión en español sigue a la versión en inglés
POL: Polska wersja na końcu wiadomości


English Version

Dear Friends,

I have just returned from my summer in Portugal, and it felt like stepping into a painting made of light. The days there gave me exactly what I needed: time to breathe, to gather myself, to feel sun on my skin and sea wind in my lungs. There were long afternoons wandering through whitewashed towns, evenings with friends around the table, conversations that lasted until night deepened, and mornings where the Atlantic seemed to hold the horizon still. Portugal always carries a piece of my heart, and this summer it gave me back the strength I hadn’t realised I was missing.

Back in Caracas, life returns to its rhythm of work and responsibility. Yet, outside that daily rhythm, there is another pulse that drives me now more than ever: the writing of Memoir of a Wandering Spirit. What began as a quiet idea has grown into a journey of its own — one that pulls me deep into memories, landscapes, and people who shaped me. Many of you have offered encouragement already, and I want to thank you. Your words remind me that this story matters beyond myself, and they keep me moving forward.

So far, the manuscript carries me from a childhood in Biegonice, a village wrapped in orchards and coal smoke, into the long corridors of hospitals — Prokocim, Konstancin, Zakopane. These early chapters are filled with both confinement and unexpected wonder: nurses who became storytellers, doctors who weighed life against risk, and the operation during Martial Law that saved me.

From there the story opens outward. School years in Nowy Sącz brought letters that travelled further than I could, pen-friends who showed me the world through paper and ink, and first encounters with love and loss. Early adulthood was restless: translation work in offices that felt too small, the struggle of London — sometimes homeless, often hungry, but never willing to let go of the dream of studying abroad. Kraków followed, its classrooms austere, its streets romantic, but its promise never quite fitting — like the second-hand suit I wore to my first lecture, stiff and ill-matched.

College time in Denmark was different. There I found not only an education but a community: growing food, debating through the night, preparing to travel to the wider world. From there the world broke open — India’s dazzling chaos and aching contradictions, Pakistan’s shadows where danger came too close, Iran and Turkey where the journey home became both pilgrimage and test. These travels changed me — not in one moment, but in a slow unfolding of awe, exhaustion, and the recognition that borders divide far more than land.

Later chapters bring quieter passages: Iceland, where silence was sacred and friendships anchored me; Canada, where family ties offered warmth but belonging felt incomplete. Then came Angola: Quissala’s orphanage, Luanda’s streets pulsing with contradictions, and Pedro, a boy once stolen into war who longed to become a teacher. His story became one of the most powerful I have ever carried.

The narrative moves again: Finland’s snowbound stillness, New York’s restless skyline, Nowy Sącz’s return, and then Paris, where humanitarian training rooms and late-night walks by the Seine opened the next chapter of my life. Afghanistan followed — Kabul at dawn, the weight of silence in Ghazi Stadium, the children in the wards. And then Sudan, where the Nile divided not just land but lives: Khartoum’s boulevards, Wau’s hunger wards, the sound of bombs in the distance, and the fragile miracle of survival.

Here are a few glimpses from the draft, to give you a taste of its voice:

“Kacper was born in a house that smelled of bread and coal, in a village with a name like a poem: Biegonice. It clung to the edge of Nowy Sącz like a quiet question, wrapped in orchards and seasons and neighbours who remembered the war as if it were yesterday.”

“It was powerful because it was ordinary — ordinary for Luanda, but so utterly extraordinary to him. He realised, for the first time with painful clarity, that what seemed like destitution to him was daily life for the people around him. It wasn’t a spectacle. It wasn’t exceptional. It was simply life — ordinary in ways he had never understood.”

“Afghanistan had taught him many things, but that day it taught him this: cruelty can wear the face of your neighbour, and kindness can live in the same heart that has seen too much to know the difference. And perhaps the hardest truth of all — that some things you carry away from a place are not its mountains.”

“Beyond the runway, the Nile curved through the city, broad and unhurried, carrying with it the weight of a war that refused to end.”

So far, this is where the manuscript has taken me. But much remains ahead — finishing the first draft, filling the gaps, then returning again and again through the patient, difficult process of editing and shaping until the story finds its true form.

For now, I carry on, guided by memory, by fragments of journals and photographs, but also by the encouragement many of you have given me. Thank you for that — it means more than I can express.

I hope you, too, have found rest in these months: a summer in the north, a winter in the south, moments that gave you pause and renewal. I would love to hear how you’ve been, what carried you through, what surprised you.

With warmth,
Roman

⸻

Versión en Español

Queridos amigos,

Acabo de regresar de mi verano en Portugal, y fue como entrar en un cuadro hecho de luz. Los días allí me dieron lo que más necesitaba: tiempo para respirar, para recomponerme, para sentir el sol en la piel y el viento del mar en los pulmones. Hubo largas tardes paseando por pueblos encalados, noches con amigos alrededor de la mesa, conversaciones que se alargaban hasta bien entrada la noche, y mañanas en que el Atlántico parecía detener el horizonte. Portugal siempre guarda un pedazo de mi corazón, y este verano me devolvió una fuerza que no sabía que había perdido.

De vuelta en Caracas, la vida retoma su ritmo de trabajo y responsabilidad. Sin embargo, fuera de ese ritmo cotidiano, hay otro pulso que me impulsa ahora más que nunca: la escritura de Memoir of a Wandering Spirit. Lo que empezó como una idea silenciosa se ha convertido en un viaje propio — uno que me lleva profundamente a recuerdos, paisajes y personas que me marcaron. Varios de vosotros ya me habéis ofrecido palabras de ánimo, y os lo agradezco de corazón. Vuestro apoyo me recuerda que esta historia importa más allá de mí, y me da fuerzas para seguir.

Hasta ahora, el manuscrito me ha llevado desde la infancia en Biegonice, un pueblo rodeado de huertos y humo de carbón, hasta los largos pasillos de hospitales — Prokocim, Konstancin, Zakopane. Esos primeros capítulos están llenos tanto de encierro como de maravillas inesperadas: enfermeras que se hicieron cuentacuentos, médicos que pesaban la vida contra el riesgo, y la operación en plena Ley Marcial que me salvó.

Después la historia se abre. Los años escolares en Nowy Sącz trajeron cartas que viajaban más lejos de lo que yo podía, amigos por correspondencia que me mostraron el mundo con papel y tinta, y los primeros encuentros con el amor y la pérdida. La primera adultez fue inquieta: trabajos de traducción en oficinas demasiado pequeñas, las luchas en Londres — a veces sin techo, a menudo con hambre, pero nunca renunciando al sueño de estudiar en el extranjero. Luego vino Cracovia, con aulas austeras y calles románticas, pero con promesas que nunca llegaron a encajar — como el traje de segunda mano que llevaba a mis primeras clases, rígido y desajustado.

El tiempo de universidad en Dinamarca fue distinto. Allí encontré no solo una educación, sino una comunidad: cultivar la tierra, debatir hasta la madrugada, prepararme para viajar por el mundo. Desde allí, el horizonte se abrió: la India deslumbrante y contradictoria, Pakistán con sombras donde el peligro estaba demasiado cerca, Irán y Turquía, donde el camino de regreso se volvió peregrinaje y prueba. Esos viajes me cambiaron poco a poco — no en un solo momento, sino en un lento despliegue de asombro, cansancio y la certeza de que las fronteras dividen mucho más que la tierra.

Los capítulos siguientes traen pasajes más tranquilos: Islandia, donde el silencio era sagrado y las amistades me sostenían; Canadá, donde los lazos familiares ofrecieron calor, aunque sin un verdadero sentido de pertenencia. Luego llegó Angola: el orfanato de Quissala, las calles de Luanda palpitando contradicciones, y Pedro, un muchacho arrancado por la guerra que soñaba con ser maestro. Su historia se convirtió en una de las más poderosas que he llevado conmigo.

La narrativa se mueve de nuevo: la quietud nevada de Finlandia, el horizonte inquieto de Nueva York, el regreso a Nowy Sącz, y luego París, donde las salas de formación humanitaria y los paseos nocturnos junto al Sena abrieron el siguiente capítulo de mi vida. Después llegó Afganistán — Kabul al amanecer, el peso del silencio en el estadio Ghazi, los niños en las salas de hospital. Y luego Sudán, donde el Nilo no solo divide tierras sino vidas: los bulevares de Jartum, las salas de desnutrición en Wau, el sonido de bombas a lo lejos, y el milagro frágil de la supervivencia.

Aquí comparto algunos fragmentos del borrador, para daros un sabor de su voz:

«Kacper nació en una casa que olía a pan y carbón, en un pueblo con un nombre como un poema: Biegonice. Se aferraba al borde de Nowy Sącz como una pregunta silenciosa, rodeado de huertos, estaciones y vecinos que recordaban la guerra como si hubiera sido ayer.»

«Era poderoso porque era ordinario — ordinario para Luanda, pero tan absolutamente extraordinario para él. Se dio cuenta, por primera vez con dolorosa claridad, de que lo que a él le parecía miseria era la vida cotidiana de la gente que lo rodeaba.»

«Afganistán le enseñó muchas cosas, pero ese día le enseñó esto: la crueldad puede llevar el rostro de tu vecino, y la bondad puede vivir en el mismo corazón que ha visto demasiado como para distinguir ya la diferencia.»

«Más allá de la pista, el Nilo se curvaba por la ciudad, amplio e imperturbable, llevando consigo el peso de una guerra que se negaba a terminar.»

Hasta aquí ha llegado el manuscrito. Pero queda aún mucho por hacer — terminar el primer borrador, llenar los huecos, y luego el paciente proceso de editar y dar forma para que la historia pueda vivir en la página.

Por ahora sigo adelante, guiado por recuerdos, fragmentos de diarios y fotografías, pero también por el ánimo que muchos de vosotros me habéis dado. Gracias — significa más de lo que puedo expresar.

Espero que también vosotros hayáis encontrado descanso en estos meses: un verano en el norte, un invierno en el sur, momentos que os hayan regalado pausa y renovación. Me encantaría saber cómo estáis, qué os ha sostenido, qué os ha sorprendido.

Con cariño,
Roman

⸻

Polska wersja

Kochani,

Właśnie wróciłem z lata spędzonego w Portugalii i było to jak wejście w obraz namalowany światłem. Te dni dały mi dokładnie to, czego potrzebowałem: czas, by odetchnąć, nabrać sił, poczuć słońce na skórze i wiatr znad oceanu w płucach. Były długie popołudnia w bielonych miasteczkach, wieczory z przyjaciółmi przy stole, rozmowy przeciągające się do późnej nocy i poranki, gdy Atlantyk zdawał się zatrzymywać horyzont. Portugalia zawsze nosi we mnie kawałek serca, a tego lata podarowała mi energię, której brak uświadomiłem sobie dopiero, gdy ją odzyskałem.

Z powrotem w Caracas życie toczy się swoim rytmem pracy i obowiązków. A jednak poza tym codziennym biegiem jest drugi puls, który prowadzi mnie mocniej niż kiedykolwiek: pisanie Memoir of a Wandering Spirit. To, co zaczęło się od cichej myśli, przerodziło się w podróż samą w sobie — w głąb pamięci, krajobrazów i ludzi, którzy mnie ukształtowali. Wielu z Was podzieliło się ze mną słowami wsparcia i chcę za to szczerze podziękować. To przypomina mi, że ta historia ma sens także poza mną samym i daje siłę, by pisać dalej.

Do tej pory rękopis prowadzi od dzieciństwa w Biegonicach, wiosce pachnącej chlebem i węglem, przez długie korytarze szpitali w Prokocimiu, Konstancinie i Zakopanem. W tych pierwszych rozdziałach obok bólu i ograniczeń pojawiają się też cudowne chwile: pielęgniarki snujące opowieści, lekarze ważący życie z ryzykiem, i operacja w czasie Stanu Wojennego, która ocaliła mi przyszłość.

Później historia otwiera się szerzej. Lata szkolne w Nowym Sączu przyniosły listy wędrujące dalej niż ja sam, przyjaźnie korespondencyjne, które pokazywały świat na papierze, a także pierwsze spotkania z miłością i ze stratą. Wczesna dorosłość była pełna niepokoju: tłumaczenia w biurach za ciasnych, by pomieścić marzenia, trudne lata w Londynie — czasem bez dachu nad głową, często głodny, ale nigdy bez marzenia o studiach za granicą. Potem Kraków — z surowymi salami wykładowymi i romantycznymi ulicami, ale też obietnicami, które nigdy nie pasowały, jak garnitur z drugiej ręki, który włożyłem na pierwszy wykład, sztywny i niedopasowany.

Czas studiów w Danii był zupełnie inny. Tam znalazłem nie tylko edukację, ale i wspólnotę: pracę w polu, nocne dyskusje, przygotowania do podróży po świecie. Stamtąd droga zawiodła mnie dalej: Indie — olśniewające i pełne sprzeczności, Pakistan z cieniem zagrożenia, Iran i Turcja, gdzie powrót do Europy stał się jednocześnie pielgrzymką i próbą. Te podróże zmieniały mnie powoli — nie w jednym momencie, lecz w stopniowym otwieraniu się na zachwyt, zmęczenie i świadomość, że granice dzielą znacznie więcej niż tylko ziemię.

Kolejne rozdziały to spokojniejsze przejścia: Islandia, gdzie cisza była świętością, a przyjaźnie dawały zakorzenienie; Kanada, gdzie więzi rodzinne dawały ciepło, choć bez poczucia pełnej przynależności. Potem Angola: sierociniec w Quissali, ulice Luandy pulsujące sprzecznościami, i Pedro — chłopiec zabrany przez wojnę, który marzył, by zostać nauczycielem. Jego historia stała się jedną z najważniejszych, które niosę w sobie.

Opowieść biegnie dalej: śnieżna Finlandia, niepokój Nowego Jorku, powrót do Nowego Sącza i wreszcie Paryż — z salami szkoleniowymi organizacji humanitarnych i nocnymi spacerami nad Sekwaną, które otworzyły nowy rozdział mojego życia. Potem Afganistan — Kabul o świcie, ciężar ciszy na stadionie Ghazi, dzieci w szpitalnych salach. I Sudan, gdzie Nil dzieli nie tylko ziemię, lecz także ludzkie losy: ulice Chartumu, oddziały niedożywionych dzieci w Wau, huk bomb w oddali i krucha codzienność przetrwania.

Kilka fragmentów rękopisu, aby dać Wam przedsmak jego głosu:

„Kacper urodził się w domu, który pachniał chlebem i węglem, we wsi o nazwie jak wiersz: Biegonice. Przylegała do Nowego Sącza jak ciche pytanie, otulona sadami, porami roku i sąsiadami, którzy pamiętali wojnę tak, jakby była wczoraj.”

„Było to potężne, ponieważ było zwyczajne — zwyczajne dla Luandy, ale dla niego absolutnie niezwykłe. Zrozumiał po raz pierwszy, z bolesną jasnością, że to, co jemu wydawało się nędzą, dla ludzi wokół było codziennością.”

„Afganistan nauczył go wielu rzeczy, ale tego dnia nauczył go tego: okrucieństwo może nosić twarz sąsiada, a dobroć może żyć w tym samym sercu, które widziało już zbyt wiele, by umieć rozróżniać.”

„Za pasem startowym Nil zakrzywiał się przez miasto, szeroki i niewzruszony, niosąc ze sobą ciężar wojny, która nie chciała się skończyć.”

Na razie tyle udało się napisać. Ale wciąż czeka mnie ogrom pracy — ukończenie pierwszego rękopisu, uzupełnienie brakujących fragmentów, a potem powolny, cierpliwy proces redagowania i nadawania historii ostatecznego kształtu.

Idę dalej, prowadzony przez pamięć, przez fragmenty dzienników i fotografie, ale także przez wsparcie, które od wielu z Was już otrzymałem. Dziękuję — znaczy to dla mnie więcej, niż potrafię wyrazić.

Mam nadzieję, że i Wy znaleźliście w ostatnich miesiącach chwilę odpoczynku — lato na północy, zimę na południu, momenty, które pozwoliły się zatrzymać i odetchnąć. Bardzo chciałbym usłyszeć, co u Was, co Was niosło i co Was zaskoczyło.

Serdecznie Was pozdrawiam,
Roman

Just a few more days to go — and I can already feel that familiar spark of excitement building. Soon, I’ll be back in Portugal, even if it’s only for a little over a week. Time will be short, but there’s something about returning to a place that feels like home that makes every moment count.

I can already picture myself wandering the cobbled streets of Óbidos, with its whitewashed houses, bright flowers spilling from balconies, and that medieval charm that never gets old. There will be drives through the countryside, lingering lunches, and those quiet moments by the ocean that I’ve missed so much.

There’s another reason this trip feels extra special — I’ll be catching up with dear friends I haven’t seen in far too long, and this time, I’ll also be sharing it all with some of my Venezuelan friends. Hosting them in a place I love will make the experience richer, and I can’t wait to see it through their eyes for the first time.

Short trip or not, I know it will be packed with laughter, good food, and that easy joy that comes from being in the right place with the right people.

Over the past months, I’ve been immersed in writing my memoir — a journey through the many places, people, and moments that have shaped my life. Today, I found myself working on a chapter that takes me back to the very start of my humanitarian career, in Afghanistan in 1999–2000, under Taliban rule.

With World Humanitarian Day approaching, I want to share this passage with you. Though written as part of a fictionalised narrative, it is not far from the truth. The people, the challenges, and the choices reflect realities I have witnessed — impossible situations, extraordinary courage, and suffering that often defies words.

I hope it will spark reflection on what some people must endure simply to survive.


Over the next days, Kacper was taken, step by step, into the quiet heart of GNI’s work in Kabul. There was the ward in the Indira Gandhi Hospital — crowded, hot, and heavy with the sharp, medicinal scent that clung to the air — the smell of a place where life was held together by thin threads — and then the scattered nutritional centres in neighbourhoods further out, where the dust was thicker, the streets narrower, and the war seemed to press closer against the walls. Some were on the edge of the city, almost touching the mountains; others were tucked into quiet courtyards where children’s voices carried through cracked wooden doors.

He was never alone. Amélie, calm and precise, would speak in the measured rhythm of someone used to explaining difficult things. She unfolded the technical side of the work — the weighing, the measuring, the careful re-feeding — until he could almost recite the process himself. Jawed was the other constant. He was the translator not only of language but of the unspoken rules that kept them safe: how to greet an elder, when to lower your gaze, what to say and what never to say under Taliban rule.

It was Jawed who explained the boundaries — that once inside the safety of a GNI compound, the walls gave more than shelter; they gave space for women to be seen. Nurses, doctors, cleaners — their faces uncovered, their voices strong, their laughter carrying in from the courtyards — would welcome him into their world. Under the folds of their burqas were women with fierce intelligence, quick humour, and the quiet defiance of those who refused to stop saving lives.

Kacper listened to them, and slowly began to understand that malnutrition was not simply hunger. Hunger could be satisfied with a meal. Malnutrition was a slow, invisible thief that began its work long before a child’s first cry.

It began in the body of a mother already weakened by years of scarcity, her bones light from not enough food, her blood thin from lack of iron. Poverty was the soil it grew in, but there were other roots: the weight of cultural rules that placed women last at the table, the absence of healthcare that could catch a problem early, the exhaustion of carrying and birthing children too close together. A malnourished mother gives birth to a child already fragile, sometimes too small, sometimes without the strength to suckle.

Without enough food or the right food, she cannot produce enough milk. Without clean water, illness comes quickly. Diarrhoea drains what little strength the child has, fever burns through reserves, a cough lingers and eats away at the body’s defences. Slowly, weight slips away until skin hangs loose over bone, or swelling from oedema gives the false impression of health while the body is collapsing inside.

Malnutrition was not one thing, Kacper realised. It was an entire chain of events — a web of hunger, illness, and neglect, tangled further by tradition and inequality. And in the worst cases, it became a sentence.

There was a line between life and death, and GNI’s work stood on it. Amélie explained that when a child arrived in the worst stage — severely malnourished and unable to digest normal food — giving them a plate of rice or bread could kill them. “Their bodies cannot handle it,” she said softly. “The machinery has shut down. You must wake it slowly.”

That was where F75 and F100 came in — powders mixed with clean water to make a liquid that was not milk in the ordinary sense, but a carefully balanced formula of sugars, oils, proteins, vitamins, and minerals. F75 was the starting point, a gentle reintroduction of fuel to a body on the brink. It gave just enough energy for the organs to begin working again without overloading them. When the child’s body had stabilised, they moved to F100 — richer, more calorific, building weight and strength day by day.

“This is not milk,” Jawed told him, holding up a silver packet in the warehouse days later. “This is a key. Without it, the lock stays closed. If the supply fails — if it is delayed, lost, or runs out — you close the door on them.

Kacper could see it now — how every link mattered. A mother’s decision to bring her child. A nurse’s skill with the feeding cup. A cleaner’s care in keeping disease away. A driver’s ability to get supplies through a checkpoint. His own responsibility to keep the warehouse stocked. If one link broke, the child did not make it.

And then there was the cruelty of culture. Fathers, sometimes without malice but bound by old beliefs, would refuse treatment — especially for girls. Girls ate last, and least. To survive to the age of five was almost a miracle for them. Even then, survival came with scars: stunted growth, damaged minds, and bodies less able to fight the next illness that came along.

Yet in these centres, miracles were made daily. The women of GNI — nurses who fought for each tiny patient, doctors who argued with fathers until they relented, cleaners who brought comfort to grieving mothers — held the line. They treated infections. They buried the children they could not save. They stood in the gap between death and survival, teaching families not only how to pull a child back from the edge but how to keep them from returning to it. They taught with whatever the context allowed: how to make nourishing food from the smallest gardens, how to store clean water, how to use seeds and scraps to keep hunger at bay. And, quietly, how to find strength if the danger in the home could not be escaped.

It was only later, after walking out of one of the centres, that Kacper found his thoughts drifting to Zakopane. To the smell of disinfectant in the wards, the creak of the wooden floors, the way his mother’s face lit up when she was allowed to visit. He had thought, as a child, that he understood what it meant to fight for life — and in his own way, he had. His condition had been complex, the treatments painful, the path uncertain. He had survived because others had fought for him: his family, his doctors, even strangers far away.

But here, the fight was different. Stripped bare. This was not about intricate surgery or rare medicines. It was about whether a child could eat enough to live. Whether the water they drank would keep them alive or kill them. Whether a mother could keep her baby nourished long enough to see another season.

His battle had been hard, but it had never been this. He had never had to wonder if there would be food on the plate or clean water in the cup. And he knew now that the difference was not a measure of whose suffering weighed more, but of how survival could depend on the most basic things — and how, without them, the margin between life and death could be as thin as a spoonful of F75.

And as he walked back through Kabul’s dust, past walls pitted with years of war and markets alive with the stubborn hum of life, he felt something shifting inside him — a quiet tether being tied, thread by thread, to this wounded, unyielding city.

Yes, you guessed it — Kacper is me.

As 19 August approaches, I find myself pausing more than usual, reflecting on what it truly means to mark World Humanitarian Day.

This year feels different — heavier, perhaps. The humanitarian needs across the world are staggering, overwhelming in their scale and urgency. From conflict zones to climate disasters, millions are left without safety, food, or shelter. And yet, as these needs grow, the world seems to lag ever further behind in its response.

For many of us who work in this space, it’s not just about underfunded appeals or dwindling resources — it’s the quiet, corrosive shift in how humanitarianism itself is treated. Too often, aid is manipulated for political gain, instrumentalised to serve agendas that have little to do with saving lives. Worse still, we see attempts to criminalise humanitarian action, to make compassion suspect, to brand the act of offering a helping hand as something to fear or punish.

What cuts deepest is that sometimes, these pressures and abuses come not from hostile regimes but from governments and countries often perceived as open, democratic, and supportive of humanitarian principles — places once seen as allies of humanitarianism. It’s painful. It shakes the very foundations of what drew many of us to this work — the belief that solidarity transcends borders, politics, and prejudice.

Even more heartbreaking is how often we see human suffering deliberately used as a weapon. Starvation, displacement, and the denial of medical care are tactics in conflicts around the world. They are not accidents of war; they are strategies — ones that leave civilians trapped, suffering, and voiceless.

All of this goes hand in hand with an increasing lack of respect for International Humanitarian Law (IHL). In simple terms, IHL is a set of rules designed to limit the horrors of war: to protect civilians, hospitals, schools, and aid workers; to ensure that even in conflict, some lines must not be crossed. It exists not as lofty theory but as a hard-earned safeguard, built on the lessons of unimaginable past atrocities.

I cannot stress enough that upholding IHL is everyone’s business. We are all responsible for demanding accountability from those who violate it. Because when these protections collapse, it is not abstract ideals that suffer — it is people.

I’ve seen it repeatedly: places that seemed prosperous and safe, where life felt unshakably normal, suddenly plunged into crisis, into war. Entire societies that believed “this cannot happen here” found themselves dependent on humanitarian aid, clinging to the protections of IHL.

This is why World Humanitarian Day matters. It is not just a date on a calendar but a quiet act of defiance — a reminder to ourselves and to the world that compassion cannot be outlawed, that humanity cannot be politicised away, and that even when institutions falter, individual acts of solidarity still matter.

August has slipped quietly into Caracas. The heat feels different now — thicker somehow, heavier — as if the city itself has paused to catch its breath. Streets are a little emptier; neighbours talk about escapes to the coast, chasing breezes and salt air. Even the city’s usual hum seems muted, softened by the weight of midsummer.

I stay behind, windows open to a humid stillness, watching afternoon storms roll over Ávila. Work continues, as it must, but my mind drifts elsewhere. Across the Atlantic, Portugal waits — and more specifically, Óbidos.

Óbidos is a different kind of refuge. A place of quiet stone streets, whitewashed houses trimmed in blue and yellow, and vines spilling over ancient walls. I remember walking its narrow lanes before, feeling history under my feet — a medieval rhythm that makes you slow down without even noticing. It isn’t loud like Lisbon or Porto; it’s a place that holds you gently, whispering rather than shouting.

What I’m dreaming of most is the coastline nearby — the sweep of Peniche with its rugged cliffs and fishermen mending nets by the docks, the endless stretch of sand at Foz do Arelho where the lagoon meets the restless Atlantic, and Nazaré with its dramatic waves crashing like liquid thunder against the shore. These places carry a raw, untamed beauty that I’ve missed. The Atlantic air feels different there — saltier, cooler, more alive.

This time, I’ll have a rental car, which means freedom to wander between these spots at my own pace, to pause at a hidden café for grilled sardines, to stand alone on a windswept beach at dusk and watch the tide pull everything away. Portugal always feels like a homecoming now, more so since I used my Portuguese passport for the first time earlier this year. Carrying it in my pocket isn’t just a document — it’s part of a story that still feels like it’s unfolding.

Travel is strange this way — even before you pack a bag, it reshapes you. I find myself noticing details of the everyday differently, as if my senses are practicing for something they know is coming. The light on Caracas rooftops, the echo of footsteps in quiet corridors, the smell of mangoes in the late afternoon heat — all tiny reminders that movement is life, that journeys, whether across oceans or through memory, keep us awake to the world.

For now, August holds me still in Venezuela. But on the horizon, Óbidos is waiting. Its ancient walls, its Atlantic winds, its calm streets where I can finally take a long breath. A different sun, a different breeze, a pause of another kind — one that feels very much needed.

It started with a plan: to do nothing.

A noble, deeply necessary plan. A Saturday to be gently idle, unbothered, and gloriously unscheduled. I had visions of reading, staring out the window, maybe making a heroic decision like not checking emails until at least lunchtime.

Naturally, it all fell apart.

First, I opened the manuscript — just for a minute. And, well… five hours later, I was still there, knee-deep in memories, scribbles, edits, footnotes, and one or two “what was I even trying to say here?” moments. The book — Memoir of a Wandering Spirit — clearly didn’t get the memo about Saturdays off. But it felt good. Tangled and demanding, yes, but good. It’s moving forward. Slowly. Honestly.

Then came a moment of travel admin: I booked a rental car for my upcoming trip to Lisbon — which, yes, is finally happening! Tickets are secured, and the thought of wandering through Óbidos with a bica in hand is keeping me more grounded than any meditation app could.

But those small acts of productivity set a tone. Suddenly I was responding to messages I’d planned to ignore, and — the real twist of fate — I agreed to accompany Giovanni on the weekly food shopping mission.

Let me be clear: this was not part of any restful plan. But somehow, I found myself in a busy Caracas supermarket, negotiating over plantains and trying to convince a young woman in overly cool sunglasses that it really wasn’t a good idea to keep her dog — however cute — inside the shopping trolley. “People put human food in there,” I ventured gently. She did not appreciate my argument. Giovanni, of course, was in his element — charming, chatty, completely unbothered. I, on the other hand, was clinging to my shopping basket like it was a lifebuoy.

And yet… it wasn’t terrible. The chaos had its rhythm. The shelves offered stories. And the mangoes were cheaper than last week. There’s a kind of intimacy in the ordinary when you let yourself notice it.

So no — I didn’t rest. I didn’t read. I didn’t sip tea on a quiet balcony like some aspirational Instagram account.

But I worked on the book. I booked my wheels for Portugal. I survived the shopping trip. And I laughed more than once.

Not bad for a Saturday that was supposed to be nothing at all.

As Memoir of a Wandering Spirit continues to take shape, I’m excited to share that I’ve created a new space dedicated entirely to this writing journey.

📚 The new sub-page will be the place where I post updates on the progress of the book — including selected extracts, behind-the-scenes notes, and (whenever possible) a few fun facts and photographs to offer context to the stories I’m telling.

The idea is to make it easier for those of you following the project to keep track of what’s unfolding — whether you’re just curious about the process, interested in the places and moments described, or simply rooting for me from afar.

At this stage, the page is still very much under construction, but new content will be appearing there over the coming days.

Thank you for your encouragement, curiosity, and for accompanying me on this rather long (and winding) road of writing.

More soon!

I’m sitting in my Caracas apartment with the windows open to the sticky warmth of the afternoon, a mug of strong coffee growing cold on the desk beside me. The city hums in the background — not too loudly today — and my thoughts are travelling far.

It’s planning season: I’m looking ahead to the next few weeks and beyond. If all goes well, I’ll be heading to Portugal sometime soon, which excites me more than I can say. Óbidos has become a place of light for me — not only because of its sunlit hills but because of the history I now carry in my pocket: my Portuguese passport, finally used for the first time just weeks ago.

Other possible chapters are shaping up too: a regional humanitarian seminar in Panama in November, and maybe — if I’m really lucky — a short trip to Canada to visit Tahir’s family and other cherished friends before that.

But most of my energy these days goes into the book. Memoir of a Wandering Spirit is no longer just an idea — it’s a companion. A demanding one. It asks for time, memory, honesty. It keeps me up some nights and carries me through others. The project is far from over. There’s still a great deal of writing ahead… and even more editing. But the heart of it is beating strong.

I write because I feel I should. Because what I’ve seen — what I keep seeing — in this line of work, in these places, in this life, would otherwise overwhelm me. Writing doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t rescue anyone. But it allows me to bear witness. To hold onto truth. To protect myself, yes — but also to honour those whose stories have touched me.

So today, I wanted to share a few raw pages. Real ones. Unedited, perhaps imperfect — but written with care and gratitude. These are not mere anecdotes. They’re small windows into a life constantly shaped by motion, friendship, loss, and surprise.

📖 Extracts from Memoir of a Wandering Spirit:

❄️ Zakopane, Poland (1981)

When he woke, there was pain, but more than pain— confusion. A strange, underwater quiet filled the intensive care unit. He was connected to tubes, monitors, drips. Something hummed near his ear. His chest was tight. Breathing hurt. There were drains in his back, collecting blood. His body, stitched and patched, was trying to hold itself together.

And across the room, a nurse stood frozen by the television.

General Jaruzelski stared out from the screen in his heavy glasses. Tanks rolled across Polish cities. Martial Law had been declared.

The nurse cried. Not loudly. Not theatrically. Just a quiet unravelling, the way snow falls from a ledge when no one is watching. Kacper didn’t understand exactly what had happened. But he knew what war looked like. He had seen pictures. And now it was on every screen. A country sealed, curfews set, voices silenced.

🌆 London, United Kingdom (1992)

He introduced him to friends — mostly girls. Loud, smiling, kind Polish girls who spoke with a bounce in their voice and wore worn-out shoes from walking the city. One of them, Edyta, was especially sweet. She had three jobs — waiting tables in pubs and working in the kitchen of a boutique hotel near Oxford Circus.

One evening, after tea and laughter, she leaned over and whispered, “I spoke to the manager. They’re looking for help. Come tomorrow.”

Kacper did.

The manager — a wiry man from Sri Lanka named Mr. Liroy — looked him over for a long moment, then said:
“You can clean dishes. Scrub floors. But no one must see you. You limp. People will say we exploit the crippled.”

Kacper blinked.

He didn’t even register the cruelty in the words — not at the time. He just nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Of course.”

Because there was money.

Not much. But enough.

Enough to buy food.

Enough to pay rent.

Enough to stop borrowing.

It was the smallest victory. But to Kacper, it felt like a continent.

So Kacper started working.

🌃 Delhi, India (1995)

Delhi came alive.

Shops lit up in pinks, greens, and pulsing neon. Bonfires burned in patches along the pavement — families gathered around, warming themselves, cooking food in tin pots. Children chased one another between tuk-tuks and carts. A man sold strings of jasmine flowers that smelled like memory. A woman in gold earrings sang quietly to herself as she swept the dust from her shopfront into the street.

It was light and dark. Noise and silence. Scent and shadow.

On the walk back to the hotel, Kacper looked at himself in a shop window.

He saw two black rings around his nostrils — soot from the city’s air, from the exhaust of buses and the open fires on the kerbs. He rubbed his face and laughed. Delhi had already marked him.

That night, lying on the narrow bed in a room that smelled of too many lives, Kacper stared at the ceiling and thought: this is paradise.

Not the paradise from travel brochures or Sunday sermons. But his paradise — strange, flawed, luminous with human noise.

🕌 Near Lahore, Pakistan (1995)

It was late enough now that the iftar — the breaking of the fast — had begun. The table was laid out richly: plates of marinated meat, yoghurt sauces, heaps of rice, piles of spiced flatbreads. Silja and Kacper were asked about everything — Denmark, Finland, Poland, their schooling, their bus, their thoughts on Pakistan.

The mood was festive, chatty, welcoming. And yet, beneath it all, Kacper felt a strange, slow cloud forming. He was tired. Foggy. His head heavy. He blinked hard, rubbed his temples.

Then came the tea.

Kacper tried to politely refuse. “I’m full,” he said, “I never drink milk tea. Really.”

But their hosts insisted. Firmly.

“No, no,” one of the women said. “You must. It is tradition.”

They were visibly upset when he hesitated. The smiles stiffened. Something about the room dimmed.

So he drank.

It was sweet. Too sweet. Thick. It clung to his tongue like syrup.

He remembers the light — a single bare bulb high on the wall of the guest room. It buzzed faintly, flickering once or twice. He tried to turn over, to switch it off. But his arms didn’t move. Or maybe they did. He couldn’t tell.

And then —

Nothing.

He opened his eyes.

Trees. Branches swaying above. Sky between them, pale and unmoving. His head throbbed, deep and dull like an echo. The air smelled of soil and petrol.

He saw Silja. She was on the ground, a few feet away. She vomited into the grass, her hair matted. She wore only part of her outfit.

Kacper blinked slowly. It didn’t register. He wanted to sleep. He turned his face into the earth and let go again.

🌁 Tehran, Iran (1995)

There was something in the air of Tehran that reminded him of home. Not Nowy Sącz, exactly — but Poland in the gloomiest years of its own grey winter. The dull ache of systems too large to fight. The coded jokes. The careful conversations. The quiet rebellions. How people found each other in spite of the noise. He had grown up in it. He recognised it.

They stayed in Tehran for three days. They visited the Golestan Palace with its glittering mirrors and mirrored lies. They walked the hills of Darband and tasted sour plums dipped in salt. But most memorable was their visit to the University of Tehran.

Through a local contact, they were introduced to a small circle of professors who had agreed — cautiously — to meet. The discussion was broad, almost evasive, but peppered with curiosity and candour. “You come to learn?” one of the scholars asked. “Then observe our contradictions. That’s the best teacher we have.”

They sipped tea together in a faculty lounge where a poster of Hafez covered a peeling wall. It was enough. Words were chosen carefully, but eyes said more. These were people who had not given up. Not on truth, not on learning.

When they left Tehran, the city receded behind them in waves of smog and light. But something stayed with Kacper. Not the monuments, not the markets — but the feeling of a people who had not allowed themselves to disappear into their own silence.

He thought again of the woman in 'Daughter of Persia', and the girl in the bookshop, and the driver who made him laugh. And he understood something new: sometimes resistance doesn’t shout. It sings, it whispers, it waits — and it endures.

This book is not finished. Not even close. The memories are vast, and the editing will demand patience. But the soul of it — the wandering, questioning spirit of Kacper — is alive and well.

Thank you for staying with me. For reading. For asking. For caring.

Writing may not change the world, but perhaps it changes the writer — and, just maybe, the reader too.

Sending you all my warmest regards, wherever you are reading this message from!

It’s already July — somehow — and I find myself needing to pause for a moment and take stock. Life in Caracas continues at its intense pace. Between professional responsibilities, writing projects, and half-formed travel plans, the days slip by quickly, sometimes too quickly.

Work has been demanding lately. The recent floods in the western part of the country have kept our team fully occupied — coordinating with partners, assessing needs, and pushing forward on response efforts despite all the usual constraints. It’s the kind of work that consumes you — urgent, necessary, sometimes exhausting, but always worth showing up for.

In parallel, I’ve made quiet but steady progress on the book project. It’s a different kind of labour — slow, reflective, emotional. Digging through memory, sorting photos, revisiting stories I’ve carried for years. Writing is teaching me to slow down and listen again — to voices, to places, to versions of myself I hadn’t heard from in a while. It’s not fast work, but it’s honest, and I feel like something meaningful is finally taking shape.

On the travel front, there are a few ideas floating around — nothing confirmed yet, but I might head to Portugal in August. A little time to breathe, reconnect with places and people that bring peace. Let’s see if the stars (and flights) align.

And if all goes very favourably — and I mean very — I might even manage a long-dreamed-of visit to Canada in November, just before our regional humanitarian seminar in Panama. The idea would be to see Tahir’s family and reconnect with other dear friends scattered across that vast and generous country. I’m not getting ahead of myself just yet, but the thought is a comforting one.

As for Panama in November — it promises to be intense, no doubt, but also a chance to reconnect with colleagues from across Latin America and reflect together on the challenges we’re facing — and the opportunities we still have, if we keep our heads and hearts open.

So yes, it’s a full season. Demanding and unpredictable — but also rich in ways that matter. And in the middle of it all, I’m grateful. For work that has purpose. For writing that helps me stay grounded. For friends who keep me laughing. For people who still believe in decency, even when the world makes that belief feel fragile.

More soon — and hopefully from somewhere with a breeze off the Atlantic.

Last week, in the quiet Danish town of Ulfborg, something loud, spirited, and unmistakably DNS happened: the reunion. Old students and teachers from across the years gathered once again under the wide Nordic sky to hug, laugh, reminisce, and politely argue over the state of the world (with hand gestures, of course). DNS was doing what it does best — being joyfully chaotic, idealistic, and ever so slightly sleep-deprived.

I wasn’t there. Life, distance, and a Venezuelan to-do list got in the way. But I followed the reunion from afar, scrolling through the photos with a smile that quickly turned into full-blown nostalgia (and yes, a mild, lingering dose of FOMO).

For those who’ve never heard of DNS — well, it’s complicated. This college isn’t your average school. You don’t just attend classes. You live in a commune. You cook for 70 people. You clean toilets. You budget a road trip to India. You question everything you’ve ever believed — usually in the middle of the night — and then wake up at 6am to peel potatoes.

And you love it. Eventually.

When I joined DNS, I arrived with a small-town worldview — thoughtful, yes, but let’s say… contained. DNS took that worldview, gave it a gentle shake, then turned it completely upside down and said: “Have another look.” Suddenly, the world was bigger, more unjust, more beautiful, and more complicated than I had ever imagined. And I was expected to engage with it. Not as a tourist, but as someone with responsibility.

Then came the legendary road trip to India. In a Volvo bus. Packed with idealists, cooking equipment, and duct tape. We crossed borders, broke down, patched things together — literally and metaphorically — and arrived with new stories, and a slightly deeper understanding of the world and ourselves (and how to survive on a diet of rice and instant coffee).

After that came Angola. One year of teaching practice, community living, intense heat, and life lessons. I came to teach English. I left with a degree in resilience, humility, and the art of finding joy in small victories — like electricity returning, or a successful lesson without the chalk disintegrating.

Looking at the reunion photos, I saw familiar faces — older, yes, but still radiating the same mix of passion, warmth, and wild-eyed curiosity that defines a DNSer. I could almost hear the debates over whether someone had skipped their cleaning duty, or the late-night planning of a better world, one communal meal at a time.

I missed being there. I missed the songs, the shouting, the group decisions that took six hours and still nobody agreed. But more than anything, I was grateful — grateful that the DNS spirit is still alive, still kicking, still questioning everything, and still managing to function (barely) on coffee and collective optimism.

To everyone who made it to Ulfborg: thank you. You reminded me that DNS isn’t something you finish. It’s something you carry — in your work, in your friendships, in how you talk to strangers, and definitely in how you organise your dishwashing rota.

Until next time — with love, solidarity, and possibly a slightly better sleeping bag.

There’s a particular kind of silence that falls when something important begins to slip away — not suddenly, but gradually, almost politely, as if hoping we won’t notice. It’s the silence I’ve been feeling lately when thinking about Poland, and the growing fear that the liberal democracy we thought we were building may be quietly unravelling.

It’s not easy to put this into words. Not because the signs are hard to read — they’re not — but because once you name it, it becomes real. And what’s real, lately, is frightening.

The fear isn’t only about those in power. It’s not just politicians — they didn’t arrive from nowhere. We choose them. Or at least, enough of us do. And that’s what troubles me most. The crowds who cheer when the courts are weakened. The shrugs when media independence is eroded. The sighs of relief when borders close to the desperate. The language of suspicion, repeated enough times to become normal.

Somehow, we are doing this to ourselves.

It’s easy to blame leaders. It’s harder to face the truth that large parts of the public seem ready — perhaps even eager — to trade freedom for certainty, complexity for slogans, solidarity for safety behind fences. Maybe they believe this is what strength looks like. Maybe they’ve never known what it’s like to lose the right to choose.

That’s the part that haunts me. That we may not realise how little choice we’ll have left — until the moment comes when we no longer have any at all.

I don’t write this from a place of detachment. I write it with sadness, as someone who remembers the taste of hope when Poland opened itself up to a broader, more open world. When joining Europe wasn’t just about economics or borders — it was about a promise. That we would belong to something rooted in human dignity, justice, truth.

Now, I find myself grasping at smaller, quieter things to hold onto: a photograph from the countryside. A stubborn conversation with someone who disagrees. The smell of forests in September. The belief — fragile, but still there — that maybe this isn’t the end of the story.

Because even if democracy weakens, even if the noise of indifference grows louder, we still have choices. Perhaps not political ones, not for long — but moral ones. Personal ones. The choice to remember. To care. To stay awake. To speak, even softly, when the pressure is to stay silent.

I don’t know how deep the darkness will go. But I know that once we stop feeling sadness, once we stop being afraid — then the danger has truly won. Until then, maybe grief itself is a form of resistance. Maybe the fact that we still ache means there’s still something left to fight for.

Maybe, even now, the most radical thing we can do is to feel. And not to turn away.

So, a bit of a spoiler… this is how the writing project is shaping up. This is just the introduction — more has already been written, but I thought I’d share the first few paragraphs (still likely to change):

Memoir of a Wandering Spirit: The Double Life of Kacper

Introduction: The Man in Caracas

Kacper sat in the faded green armchair by the window, the one that overlooked the cloud-draped hills of Ávila, rising like a green wave at the edge of La Castellana. The apartment, perched high above the pulsing streets of Caracas, offered a mystical contrast — the city below often noisy and restless, the mountains above always still, nearly sacred. From the kitchen came the low hum of the fridge and, outside, the echo of a mototaxi carving through the streets. Kacper wrapped his hands around a chipped mug of black tea and stared into the misty outline of the hills. There was something about this particular dusk that pulled him backward.
 
Back to Nowy Sącz. Back to hospital corridors that smelled of disinfectant and hope. Back to a tiny dishwashing station in London, to sun-scorched villages in Huambo, to icy rides on Icelandic horses, to the high-security NGO compound in Wau, and a rooftop in Sudan where he once spotted a Janjaweed rider with a laptop strapped to his horse.
 
His life, Kacper thought, had never really stopped being a journey — literal and emotional. His story was etched into the rhythm of motion: trains rattling through the Polish countryside; buses wheezing across jungle highlands; ferries swaying in tropical rains; tuk-tuks zigzagging through city chaos; and old sedans breaking down in desert heat. In the air, there were Cessnas skimming mountain ranges, Buffalo planes loaded with goats and coal in South Sudan, and sleek modern jets crossing oceans. Those aircraft carried him to astonishing places — some wild and unpredictable, others that quietly stole his heart. Portugal was one of them. And Óbidos — with its whitewashed walls and slow, sunlit hours — nestled into his memory, becoming a second home alongside Nowy Sącz.
 
This book is not a guide. It is not an instruction manual for surviving the humanitarian industry, or for navigating visas, evacuations, revolutions, or heartaches. This is simply a story. Or perhaps, fragments of a story — a journey somewhere between passed reality and fiction. Even Kacper himself is no longer certain where memory ends and invention begins.
 
He only knows this: once upon a time, there was a boy who wasn’t supposed to walk, let alone fly. But he did. He flew because people made it possible. His mother — relentless, protective, fiercely loving — who thought and fought for him every day. His father — quiet, steady, present. And Betty and Mark, an English couple who brought orthopaedic supplies to a Polish hospital and saved a boy’s life without ever asking for anything in return. They gave him hope. They gave him a path. They gave him movement.
 
And over time, Kacper learned that family is not only made by blood. There were people along the way — friends, students, strangers turned companions — who became his chosen family. Among them was Amir, an Ahmadi from Pakistan, who now lives in Toronto. And there was Lucas, a young Venezuelan who made his way to Madrid. Kacper looked after them, just as they looked after him. They became his brothers, his people — anchors in a world always on the move.
 
Kacper’s life has been full of contradictions: a poor boy who speaks four languages, a disabled child who crossed half the world by land, an optimist who has buried too many friends. In writing this book, he does not wish to teach, but to share. He hopes that, somewhere in these pages, someone will find the courage to write their own odd, imperfect, adventurous map of a life.
 
So, let us begin.

I usually refrain from commenting on political developments. I do so deliberately, because of my professional position and my belief in the importance of careful, informed judgement. But what is happening in the world over the past few days — particularly in the Middle East — has left me deeply upset and worried, both as a humanitarian and as a human being.

I follow the news about Gaza and Iran with a heavy heart. I see images of destruction, read about lives lost — and I struggle. Not because I want to debate geopolitical strategies or defend one actor over another. But because I see pain, fear, displacement, and grief on all sides. And because I feel we are rapidly losing our ability to respond to this pain with clarity, honesty, and compassion.

What is happening in Gaza is, without question, horrific. The scale of civilian suffering, the targeting of basic infrastructure, the deaths of children — it is intolerable. But I also see the suffering of Israeli families living in fear, the panic in Iranian cities, the pain of Jewish and Muslim communities alike, targeted far from the region in acts of hatred or revenge. In my work, I meet people who are affected by these dynamics in real and painful ways — no matter which country they come from.

This is not about excusing violence. It is about acknowledging that, wherever it comes from and whoever it targets, violence dehumanises. It is about reaffirming the idea that human life must remain sacred — even when politics are complex. It is about remembering that being for one community must never mean being against another.

I write this not as a political expert — I am not one — but as someone who has spent their life working with people displaced by war, persecution, and despair. I have seen what conflict does to families, to children, to dreams. And I have seen how crucial it is to protect the space for empathy, even when it is hardest.

This post is not a political statement, nor does it reflect the views of any institution I work for. It is simply a personal reflection — an attempt to make sense of what feels senseless.

We do not need to agree on all things. But perhaps we can agree that every civilian death is a tragedy. That human dignity must matter. That we must not allow ourselves to become desensitised to suffering. And that the hope of peace — however faint — must not be lost.

🌍 World Refugee Day: On Movement, Courage, and the Right to Begin Again

📌 Versión en español a continuación
📌 Wersja polska na dole

Today is World Refugee Day.

Each year, this day prompts statements of solidarity, data points, policy discussions, and rightly so—because to flee your home, to cross borders in search of safety, is never a trivial act. It is a rupture, often a trauma, and for millions, a daily reality. Through my professional life, I have had the honour of working alongside refugees: individuals and families navigating unimaginable loss with strength, clarity, and dignity. I have also worked with those who support them—organisations, institutions, and countless individuals who carry an often unseen burden, whose labour makes the difference between despair and hope.

But this year, I do not want to write a conventional tribute. I want to go further—and closer.

Because I believe that, in one way or another, we are all refugees.

Not necessarily in the strict legal sense. Not always across national borders. But in the quiet, universal human impulse to move away from what is broken, painful, or limiting—toward something better. We leave villages, jobs, relationships, patterns that no longer serve us. We seek safety, purpose, wellbeing. And that instinct—to walk towards change—is not a weakness. It is our shared engine. It is how humanity advances.

Yet, for some, that movement is criminalised. Stigmatised. Blocked. Some are told their dreams are too big, their presence too much, their needs too inconvenient. Some are made to feel they are nothing more than the crisis they escaped.

And still—they move.

So today, I pay tribute to those who walk despite the weight. To those who flee, recognised or not. To those whose transitions are public and visible, and to those whose escapes are quiet and unseen. To the people in tents, in transit centres, in immigration queues, but also to the people in buses leaving their villages, in waiting rooms, in empty flats starting over. You carry the courage of the world.

I also pay tribute to the people and communities who welcome. Who soften landings. Who offer something beyond paperwork: recognition, patience, space. Whether they host the displaced of war or the displaced of life—they are the stewards of our shared humanity.

And let me be clear: I have always believed in supporting refugees and migrants. Not because it is fashionable, or easy, or institutionally mandated. But because it is right. And in a world that grows increasingly hostile to difference, increasingly fearful of movement, it is a brave and radical thing to seek safety and insist on life.

But I also believe that those who seek change—especially those who arrive in new places—carry responsibilities too. To contribute. To adapt. To bring their voices forward without silencing others. To demand acceptance, yes—but also to be open to influence. Because every transition is a negotiation, and every new beginning requires both humility and pride.

So today, on World Refugee Day, I honour the truth that we are all in motion. Some more visibly. Some more painfully. But all of us trying, somehow, to cross into something better.

And that crossing, when it’s made with dignity, with care, with courage—that’s where the future begins.

⸻

🌍 Día Mundial de las Personas Refugiadas: Sobre el movimiento, el coraje y el derecho a empezar de nuevo

Cada año, este día genera declaraciones de solidaridad, cifras y debates sobre políticas, y con razón: huir de tu hogar, cruzar fronteras en busca de seguridad, nunca es un acto trivial. Es una ruptura, a menudo un trauma, y para millones, una realidad cotidiana. A lo largo de mi vida profesional, he tenido el honor de trabajar junto a personas refugiadas: individuos y familias que navegan pérdidas inimaginables con fuerza, claridad y dignidad. También he trabajado con quienes las apoyan—organizaciones, instituciones e innumerables personas cuyo trabajo, muchas veces invisible, marca la diferencia entre la desesperación y la esperanza.

Pero este año, no quiero escribir un homenaje convencional. Quiero ir más allá—y más cerca.

Porque creo que, de una u otra forma, todos somos refugiados.

No necesariamente en el sentido jurídico. No siempre a través de fronteras nacionales. Pero sí en ese impulso humano, silencioso y universal, de alejarse de lo que está roto, duele o limita—para acercarse a algo mejor. Dejamos pueblos, trabajos, relaciones, patrones que ya no nos sirven. Buscamos seguridad, propósito, bienestar. Y ese instinto—caminar hacia el cambio—no es debilidad. Es nuestro motor común. Es como la humanidad avanza.

Y sin embargo, para algunos, ese movimiento es criminalizado. Estigmatizado. Bloqueado. A algunos se les dice que sueñan demasiado, que su presencia molesta, que sus necesidades son excesivas. Se les hace sentir que no son más que la crisis de la que huyeron.

Y aún así—siguen caminando.

Hoy, rindo homenaje a quienes caminan pese al peso. A quienes huyen, reconocidos o no. A quienes transitan visiblemente y a quienes escapan en silencio. A las personas en carpas, centros de tránsito, filas migratorias, pero también a quienes van en autobuses, en salas de espera, en pisos vacíos empezando de nuevo. Llevan el coraje del mundo.

También rindo homenaje a quienes acogen. Quienes suavizan aterrizajes. Quienes ofrecen algo más que trámites: reconocimiento, paciencia, espacio. Ya sea que reciban a desplazados por guerras o por la vida—son guardianes de nuestra humanidad compartida.

Y quiero dejarlo claro: siempre he creído en apoyar a personas refugiadas y migrantes. No porque esté de moda, o sea fácil, o institucionalmente requerido. Sino porque es lo correcto. Y en un mundo cada vez más hostil a la diferencia, más temeroso del movimiento, buscar seguridad y afirmar la vida es un acto valiente y radical.

Pero también creo que quienes buscan el cambio—especialmente quienes llegan a nuevos lugares—tienen responsabilidades. Contribuir. Adaptarse. Elevar su voz sin acallar a los demás. Exigir ser aceptados, sí—pero también estar abiertos a ser transformados. Porque toda transición es una negociación, y todo nuevo comienzo requiere tanto humildad como orgullo.

Hoy, en el Día Mundial de las Personas Refugiadas, honro la verdad de que todos estamos en movimiento. Algunos de manera más visible. Algunos con más dolor. Pero todos intentando, de algún modo, cruzar hacia algo mejor.

Y ese cruce, cuando se hace con dignidad, con cuidado, con coraje—es donde empieza el futuro.

⸻

🌍 Światowy Dzień Uchodźcy: O ruchu, odwadze i prawie do nowego początku

Każdego roku ten dzień skłania do gestów solidarności, analiz statystycznych, rozmów o polityce. I słusznie—ucieczka z domu, przekraczanie granic w poszukiwaniu bezpieczeństwa nigdy nie jest sprawą błahą. To pęknięcie, często trauma, a dla milionów—codzienność. Przez całe moje zawodowe życie miałem zaszczyt pracować z uchodźcami: z osobami i rodzinami, które mierzą się z niewyobrażalną stratą z godnością, odwagą i jasnością umysłu. Pracowałem także z tymi, którzy im pomagają—organizacjami, instytucjami, osobami prywatnymi—ludźmi, których wysiłek często pozostaje niewidzialny, a bez których nie byłoby nadziei.

Ale w tym roku nie chcę pisać klasycznego hołdu. Chcę pójść dalej—i bliżej.

Bo wierzę, że w pewnym sensie wszyscy jesteśmy uchodźcami.

Niekoniecznie w prawnym znaczeniu. Nie zawsze przekraczając granice państw. Ale w tym cichym, uniwersalnym ludzkim impulsie, by oddalić się od tego, co boli, co nie działa, co ogranicza—i zbliżyć się do czegoś lepszego. Opuszczamy wioski, miejsca pracy, relacje, schematy, które już nam nie służą. Szukamy bezpieczeństwa, sensu, dobrostanu. Ten impuls—by ruszyć ku zmianie—nie jest słabością. Jest naszym wspólnym motorem. To dzięki niemu ludzkość się rozwija.

A jednak dla niektórych ten ruch jest przestępstwem. Piętą hańby. Blokadą. Mówi się im, że marzą za bardzo, że ich obecność jest problemem, że ich potrzeby są niewygodne. Czują się sprowadzeni do roli kryzysu, z którego uciekli.

A mimo to—idą dalej.

Dlatego dziś składam hołd tym, którzy idą, mimo ciężaru. Tym, którzy uciekają—uznani lub nie. Tym, których droga jest widoczna, i tym, którzy odchodzą po cichu. Ludziom w namiotach, w ośrodkach przejściowych, w kolejkach do urzędów migracyjnych, ale też tym w autobusach opuszczających rodzinne strony, w poczekalniach, w pustych mieszkaniach zaczynających od nowa. To oni niosą odwagę świata.

Składam też hołd tym, którzy przyjmują. Którzy łagodzą lądowanie. Którzy oferują coś więcej niż dokumenty: uznanie, cierpliwość, przestrzeń. Niezależnie, czy przyjmują uchodźców wojennych, czy tych życiowych—są strażnikami naszej wspólnej ludzkości.

I mówię wprost: zawsze wierzyłem w wspieranie uchodźców i migrantów. Nie dlatego, że to modne, łatwe czy wymagane przez instytucje. Ale dlatego, że to słuszne. W świecie coraz bardziej wrogim wobec inności, coraz bardziej przestraszonym ruchem, poszukiwanie bezpieczeństwa i obrona życia to akt odwagi i godności.

Ale wierzę też, że ci, którzy szukają zmiany—szczególnie ci, którzy trafiają do nowych miejsc—mają obowiązki. Wnosić coś od siebie. Dostosowywać się. Zabierać głos, nie zagłuszając innych. Domagać się akceptacji, ale też być gotowym na wpływ otoczenia. Każda zmiana to proces, a każdy nowy początek wymaga i pokory, i dumy.

Dziś, w Światowy Dzień Uchodźcy, oddaję hołd prawdzie, że wszyscy jesteśmy w ruchu. Jedni bardziej widocznie. Inni boleśniej. Ale wszyscy próbujemy, na swój sposób, przejść ku czemuś lepszemu.

A ten krok, gdy robimy go z godnością, troską i odwagą—to tam zaczyna się przyszłość.

There are moments—often late in the evening, or in transit between field visits—when I find myself needing to stop and write. Not because someone expects a report or briefing, but because it’s the only way I can hold on to what’s happening. The only way to make sense of it. Writing, for me, has never just been about documenting facts; it’s about preserving memory, honouring people, and, perhaps, staying human amidst everything.

Over the years, I’ve filled journals and digital folders with reflections, fragments of dialogue, stories of people and places that changed me. From South Sudan to Myanmar, from Angola to Venezuela, I’ve tried to capture not just the “what” and the “how,” but the “why”—why it mattered, why it hurt, why it inspired.

Often, what I witness in the field makes me feel helpless—something I resist, but cannot always escape. There are days when the weight of it all settles in my chest: the injustice, the indifference, the cruelty of systems that fail the most vulnerable. Writing becomes my way of holding the sorrow without letting it crush me. It is, in truth, an act of survival. It may not change much for those in need, but it offers me a thread of sanity. Putting things down on paper doesn’t fix the world—but it protects me from being swallowed by it.

I write because I have seen things that shouldn’t be forgotten. I write because some stories will never make it into official reports. I write because, despite all the noise, storytelling still connects us—across borders, languages, politics. It builds empathy. And in the humanitarian world, empathy is not a luxury; it’s a lifeline.

Now, as I slowly begin the process of shaping these fragments into a memoir, I’m rediscovering parts of myself. Revisiting field notes from Angola in the late 90s. Scrolling through photos of makeshift clinics and dusty border crossings. Rereading the story of a woman in Colombia who once said to me, “We don’t want your pity, just your honesty.” Her voice still echoes.

The book won’t be a chronicle of my work. It will be a record of becoming—through encounters, mistakes, and lessons. It’s deeply personal, but I hope it also resonates with others who’ve worked in the field, or simply care about the world beyond their own.

Writing is a way of staying close to people I’ve met, to the places I’ve left behind. But it’s also a way of reaching forward—of building bridges between where I’ve been and where I’m going. Between those whose lives I’ve entered briefly, and those who might one day read their stories and see the world a little differently.

So I keep writing. Because it keeps me grounded. Because, I hope, it keeps me honest. Because it reminds me that no matter how fragmented the world feels, we still have the power to connect, to remember, and to care.

Polska wersja poniżej
Versión en español a continuación

🇬🇧 Reflections After the Ballot Boxes: From Europe to Caracas 🇬🇧

I’m writing this post back in Caracas, after what was, on paper, a wonderful holiday. Just days ago, I was in Europe—walking familiar streets, visiting dear places, travelling with Mum, and spending time with family and friends. I came back with a full heart and beautiful memories. But somehow, the glow of that journey feels dimmer now. Since returning, the joy of the trip has given way to a heavy sense of reflection—prompted by the outcomes of the recent elections in both Portugal and Poland.

The results of the Portuguese parliamentary elections came in while I was still in Europe. At first, I tried to brush off the unsettling wave of disappointment I felt. Portugal has long held a special place in my life. It’s been a second home. A place that welcomed me and so many others. But in these elections, the strong showing of anti-migrant and ultra-conservative voices was unmistakable. It was hard not to feel that something vital had shifted.

Then, just days later, came the second round of the Polish presidential elections. I had already cast my first-round vote in Nowy Sącz—a special and grounding experience. But for the run-off, I found myself back in Caracas, voting at the Polish consulate. Once again, the result was a blow. And the emotional contrast between that feeling and the joy I had experienced only days earlier, wandering through springtime Kraków, was jarring.

I want to be clear: this post is not a political rant. It’s an expression of sadness and concern. Both Poland and Portugal are countries with deep histories of migration. For generations, our families left in search of safety, dignity, and the chance to rebuild their lives. I know mine did. And for the most part, they were met with kindness. It is hard to reconcile that past with the present climate—where isolationist rhetoric finds a receptive audience, and where people fleeing persecution and poverty are viewed with suspicion rather than compassion.

Of course, my perspective is shaped by my work. I’ve spent years supporting migrants and refugees—people who have survived trauma and hardship most of us can’t imagine. I think of the many individuals I’ve met whose lives were marked by courage and quiet strength, who ask for nothing more than a chance. And I ask myself: why would anyone think they are not worthy of support? Why would anyone deny them the same humanity we ourselves once relied on?

I know people are afraid. I know they feel uncertain, especially in a world that feels increasingly unpredictable. But fear cannot be our compass. It cannot be the measure of who we choose to help or welcome. And when entire political campaigns are built on amplifying that fear, it is not only damaging—it is dangerous.

I still believe in kindness. In hospitality. In the deep and generous values that so many people in both Portugal and Poland still hold, even if they don’t always find political expression. I believe those values matter more than ever now.

So here I am—back in Caracas, grateful for the travels that offered beauty and connection, but now carrying a quiet sorrow too. The world feels a little heavier. But I haven’t given up hope. There are still so many of us who believe in building bridges, not walls. Who believe that to share what we have is not a loss, but a mark of our humanity.

Let’s hold onto that.

⸻

🇵🇱 Refleksje po wyborach: z Europy do Caracas 🇵🇱

Piszę ten wpis już z Caracas, po podróży, która – przynajmniej na papierze – była wspaniałym urlopem. Jeszcze kilka dni temu byłem w Europie: spacerowałem znajomymi ulicami, odwiedzałem ukochane miejsca, podróżowałem z Mamą i spędzałem czas z rodziną i przyjaciółmi. Wróciłem z sercem pełnym wdzięczności i głową pełną pięknych wspomnień. A jednak, teraz, z perspektywy kilku dni, ten blask jakby przygasł. Radość z podróży ustąpiła miejsca ciężkiej refleksji – wywołanej wynikami ostatnich wyborów w Portugalii i Polsce.

Wyniki portugalskich wyborów parlamentarnych dotarły do mnie jeszcze podczas pobytu w Europie. Na początku próbowałem zignorować to uczucie rozczarowania, które się we mnie pojawiło. Portugalia zawsze zajmowała szczególne miejsce w moim życiu. To mój drugi dom. Kraj, który przyjął mnie – i tak wielu innych – z otwartością. Tym bardziej bolało, gdy zobaczyłem, jaką siłę zdobyły ugrupowania antyimigranckie i skrajnie konserwatywne. Coś ważnego, jakby się przesunęło.

Kilka dni później przyszła druga tura wyborów prezydenckich w Polsce. Głos w pierwszej turze oddałem jeszcze w Nowym Sączu – było to doświadczenie głębokie i zakorzeniające. Ale drugą turę głosowałem już w konsulacie w Caracas. I znów – rezultat był ciosem. Kontrast między tą emocją a radością zaledwie kilka dni wcześniej, gdy spacerowałem wiosennym Krakowem, był bardzo mocny.

Nie piszę tego, by kogokolwiek oskarżać. Piszę to z miejsca smutku i niepokoju. Polska i Portugalia to kraje o długiej historii migracji. Przez pokolenia nasi bliscy opuszczali domy w poszukiwaniu bezpieczeństwa, godności, szansy na odbudowę życia. I zwykle spotykali się z życzliwością. Trudno pogodzić tę historię z dzisiejszą rzeczywistością, w której narracja izolacjonistyczna zyskuje aplauz, a osoby uciekające przed wojną, prześladowaniem i biedą postrzegane są jako zagrożenie.

Wiem, że moja perspektywa wynika z mojej pracy. Spędziłem lata, wspierając uchodźców i migrantów – ludzi, którzy przeszli przez traumę i trudności, których większość z nas nawet sobie nie wyobraża. Myślę o tych wszystkich osobach, które poznałem – odważnych, pełnych cichej siły, proszących jedynie o szansę. I pytam sam siebie: dlaczego ktoś miałby uznać, że nie zasługują na pomoc? Dlaczego mielibyśmy odmówić im tego, co nam samym kiedyś ofiarowano?

Rozumiem, że ludzie się boją. Że świat staje się coraz mniej przewidywalny. Ale strach nie może być naszym kompasem. Nie może decydować o tym, komu okażemy solidarność. A gdy całe kampanie polityczne budowane są na podsycaniu tego lęku – to nie tylko smutne, to niebezpieczne.

Wciąż wierzę w dobroć. W gościnność. W wartości, które wciąż są obecne w wielu sercach – nawet jeśli nie zawsze przebijają się w debacie publicznej. I wierzę, że dziś są ważniejsze niż kiedykolwiek.

Więc oto jestem – znów w Caracas, z bagażem pięknych wspomnień, ale też z ciężarem smutku. Świat wydaje się odrobinę ciemniejszy. Ale nadzieja wciąż we mnie jest. Bo wiem, że jest nas wielu – tych, którzy wierzą, że warto budować mosty, a nie mury. Którzy wierzą, że dzielenie się tym, co mamy, nie jest stratą – a wyrazem naszego człowieczeństwa.

Trzymajmy się tego.

⸻

🇪🇸 Reflexiones después de las urnas: de Europa a Caracas 🇪🇸

Escribo estas líneas ya desde Caracas, después de lo que, en teoría, fue un viaje maravilloso. Hace solo unos días estaba en Europa: caminando por calles conocidas, visitando lugares queridos, viajando con mi madre y compartiendo tiempo con familia y amigos. Volví con el corazón lleno y muchos recuerdos hermosos. Pero, desde entonces, ese brillo ha perdido fuerza. La alegría de esas semanas ha sido reemplazada por una reflexión profunda, provocada por los resultados de las recientes elecciones en Portugal y en Polonia.

Los resultados de las elecciones parlamentarias en Portugal me alcanzaron mientras todavía estaba de viaje. Al principio intenté no dejarme llevar por la decepción, pero no pude evitar sentirme inquieto. Portugal siempre ha tenido un lugar especial en mi vida. Ha sido mi segundo hogar. Un país que me acogió a mí y a muchos otros con generosidad. Por eso fue tan doloroso ver el avance de discursos antimigratorios y posturas ultra conservadoras. Sentí que algo se había roto.

Pocos días después llegó la segunda vuelta de las elecciones presidenciales en Polonia. Había votado en la primera vuelta desde Nowy Sącz, una experiencia muy significativa para mí. Pero la segunda vuelta me encontró de regreso en Caracas, votando en el consulado. Y una vez más, el resultado me dejó con una sensación de vacío. El contraste con la felicidad que había sentido días antes, paseando por la primavera de Cracovia, fue muy fuerte.

Este texto no pretende acusar a nadie. Es una expresión de tristeza y preocupación. Polonia y Portugal son países marcados por la migración. Durante generaciones, nuestras familias emigraron buscando refugio, trabajo, dignidad. Y muchas veces fueron recibidas con brazos abiertos. Cuesta entender cómo, hoy, esa misma empatía parece desvanecerse, cómo se construyen muros en lugar de puentes.

Soy consciente de que mi visión está moldeada por mi trabajo. He pasado años acompañando a migrantes y refugiados: personas que han sobrevivido al dolor y al desarraigo, que solo piden una oportunidad. Y me pregunto: ¿por qué alguien podría negarles eso? ¿Por qué pensar que no merecen apoyo ni una acogida digna?

Entiendo que hay miedo, inseguridad, que el mundo se siente incierto. Pero no podemos dejar que el miedo guíe nuestras decisiones. No puede ser el criterio para definir a quién ayudamos o a quién dejamos fuera. Y cuando las campañas políticas se construyen sobre ese miedo, el daño puede ser profundo.

Sigo creyendo en la bondad. En la hospitalidad. En los valores sencillos y humanos que aún viven en muchas personas, aunque no siempre encuentren espacio en la política. Creo que hoy, más que nunca, debemos defenderlos.

Así estoy: de nuevo en Caracas, agradecido por los días vividos, pero también con un nudo en el pecho. El mundo se siente un poco más duro. Pero no he perdido la esperanza. Todavía somos muchos quienes creemos que compartir lo que tenemos no es perder, sino afirmar lo que somos.

A eso me aferro.

ENGLISH

Dear Friends,

With spring's full bloom behind us and the soft whisper of summer approaching, I thought I would take a moment to reconnect and share a little update from this part of the world — and my life.

After a long stretch of work, I was lucky to take a month off and spend some time in Europe. Most of that precious time I shared with my mum, who continues to be a source of light, wisdom, and quiet strength. It truly was a blessing to slow down and just be together. We talked for hours, watched the trees change colours, cooked, laughed, and enjoyed the small joys that tend to get lost in the speed of daily life.

We also travelled a bit: first to Malta, with its golden cliffs and sunlit alleys, and then to Central Asia — Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. We explored Tashkent and the majestic Samarkand, marveling at the intricately tiled mosques and medressas. One day, we even crossed the land border by car to visit Shymkent in Kazakhstan — a short adventure that gave us a taste of another culture and landscape. The vastness and beauty of the journey itself — through land and sky — was an adventure in its own right.

Later in the month, we welcomed Leo, a dear Venezuelan friend who now lives in Madrid — many of you kindly helped him when he relocated to Spain to start his new life ✨. He joined us in Poland for a few days, and it was so heartwarming to see him discovering new places: from the charm of Krakow, to the wooden churches in the Polish countryside, from Bardejov in Slovakia to the dramatic beauty of the Tatras on both the Slovak and Polish sides. Watching Leo getting hooked on travel and embracing the joy of discovering was one of the highlights of this spring.

I also managed to make a little nostalgic stop in Cieszyn and its twin city across the Olza river, Český Těšín. Walking the familiar streets where Poland meets Czechia reminded me once again how much beauty lies in quiet corners of the world.

Now, I'm back in Caracas. As much as I cherish the time away, it also feels good to return to familiar routines and reunite with colleagues and friends here. I realise once again how much I enjoy my work, even with all the challenges it brings. The world is in a strange and uneasy place right now — full of uncertainties, divisions, even fear. I too feel the weight of it sometimes. But the work I do, the people I meet, the belief that we can make a small difference — that gives me energy, purpose, and, quite frankly, keeps me sane.

The next few months will likely be busy with work in Venezuela and, with some luck, a bit of travel across the region too. If you're curious about some glimpses from our travels, you can find photos here: https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/7d9a8e4ebb1ee5b2dbdf379b7235313b-141.html 🌄📷

Wishing you all a peaceful summer ahead — with moments of joy, meaning, and connection. Hope to hear from you soon.

With love,
Roman 🌿

---

ESPAÑOL

Queridas y queridos,

Con la primavera ya quedándose atrás y el suave viento del verano acercándose, quería tomar un momento para reconectar y compartir con ustedes una pequeña actualización de mi mundo.

Tras una larga etapa de trabajo, tuve la suerte de tomarme un mes de vacaciones y pasarlo, sobre todo, con mi mamá. Ese tiempo compartido fue una verdadera bendición. Conversamos mucho, cocinamos juntos, caminamos, reímos y simplemente disfrutamos de esos pequeños placeres cotidianos que a menudo se nos escapan.

También tuvimos la oportunidad de viajar un poco: primero a Malta, con sus acantilados dorados y callejuelas soleadas, y luego a Asia Central — Uzbekistán y Kazajistán. Visitamos Taskent y la mítica Samarcanda. Un día incluso cruzamos la frontera terrestre en coche para llegar a Shymkent, en Kazajistán. Los paisajes, los caminos recorridos, las personas encontradas... el viaje fue tan especial como los destinos mismos.

Hacia el final del viaje, nos visitó Leo, un querido amigo venezolano que ahora vive en Madrid (gracias a muchos de ustedes que lo ayudaron a comenzar su nueva vida en España ✨). Compartimos algunos días maravillosos recorriendo Cracovia, los pueblos del sur de Polonia con sus iglesias de madera, Bardejov en Eslovaquia, y finalmente los Tatras polacos y eslovacos. Fue hermoso ver a Leo descubrir, disfrutar, engancharse con el viajar...

También hicimos una pequeña parada nostálgica en Cieszyn y su gemela checa, Český Těšín. Caminar por esas calles, donde Polonia y Chequia se abrazan, fue un recordatorio de la belleza que se esconde en los rincones tranquilos del mundo.

Ya de vuelta en Caracas, me alegra retomar mi rutina y reencontrarme con colegas y amistades. Me doy cuenta, una vez más, de cuánto me gusta mi trabajo. A pesar de los retos, me da energía y sentido. El mundo está en un momento complicado, incierto y a veces aterrador. Y yo también me asusto. Pero trabajar en algo que importa, junto a personas valientes y comprometidas, me mantiene en pie.

Los próximos meses estaré ocupado con el trabajo en Venezuela y, con suerte, también podré viajar un poco por la región. Si quieren echar un vistazo a las fotos del viaje, las pueden encontrar aquí: https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/7d9a8e4ebb1ee5b2dbdf379b7235313b-141.html 🌄📷

Les deseo un verano lleno de calma, sentido y alegría. Espero saber de ustedes pronto.

Con mucho cariño,
Roman 🌿

---

POLSKI

Kochani,

Wraz z odejściem wiosny i powolnym nadejściem lata, chcę się z Wami podzielić kilkoma refleksjami i wieściami z mojego świata.

Po długim okresie pracy udało mi się wziąć miesiąc urlopu, który w dużej mierze spędziłem z Mamą. To był naprawdę wspaniały czas — spokojny, wspólny, przepełniony rozmowami, uśmiechem, gotowaniem i spacerami. Proste rzeczy, ale jakże cenne.

Podróżowaliśmy razem: najpierw na Maltę, a potem do Azji Centralnej. Odwiedziliśmy Taszkent i bajeczną Samarkandę, a na jeden dzień samochodem przekroczyliśmy granicę z Kazachstanem, by odwiedzić Szymkent. Sama podróż przez bezkresne krajobrazy Azji była przygodą samą w sobie.

Pod koniec urlopu do Polski przyleciał Leo, mój wenezuelski przyjaciel, który obecnie mieszka w Madrycie (wielu z Was pomogło mu się tam odnaleźć i zacznąć nowe życie ✨). Razem odwiedziliśmy Kraków, drewniane cerkwie i kościoły w Małopolsce, Bardejov na Słowacji, a także Tatry po obu stronach granicy. Cudownie było patrzeć, jak Leo odkrywa nowe miejsca i zakochuje się w podróżowaniu.

Zajrzałem również do Cieszyna i Czeskiego Cieszyna — spacer po tych znanych uliczkach, gdzie spotykają się Polacy i Czesi, był dla mnie pięknym momentem zadumy i radości.

Dziś jestem już z powrotem w Caracas. Choć miło było odpocząć, dobrze też wrócić do rytmu pracy i znajomych twarzy. Przypominam sobie, jak bardzo lubię to, co robię. Mimo trudów, niepewności i niepokoju, które ogarniają nasz świat, moja praca daje mi siłę, sens i... zdrowy rozsądek.

Najbliższe miesiące będę intensywnie pracował w Wenezueli, ale z odrobiną szczęścia uda się też coś zobaczyć w regionie. A jeśli macie ochotę na kilka zdjęć z naszych podróży, zapraszam tutaj: https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/7d9a8e4ebb1ee5b2dbdf379b7235313b-141.html 🌄📷

Serdecznie Was pozdrawiam, życząc dobrego, spokojnego i słonecznego lata!

Roman 🌿

I’ve just arrived back in Caracas—back in my flat, back in the tropical air, and back to the rhythms of my Venezuelan life and work. It’s always strange how the body lands faster than the mind. As I sit by the window, hearing the hum of the city returning to life around me, I find myself still drifting somewhere between Nowy Sącz, Kraków, Samarkand, and the Tatra peaks.

The last month has been nothing short of extraordinary. A journey that was meant to be a break turned into a soul-filling, unforgettable exploration of places, people, and emotions. I travelled across continents, revisited beloved towns, discovered hidden treasures, and reconnected not only with family and friends, but with my own sense of wonder.

✈️ The Journey Home – Through Airports and Between Worlds

It all started in April 2025, when I left Caracas for a long-anticipated holiday. The journey itself became part of the experience. Airports have always been a strange comfort to me—places of transition, promise, and people-watching. From Caracas to Lisbon, then on to Warsaw, Kraków, and finally Nowy Sącz, I found myself reflecting on movement as a metaphor: not just of geography, but of life.

Each airport had its own rhythm—Lisbon’s friendly charm, Warsaw’s clean precision, and the warm intimacy of Kraków’s terminals welcoming me back to Poland.

📸 Journey Through Airports – April 2025

🌿 Home, Mountains and Mum

Once in Nowy Sącz, it didn’t take long before I found myself on the road again—this time with Mum. We took a delightful day trip to Krynica-Zdrój, one of our favourite spa towns. The spring sunshine, lush greenery, and the sweet rhythm of Polish life made for a perfect getaway. We rode the Góra Parkowa funicular, strolled through Krynica’s elegant centre, and drove back via Muszyna, tracing the border with Slovakia.

📸 Spring Day Trip to Krynica with Mum

🇲🇹 Malta: Sun, Sea and Shared Time

A few days later, Mum and I boarded a flight to Malta—a tiny island nation steeped in history. Though we only stayed for three days, we packed in Valletta, the Blue Grotto, Marsaxlokk, Gozo, and the Blue Lagoon. Malta left a strong impression on both of us: a stunning mix of Mediterranean light, Baroque architecture, and centuries of layered civilisations. Sharing these discoveries with Mum was priceless.

📸 A Long May Weekend in Malta with Mum

🏛️ Between Travels – Reconnecting with Home

Between Malta and our next big trip, we had a peaceful interlude in Kraków. Our visit happened to coincide with the celebration of 3rd May Constitution Day—a moment of pride for every Pole. Flags waved from balconies, and the atmosphere in the city was festive yet thoughtful. We walked through Wawel, admired St. Mary’s Basilica, and lunched at a Czech restaurant. Mum loved it—and so did I.

📸 Reconnecting with Home: Nowy Sącz and Kraków

🌍 Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan – A Dream Come True

Then came one of the most powerful chapters of this holiday: a long-awaited journey to Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. This trip was a dream finally realised. We explored Tashkent, Samarkand, and Shymkent, walking through places rich in culture and history. Samarkand, with its regal Registan Square and its stories of Islamic scholars, truly stole our hearts. In Shymkent, our guide Larisa left a profound impression with her knowledge and humanity.

Crossing borders by foot, navigating languages, and encountering warmth at every turn reminded me that the world, though vast, can also feel deeply familiar. The contributions of Central Asian civilisations to science, art, and philosophy left us inspired and humbled.

📸 A Dream Journey: Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan with Mum

🚗 Southern Poland by Roads and Borders

Back in Poland, I found joy in small excursions—rediscovering places that felt both old and new. I spent time with my brother and his family, shared Venezuelan rum chosen by Giovanni, and went on a road trip with Mum and our neighbours to Cieszyn and Český Těšín, walking across the border that slices the town in two. On the way back, we stopped in Žilina, Slovakia, and took in the landscapes of the Tatras as we drove home at sunset.

📸 Road Trip Across Borders: Cieszyn, Český Těšín & Žilina

🏘️ Rediscovering Forgotten Corners – Krosno and Miasto Galicyjskie

I also revisited Miasto Galicyjskie in Nowy Sącz—a place I always return to with affection—and took a spontaneous drive to Krosno, a town I hadn’t seen in years. I was astonished by how beautifully restored the old town is. The journey there, through patchworks of villages and rolling hills, reminded me of the richness of Lesser Poland, too often overlooked.

📸 Green Days of May – Miasto Galicyjskie & Krosno

🌄 A Special Guest – Leo in Poland and Slovakia

Then came a true highlight—Leo’s visit from Madrid. For four magical days, I had the pleasure of showing him Poland and Slovakia through my eyes. From the Old Town of Kraków to Kazimierz, from the wooden Lemko churches to Bardejov and Krynica, from the Pieniny mountains to the Tatra peaks, we crossed borders and gathered memories. Leo’s wide-eyed wonder, warmth, and excitement were contagious. His joy became mine.

📸 Four Unforgettable Days: Leo’s Visit to Poland and Slovakia

🏡 Final Hours – A Grateful Heart

On the last day before my return to Venezuela, I stayed close to home, soaking in the peace of Nowy Sącz and the company of my loved ones. These quiet hours were just as meaningful as the days of travel. They reminded me of how lucky I am to have roots in a place so rich in memory, tradition, and love.

📸 Moments Before Departure – Nowy Sącz Reflections

Now, as I sit here in Caracas once again, the experiences of the past month feel like a tapestry woven from many threads—each one vibrant, personal, and full of meaning. I return grateful beyond words for the time I had, the people I met and reunited with, and the places that opened themselves up to me. These weeks reminded me of how deeply rewarding travel can be when it’s done with curiosity, openness, and heart.

And yet—I’m equally excited to be back in Venezuela. I look forward to the challenges ahead, the stories waiting to be written here, and the joy of continuing to learn and contribute in this extraordinary country I’ve come to care for so much.

📸 Should you wish to explore some of the pictures from this journey, here are the links to the photo galleries:

1. ✈️ Journey Through Airports – April 2025
2. 🌿 Spring Day Trip to Krynica with Mum
3. 🇲🇹 A Long May Weekend in Malta with Mum
4. 🏛️ Reconnecting with Home: Nowy Sącz and Kraków
5. 🌍 A Dream Journey: Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan with Mum
6. 🚗 Road Trip Across Borders: Cieszyn, Český Těšín & Žilina
7. 🏘️ Green Days of May – Miasto Galicyjskie & Krosno
8. 🌄 Four Unforgettable Days: Leo’s Visit to Poland and Slovakia
9. 🏡 Moments Before Departure – Nowy Sącz Reflections

Thank you, Europe & Central Asia. Thank you, friends and family. And thank you, life—again and again.

Here’s to new chapters and new horizons, right here in Caracas. 🌍❤️🇻🇪

As I sit here in Mum’s flat in Nowy Sącz, enjoying a quiet spring afternoon and looking out onto the budding trees, I finally have a moment to reflect on the past two weeks. I left Caracas for Europe a little over a fortnight ago, flying via Lisbon—a city that already brings good energy. It was also the very first time I used my Portuguese passport for international travel, which felt like a personal milestone: symbolic, emotional, and exciting.

From Lisbon, I continued on to Kraków, where Mum and I began our long-anticipated spring holiday. After some rest in Nowy Sącz, our first shared experience was a day trip to Krynica-Zdrój, one of southern Poland’s most charming spa towns. It was everything I had hoped for—sunshine, spring air, green hills, and the soothing rhythm of a place steeped in history. We wandered through the elegant streets, admired the architecture, and took the historic funicular up to Góra Parkowa for spectacular views. That day, captured in smiles and shared silences, was a perfect opening to this holiday.

You can view our photo gallery from Krynica here:
📸 Click here for the album.

We also spent time in Nowy Sącz, soaking up the atmosphere of my hometown and enjoying long walks, home-cooked meals, and simple, meaningful time with family.

From there, we boarded a flight for Malta—and what a surprise that little island was. We had just three days, but we packed them full of exploration and discovery. Valletta immediately captivated us with its golden limestone, narrow streets, and breathtaking views of the sea. We explored St. John’s Co-Cathedral, wandered the Upper Barrakka Gardens, and soaked in the rich history that seems to rise from every stone. Mum was fascinated by how different everything was—from the Mediterranean architecture to the blend of cultures and languages. Malta was new for her, and seeing her eyes light up with curiosity and joy was a gift in itself.

Beyond Valletta, we explored the eastern and southern coasts, visited Marsaxlokk with its brightly painted fishing boats, and sampled fresh seafood at the harbour. Our day trip to Gozo and the Blue Lagoon was unforgettable. Gozo’s peaceful hills and ancient temples, especially the Ġgantija Temples, left us both speechless. To stand among ruins older than the pyramids felt surreal. The Blue Lagoon was crowded but spectacular—clear turquoise waters and white rocks shimmering in the sun. We swam, laughed, and simply enjoyed the moment.

You can browse our Malta photos here:
📸 Click here for the album.

After Malta, we returned to Kraków for a lovely day, which happened to coincide with Poland’s Constitution Day on the 3rd of May. The city was alive with flags, music, and celebration. We explored the Royal Route, paused in the courtyard of the Jagiellonian University, and enjoyed a long, delicious lunch in a Czech restaurant near the main square. The weather was perfect, the city at its most elegant, and the timing made it all the more special.

Some photos from our time in Nowy Sącz and Kraków can be found here:
📸 Click here for the album.

From there, we boarded a flight eastward—to Uzbekistan. A destination I had dreamed about for years, and an entirely new world for Mum. From the moment we landed in Tashkent, we were struck by how clean, green, and calm the city felt. Parks, fountains, tree-lined avenues, and a surprising blend of Soviet legacy and modern design gave Tashkent a unique, tranquil charm.

But it was Samarkand that stole our hearts. We spent two full days exploring the ancient city—Registan Square, Shah-i-Zinda, Bibi-Khanym Mosque. The architecture was beyond anything we expected: blue domes, intricate mosaics, golden calligraphy. Mum kept saying she felt like she had stepped into a storybook. It was hard to comprehend the scale and artistry of it all. For her, as for me, everything was new—every street offered a chance to learn and be amazed. We took our time, absorbing the colours, the textures, the sounds, and the warm hospitality.

While in Tashkent, we took a day trip to Shymkent in Kazakhstan. It was my first time in the country and Mum’s as well. Shymkent may not be a well-known tourist spot, but thanks to our incredible guide, Larisa—a kind, wise Kazakh-Russian woman—the visit became a highlight. Her stories about the region’s history, culture, and daily life resonated deeply. We talked about Soviet legacies, national identities, and the connections between past and present. The experience reminded us both of our own Polish background and the importance of memory and resilience.

You can find photos from that part of our journey here:
📸 Click here for the album.

And now, back in Nowy Sącz, we are catching our breath, enjoying family time, and embracing the gentle rhythm of spring in southern Poland. The holiday is only halfway through, and there is so much still ahead. In just a few days, Leo will be arriving from Madrid for a short visit. Together, we’ll explore Kraków again, hike to Morskie Oko, cross into Slovakia to enjoy the High Tatras, and take the traditional Spływ Dunajcem—rafting through the scenic Dunajec River Gorge.

I also hope to continue exploring small towns across southern Poland and northern Slovakia, visiting historical sites, mountain paths, and quiet cafes. But above all, I’m treasuring this time with Mum and with Paweł and Kasia—moments that, in the busy pace of everyday life, are rare and all the more meaningful.

Next week holds another special occasion: I’ll be voting in Poland’s presidential election. For the first time in years, I’ll cast my vote not in a consulate overseas but right here in Nowy Sącz. It may be a small thing, but it feels deeply grounding—to participate in democracy while physically present in the community that raised me.

Spring in Poland is beautiful—fresh and green, full of birdsong and bright mornings. I feel immense gratitude for this time: for the places we’ve seen, for the family around me, and for the promise of the days still to come.

On my way back to Caracas, I’ll have one final stop—Lisbon. Just for a day, but the thought of being in that radiant city, walking through its hilly streets, perhaps sipping a coffee near the Tagus, makes me smile already.

More stories to come. For now, I’m holding onto the beauty of the present moment, and the joy of being exactly where I need to be.
 

It’s Easter time, and I’m spending it in Caracas. The city has taken on a slower, quieter rhythm, as most people have left to spend the long holiday with their families. Some have headed to the coast, others to the countryside—five days off is not a small thing here, and Venezuelans certainly know how to make the most of it. For me, staying behind in the city has its own charm. The streets are calmer, the air feels a bit lighter, and there’s a rare kind of peace in the usually buzzing corners of Chacao.

Even though I’m not spending Easter with my family this year, I find myself in a state of anticipation. In just over a week, I’ll be heading to Europe—starting with Lisbon, and then on to Krakow. I’m counting the days. From Krakow, I’ll travel to Nowy Sącz to spend time with my Mum. It’s been too long since we last had an extended stretch of time together, and I’m really looking forward to slowing down with her, enjoying our routines, sharing meals, and catching up in the way that only happens when you’re physically close.

But this trip is also about adventure. After Poland, Mum and I will fly to Malta for a few days. Neither of us knows the island well, so we’ll be discovering it together. Valletta, Mdina, seaside walks, fresh food, the layered history of the place—all of it sounds perfect. And from there, we move on to the part of the journey that I’ve dreamed about for years: Uzbekistan.

Tashkent, Samarkand, Bukhara, and if we can manage it, Khiva. I’ve long been fascinated by the Silk Road, and to finally visit these cities of blue-tiled mosques, ancient madrasas, and sun-drenched squares is a real gift. We also hope to take a day trip from Tashkent to Shymkent in Kazakhstan—a chance to briefly cross into another country and experience something new. It will be quite the journey, but what makes it even more meaningful is that I’ll be doing it with my Mum.

And there’s a chance our little circle may grow. If things align, my Venezuelan friend who now lives in Madrid may be able to join us in Krakow for a few days. It depends on his work schedule, but we’re hopeful. Just the thought of bringing together people I love, across borders and chapters of life, fills me with quiet joy.

Caracas, meanwhile, continues to be its contradictory self. As I mentioned in my recent note to friends, work remains intense. The humanitarian space is under pressure, and the world doesn’t seem to be easing up. But I am trying to stay present and grounded. The jasmine is blooming, the sunsets are golden, and there are still small, beautiful things to hold onto.

This Easter, I’m grateful for what is coming, for what I carry, and for the simple gift of being able to look forward.

Last night, I took a spontaneous walk through the charming streets of Bello Campo in Chacao, and to my surprise, I found myself completely enchanted. It’s remarkable how close it is to where I live—practically in my backyard—and yet, somehow, I had never properly discovered it until now. That discovery made the experience even more special.

Bello Campo is a residential neighbourhood within the municipality of Chacao in eastern Caracas. While it may not have the same level of renown as Altamira or El Rosal, it has a distinct charm that makes it worth exploring. The neighbourhood is known for its peaceful tree-lined streets, colourful houses, and a strong sense of community. One of the key features of the area is Parque Bello Campo, a green and well-kept public space that is often filled with joggers, families, and dog walkers. It serves as a sort of natural lung for the neighbourhood, offering a refreshing contrast to the busy urban life surrounding it.

Historically, Bello Campo was part of a larger rural zone in the early 20th century, characterised by agricultural activity and scattered estates. With the rapid urban development of Caracas during the mid-20th century, especially in the post-oil boom era, the area evolved into a middle-class residential enclave. Over time, it retained a quieter, more family-oriented character, even as the city around it grew more chaotic and densely built.

One of the hidden gems of the neighbourhood is its proximity to the Centro Cultural Chacao, a modern space for the arts that hosts concerts, exhibitions, and theatre performances. The cultural energy from this venue seems to spill into the streets of Bello Campo, adding a creative pulse to the otherwise calm environment.

My walk through Bello Campo last night was simply wonderful. The past week had been particularly stressful at work, filled with heavy conversations and high-stakes decisions. But as I wandered through the neighbourhood, the pressure seemed to dissolve. I found myself slowing down, breathing more deeply, and simply enjoying the surroundings. The city felt different—lighter, more human.

The streets were alive with people enjoying the evening air, dogs happily trotting beside their owners, and neighbours exchanging greetings as they passed one another. Despite the late hour, the atmosphere felt safe, open, and inviting. What struck me most were the people. I met several locals along the way, and every single one of them was friendly, curious, and welcoming. Conversations flowed easily, and there was genuine joy in sharing stories with someone from outside. It reminded me, once again, of how powerful kindness and human connection can be—even with strangers, and especially in unexpected places.

Bello Campo is now firmly on my map. I’m already looking forward to going back—this time with intention—and seeing what more this lovely little corner of Caracas has to offer.

I’ve just finished reading an article that stirred something deep in me:"Capitalism co-opted humanitarianism. But we can save it". It has made me pause, reflect, and weigh the path I have chosen for myself – this work that is not just a job, but the very foundation of who I am.

The author, Paul Currion, does not pull punches. He argues that humanitarianism has become entangled with capitalism to the extent that it has been fundamentally altered. Our sector, once rooted in a radical commitment to dignity and solidarity, now increasingly operates within a system driven by competition, branding, and efficiency metrics. It is a hard truth to swallow, but one that resonates. And it made me think: is this still the work I want to do?

I am proud of the work I do. Deeply proud. It has given my life purpose, anchored me in the world, and connected me to countless individuals who inspire me every single day. But I won’t deny that lately, I have also felt moments of discomfort—of shame, even. The way the world is evolving, the way power and profit seep into the spaces meant to protect and uplift the vulnerable, sometimes makes me wonder if we are losing sight of what matters most.

Currion's article challenges us to consider whether the humanitarian system, in its current form, is even salvageable. Have we become too comfortable with our own contradictions? Are we perpetuating the very systems we claim to resist? These are not easy questions. And while my instinct is to defend what we do—to point to the lives saved, the rights defended, the disasters mitigated—I also know that defensiveness cannot substitute for reflection.

Reading the article felt like holding up a mirror. It reminded me that while the principles of humanitarianism still pulse at the heart of our work, the system surrounding it is increasingly shaped by market logic, performance indicators, branding, and competition. And while some of these elements are unavoidable, even necessary, they risk crowding out the very values we set out to defend: humanity, impartiality, solidarity, and dignity.

So again: is this still the work I want to do? The answer, for now, remains a clear yes. Because despite the frustrations, despite the increasing difficulty of separating what’s good from what’s questionable, I still believe in the core of it. I still believe in the people, in the actions taken quietly in forgotten corners of the world, in the lives changed through compassion, perseverance, and presence.

But staying in this work also means a constant reckoning. It requires effort to focus on what is noble about our mission, and at the same time, to challenge what is wrong within it. To speak up when values are sidelined, to resist the temptation of cynicism, and to keep showing up with heart and integrity.

Currion ends his article with a call to reclaim humanitarianism by embracing its roots—as a political act, as a radical form of solidarity. That struck a chord. If we are to save humanitarianism from itself, we must stop pretending we are neutral technocrats and start acting like principled agents of change.

And so today, I feel both unsettled and determined. Unsettled by how fragile our principles have become in the face of power. But determined to hold onto them anyway. To defend the values that brought me into this work, and to ensure they don’t get drowned out by noise, bureaucracy, or convenience.

Perhaps this is what it means to grow in this field: not to stop believing, but to believe harder. And to keep going, especially when it is hardest to do so.

A little over a week ago, I travelled to Spain. The trip had a special purpose: to check in on someone I care about who recently started a new life there. A person who had to leave everything behind in search of safety and dignity. Together with some friends, we had supported him in making the move, knowing how urgent and necessary it was. But even knowing that, I was not fully prepared for what I saw and felt.

Being a migrant is never easy. And if you are naturally shy and fearful of being ridiculed, it becomes even harder. Despite having a circle of support and some stability, he is confronting challenges I had never truly imagined. The popular narrative focuses so much on learning a new language, adapting to a new culture, navigating new streets and systems. That, in fact, can be the easiest part. It is often even exciting. What is far more difficult is managing your vulnerabilities and fears in an environment that, for now, is unfamiliar and unforgiving.

What I witnessed was the emotional weight of having to prove yourself constantly. The pressure from people left behind to succeed at any cost—because failure is not an option when others depend on you to survive. The inner shame of not having completed an education, of watching locals casually reference their prestigious universities and career paths, when all you ever had was the resilience to survive. It is the heavy, quiet pain of being poor in a place that often equates worth with material success. Of feeling judged just for being from “elsewhere.”

It is also about the dependencies that emerge. Feeling obliged to constantly express gratitude for even the smallest of favours, afraid that if you don’t, you will be abandoned, cut off, or seen as ungrateful. It is about a life where dignity sometimes feels conditional. And, above all, it is about the loneliness—profound and lingering—and the ache of missing home, even when home was difficult. That kind of homesickness does not always go away. It just finds quieter corners to live in.

But there is also joy. There is joy in small triumphs: in navigating bureaucracy, in finding work, in being able to pay rent, in understanding a joke in a new language, in taking the metro to a new part of town. There is joy in growing, in building a life little by little, in learning how to trust again. That joy is real. And it must be celebrated.

Still, it is hard. And for those of us who are part of the communities that receive migrants, even when our intentions are good, we often forget the quiet battles they fight every day. We don’t always see the fear, the shame, the pressure, the silent grief. We think they are lucky. But we forget that even freedom comes with a cost when you are vulnerable.

So here is a gentle reminder: let’s not take kindness for granted. Let’s not assume that someone’s quietness is indifference or ingratitude. Let us do all we can to listen more carefully, to understand more deeply, and to be just a little softer with one another. Because we never know the weight someone else is carrying—and sometimes, kindness is the only thing that makes the weight bearable.

These days, the world seems to be spinning into chaos. Politically, we are witnessing events we could never have even imagined, and it is unsettling, to say the least. The unpredictability of global affairs is truly alarming. Yet, in the midst of all this, I have been trying to keep myself grounded. Work has been my anchor—I have focused on doing it well and ensuring that I remain engaged in what I can actually influence. At the same time, I have been allowing myself some excitement because, tomorrow, I am off to Spain!

I will be visiting Leo, Marta, and her family, which I have been looking forward to for quite some time. For a week, I will be exploring Madrid and Seville, enjoying the vibrancy of these incredible cities, catching up with friends, and simply taking in the beauty of Spain. I can already imagine the bustling streets of Madrid, the charming alleyways of Seville, and the joy of simply being in a place that is so full of history and energy.

Adding to my good mood is the fact that I have now finalised my plans for a longer holiday at the end of April and into May. I will start by travelling to Nowy Sącz in Poland to spend time with Mum and family, something that always brings me great joy. This time, however, we have decided to do something special and travel together. After spending a few days in Poland, we will be heading to Malta!

Malta has always intrigued me with its stunning coastline, ancient history, and Mediterranean charm. From Valletta’s grand fortifications to the picturesque streets of Mdina, I am eager to discover what this island has to offer. Exploring its history, savouring the food, and simply enjoying the sea views with Mum will be an unforgettable experience.

After Malta, we will set off on another adventure—Uzbekistan. This is a destination that has long been on my list, and I can hardly believe that I will finally be visiting. Tashkent, the country’s capital, is known for its mix of Soviet-era architecture and Islamic heritage. But what excites me the most is visiting Samarkand. The city’s magnificent blue-tiled mosques and madrasas, particularly Registan Square, are among the most breathtaking sights in the world. Walking through its ancient streets and immersing myself in the history of the Silk Road is something I have dreamt of for years.

While in Tashkent, we also have an exciting plan—a day trip to Shymkent in Kazakhstan. This will be my first time visiting the country, and I am eager to see what it has in store. Though I know little about Shymkent, I am looking forward to experiencing a new culture, tasting Kazakh cuisine, and taking in a part of Central Asia that is still relatively unexplored by tourists.

The sheer thought of all these upcoming travels makes me incredibly happy. Not only am I visiting places that I have always wanted to see, but I get to do it with Mum, which makes it even more special. Travelling with her is always a joy, and I cherish the time we spend together on the road.

With Spain just around the corner and a grand adventure awaiting in a couple of months, I feel grateful and excited. Despite all the turmoil in the world, I am holding onto these moments of joy, exploration, and connection. After all, there is still so much beauty to experience, and I intend to embrace it fully.

The past few weeks have been incredibly busy and, at times, overwhelming. The dramatic shifts in the US government’s stance on funding international aid, particularly humanitarian aid, are having a devastating and far-reaching impact on the most vulnerable communities worldwide. These abrupt policy changes are not only endangering lives and safety but also shaking the very foundations of international cooperation and stability.

The consequences for those who rely on humanitarian aid are profound. Millions of people who depend on life-saving assistance now find themselves at even greater risk. Whether it is food security, medical aid, shelter, or protection services, the sudden withdrawal or reduction of funding has immediate and catastrophic effects. Refugees, internally displaced people, and communities affected by conflict and natural disasters are left without essential support. The organisations working on the ground are forced to make impossible decisions—who to help and who to leave behind.

In Venezuela, the situation is particularly dire. With an already fragile humanitarian landscape, any disruption in aid poses immense challenges. Alongside my colleagues from various humanitarian organisations, we are working tirelessly to continue our programmes while also seeking ways to mitigate the impacts of these new policies. The pressure is immense, and the stakes are high. We are witnessing increased malnutrition, worsening health crises, and heightened vulnerability among displaced populations. Additionally, the lack of funding means that crucial health and education programmes for children, nutritional support, and access to clean water are all at risk of being severely cut or discontinued. The impact will not only be immediate but will also have long-term consequences, particularly for communities already suffering from economic instability and displacement.

The repercussions of these policy shifts are not confined to Venezuela. In Gaza, where an already dire humanitarian crisis has been exacerbated by ongoing conflict and blockade, cuts in funding mean further shortages in essential medical supplies, food assistance, and shelter support. Hospitals, already operating under extreme duress, now face even greater challenges in treating the wounded and sick. The situation continues to deteriorate, leaving civilians with little hope for immediate relief.

In the Democratic Republic of Congo, decades of conflict have led to one of the world’s most prolonged humanitarian crises. The sudden reduction in aid threatens vital health services, particularly in areas affected by ongoing violence and displacement. The disruption of food and nutrition programmes could worsen already alarming levels of malnutrition, particularly among children. Meanwhile, those seeking refuge from armed groups find themselves with even fewer resources to survive.

Sudan, which has been struggling with political instability and an ongoing humanitarian emergency, is also facing a worsening crisis due to funding cuts. The fragile peace agreements in certain regions are at risk of collapse as essential humanitarian interventions, including food distribution and medical services, become more uncertain. The potential for renewed displacement and worsening famine conditions is a very real and immediate concern.

In Afghanistan, where humanitarian needs have skyrocketed following the Taliban’s return to power, the withdrawal of international assistance places millions of people at even greater risk. The country has already suffered from economic collapse, with aid agencies acting as a critical lifeline for millions. Cuts in funding are likely to impact emergency healthcare, food distribution, and education support, with women and children bearing the brunt of the consequences.

Bangladesh, which hosts nearly one million Rohingya refugees in overcrowded camps, also faces a humanitarian setback. The Rohingya crisis remains one of the most protracted refugee situations in the world, and a reduction in funding will further strain the already limited resources available for shelter, healthcare, and food assistance. Without continued support, the likelihood of increased suffering, disease outbreaks, and malnutrition among the refugee population rises significantly.

Yet, the stress extends beyond operational concerns. Many of my colleagues—both national and international staff—are losing their jobs and livelihoods. The loss of funding means programme closures, layoffs, and reduced capacity to deliver aid. For many, especially those from countries with limited job opportunities, the consequences are devastating. It is incredibly disheartening to see how the decisions of a few policymakers can so rapidly dismantle livelihoods and throw entire communities into deeper uncertainty.

But the impact goes beyond aid programmes and job losses. The new US policies are reshaping global alliances and undermining international structures. Economic hostilities towards Canada, China, Mexico, and the EU, alongside territorial threats towards Canada, Panama, and Greenland, further destabilise global security. Threats towards Palestine, Ukraine, and European allies, with potential repercussions in Asia and Africa, add to the sense of an impending crisis. Looking at the scale of these developments, one cannot help but wonder whether we are inching closer to World War III.

In times like these, it is difficult not to feel powerless. Grand political manoeuvres are beyond our control. Yet, in all of this, we do have a role to play. Perhaps now more than ever, simple acts of kindness, solidarity, and humanity matter. Looking after one another, offering a helping hand, standing up to hatred and intolerance—these actions carry weight. As we move towards an uncertain future, perhaps there is still an opportunity to hold onto something good, to strengthen our bonds, and to persist in making the world a little better in whatever ways we can.

Through all the chaos, I have found some solace in writing. I have recently finished revamping my photo albums, adding more detailed descriptions and organising my memories in a more structured way. You can find the links to all my albums here: https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/7d9a8e4ebb1ee5b2dbdf379b7235313b-141.html. This process has been a step towards something bigger—hopefully, the beginning of writing a memoir or a book. The stories in these albums will serve as the foundation, helping me to be more systematic in my recollections and ensuring that important moments are not lost.

Despite the challenges, there are still things to look forward to. Soon, I will be heading to Spain for one-week break. Madrid will be my main base, where I will spend time with Leo, as well as Marta and her family. If all goes well, we are also hoping to travel to Sevilla—a city I have long wanted to visit. The anticipation of travel, even if only for a short period, is a source of joy amidst the chaos.

Difficult times lie ahead, but we must keep trying. Perhaps, in the face of adversity, there is still a chance for resilience, for new beginnings, and for hope.

I’m thrilled to announce that I’ve finally got my ticket for Madrid! I’ll be taking a week-long break in March, and I couldn’t be more excited. The prospect of reconnecting with old friends and having a chance to relax is incredibly uplifting.

One of the most exciting parts of this trip is the chance to meet Leo in person. It’s been a while since we last saw each other, and I’m looking forward to catching up and checking how he is settling into his life in the new country. I’ll also be meeting Marta, Javier, and their family, which is something I’m equally eager about. Although the visit is short, the excitement and anticipation are palpable.

While most of the time will be spent in Madrid, I’m hoping to get a chance to venture outside the city as well. No specific plans yet, but I’m hopeful that Leo and I will be able to come up with something soon, whether it’s a day trip to explore a nearby area or some other adventure. The possibilities are there, and I’m looking forward to seeing where the journey takes me.

All in all, this break promises to be an exciting escape, and I’m counting the days until it begins!

Yesterday afternoon and evening, I had the pleasure of exploring the western barrios of Caracas, an adventure that turned out to be one of the most interesting of my time in Venezuela so far. While these areas are not as affluent as the part of the city where I live, they possess an undeniable charm, overflowing with life, colour, and an atmosphere of warmth and friendliness.

The trip was made possible thanks to the kindness of my Venezuelan friend, Giovanni, who generously offered to show me around in his car. Not only did he ensure that I remained safe throughout the journey, but he also made sure that I experienced the best of what these vibrant neighbourhoods have to offer. His knowledge and enthusiasm made the visit even more special.

The western barrios of Caracas, such as Catia, El Cementerio, and Antímano, are among the city’s most historic and culturally rich districts. They are home to a large portion of Caracas’ working-class population and are known for their bustling streets, colourful houses, and strong sense of community. Walking or driving through these areas, one cannot help but be mesmerised by the striking murals covering building walls, depicting local heroes, social movements, and artistic expressions that speak to the resilience of the people living there.

Catia, one of the most well-known barrios, was particularly fascinating. Historically, this area has played a significant role in Venezuela’s political and social movements. Today, it is a lively hub of street vendors, musicians, and artisans. The Mercado de Catia is an iconic spot where locals buy everything from fresh produce to household goods. Giovanni and I stopped to enjoy some local street food—delicious arepas and freshly squeezed juices that added to the authenticity of the experience.

El Cementerio, despite its name (which translates to 'The Cemetery'), is another barrio bursting with energy. It was originally developed around a historic cemetery but has grown into a dynamic residential and commercial area. The streets here are lined with small businesses, and the local markets are a sensory overload of smells, sounds, and colours. What struck me most was the sheer vibrancy of everyday life—children playing in the streets, shopkeepers enthusiastically calling out their latest offers, and families gathering outside their homes, engaged in animated conversations.

Antímano, further west, is one of the older districts of Caracas. Its steep, winding streets and colourful hillside houses are a sight to behold. This barrio is a true reflection of Caracas’ architectural diversity, where modern developments exist alongside traditional homes. The views from certain high points in Antímano are breathtaking, offering panoramic glimpses of the city framed by the lush green hills surrounding it.

What made this excursion truly remarkable was the warmth and hospitality of the people we encountered. Despite the economic and social difficulties many face, there is an incredible sense of camaraderie and joy in these neighbourhoods. Music fills the air, street art tells stories, and an undeniable spirit of resilience is ever-present.

For those who want to see a glimpse of this adventure, I have uploaded pictures from the excursion at this link: Venezuela in 2025 — the latest images can be found at the bottom of the album.

Exploring the western barrios of Caracas was a fantastic experience, one that gave me a deeper appreciation of the city’s diverse character. A huge thank you to Giovanni, who made this journey possible and ensured that I could immerse myself in this side of Caracas with both safety and enjoyment. I look forward to returning to these neighbourhoods and continuing to uncover more of their hidden gems.

Life in Caracas has been quite the experience lately. Due to work-related constraints, my ability to travel both within Venezuela and beyond its borders has been significantly limited. For someone with a constant desire to explore new places, this has been a bit frustrating. I have always had itchy feet, and staying in one place for too long does make me restless.

However, there is a silver lining. With the reduced travel, I find myself with more time to focus on personal projects that require staying put and deep concentration. One such endeavour is my early-stage book project. The process so far has been both exciting and challenging. I am currently gathering materials, reflecting on what I want to include in the book, and figuring out the best way to structure it. The book is shaping up to be a collection of life stories—memories that have defined my journey so far. If you are curious, you can get a glimpse of some of these stories in my online photo albums.

Beyond the writing itself, I am also exploring the publishing process, which is entirely new to me. I have no clear idea of how to go about it, but I am genuinely enjoying the learning curve and all the possibilities that come with it.

Although I do not have any immediate travel plans, I am considering taking a short break in March. So far, I have been thinking about Portugal and Spain as potential destinations, though nothing is set in stone. Later in the year, if everything goes well, I hope to have a longer holiday at the end of April and in May. My plans include spending quality time with my Mum and possibly travelling with her, which I am really looking forward to.

Meanwhile, February will be an incredibly busy period for me and my team at work. We will be focusing on reviewing and analysing proposals related to our humanitarian efforts in Venezuela and the broader region. It is always a time of intense workload, but it is also a rewarding and intellectually stimulating process.

On a lighter note, I am excited about the upcoming weekend because Poland will be celebrating the final of the Great Orchestra of Christmas Charity (Wielka Orkiestra Świątecznej Pomocy). This remarkable initiative raises funds for medical equipment to support hospitals across the country. I have been a passionate supporter of this cause for years, and tomorrow, I will be closely following the event to see how it unfolds. For those interested in learning more about this fantastic initiative, you can visit their official website here: https://en.wosp.org.pl/.

Despite being temporarily grounded in Caracas, there is still much to keep me busy and inspired. Whether it is writing, work, or following events from afar, there is always something to look forward to.

As the new year kicks off, I find myself reflecting on my plans for the coming weeks and months. Initially, I had envisioned ending 2025 with a break. The idea of taking a step back from work and dedicating some time to personal rest sounded enticing. Unfortunately, the realities of professional obligations had other plans for me. Despite my best efforts to carve out that time, the workload proved insurmountable, and I had to abandon my holiday aspirations.

Looking ahead, I remain optimistic about having a short break in March. However, I still do not have any concrete ideas about what to do during this time. Similarly, I am planning a more substantial holiday towards the end of April or early May, but my plans remain wide open. If anyone has good suggestions for destinations or activities, I would love to hear them.

This holiday will coincide with the period just before the European Humanitarian Forum (EHF) in Brussels, a key event in the humanitarian sector's calendar. The EHF brings together stakeholders, including policymakers, practitioners, and experts, to discuss pressing challenges and opportunities in humanitarian aid. This year, the event will be co-hosted by Poland, which currently holds the rotating presidency of the European Council. For more details about the forum, visit the official website: European Humanitarian Forum.

Balancing work and personal life is always a challenge, but the prospect of meaningful engagements like the EHF and the possibility of future holidays keeps me motivated. Here’s to navigating the weeks ahead with purpose and, hopefully, a little bit of rest along the way.

As we step into 2025, I want to extend my heartfelt wishes to each of you for a year filled with hope, health, and happiness. This new year offers us a blank canvas—a chance to dream boldly, act decisively, and embrace the opportunities ahead.

2025 is a time to renew our commitments to making a positive difference, to deepen connections with those around us, and to explore new horizons. Whether it’s through humanitarian efforts, personal achievements, or simple acts of kindness, let’s make this year one of collective growth and shared success.

This space will continue to be a place for reflections, stories, and ideas that highlight the power of resilience and unity. I look forward to sharing this journey with you and hearing your own stories of courage and hope throughout the year.

Here’s to a 2025 full of new adventures and lasting memories. Together, let’s make it extraordinary!

As 2024 comes to an end, I take a moment to reflect on a year that has been both demanding and rewarding. It has been a year filled with professional challenges, personal milestones, and journeys that reminded me of the beauty and complexity of the world.

Humanitarian Work in Venezuela

This year, my humanitarian work took me to Venezuela, a country navigating profound socio-economic hardships. The experience tested my resilience and reaffirmed my commitment to humanitarian principles.

Every day brought new challenges: managing the allocation of resources, liaising with local and international partners, and witnessing the courage of Venezuelan communities who continue to inspire with their strength and dignity. I feel privileged to have contributed to global humanitarian efforts, which represent the collective commitment of the international community to alleviate suffering and uphold human dignity.

While the financial resources allocated to humanitarian action are significant, they do not reflect any inherent superiority—or at least, I hope this is not the case. Rather, they stand as a testament to the shared humanism that unites us—a recognition of our collective responsibility to help those in need. Many of us who contribute to these efforts have simply been fortunate to grow up in circumstances that enable us to provide support. Recognising this privilege is essential to ensuring that our work remains grounded in humility, respect, and a deep sense of global solidarity.

Personal Milestones: Embracing Dual Heritage

A personal highlight this year was obtaining Portuguese citizenship. Portugal has been a second home to me, offering a sense of belonging and enriching my life in countless ways. At the same time, I remain deeply grateful for what Poland—the country of my birth—has given me. Both nations have profoundly shaped who I am today, and I embrace them equally, recognising the unique cultures and values each offers.

Receiving Portuguese citizenship is not just a legal milestone but also a celebration of the experiences that have connected me to Portugal. One of the places that continues to captivate me is Funchal, with its vibrant atmosphere and stunning landscapes. Each visit there reinforces my appreciation for this beautiful country.

Unforgettable Travels

2024 also brought opportunities to explore the world and strengthen connections with loved ones. Early in the year, I travelled with my mother to Japan and Poland. In Japan, we explored the dynamic city of Kobe, where the blend of modernity and tradition was fascinating. Although I passed through Kyoto briefly by train, the sights from the window were enough to leave an impression of its historical grandeur.

Returning to Poland, particularly Nowy Sącz, was deeply moving. Walking through the streets of my hometown and revisiting places that shaped my early years was a poignant reminder of my roots and the journey that has brought me here.

Later in the year, I found myself in the Caribbean, taking a much-needed holiday. Barbados, with its stunning beaches and the UNESCO-listed Bridgetown, offered the perfect mix of relaxation and cultural exploration. A brief stop in Trinidad and Tobago also left a lasting impression, with its vibrant culture and warm hospitality.

Challenges and Opportunities

Of course, 2024 had its share of challenges. Humanitarian work, by its nature, often means grappling with difficult realities. The scale of crises and the complexity of addressing them can be overwhelming. Sometimes, our work is questioned—occasionally for good reasons—forcing us to reflect and adapt.

In these moments, the support of friends and colleagues has been invaluable. I am especially grateful to Tahir and his wife, Amna, whose friendship and wise counsel have been a source of strength this year. Their ability to listen and share perspective has reminded me of the importance of solidarity and connection.

I also found inspiration in the resilience of my friend Leonel, who recently migrated from Venezuela to Spain. Watching him navigate the challenges of starting a new life, finding his footing in a foreign country, and slowly building his confidence has been a powerful reminder of the human capacity for adaptation and hope. Supporting him through this transition has been both a privilege and a learning experience for me.

Looking Ahead to 2025

As I look to the future, my commitment to humanitarian work remains steadfast. Despite the challenges, I believe in the power of collective action to make a difference. The road is not always easy, but the resilience of the communities we serve, and the dedication of those working in this field, continue to inspire me to persevere.

On a personal level, I look forward to new opportunities for growth, travel, and connection. Whether through work, family, or moments of quiet reflection, I hope to embrace 2025 with the same openness and determination that carried me through this year.

Gratitude and New Year Wishes

To all who have shared this year with me—colleagues, friends, family, and the communities we work with—thank you. Your support and kindness have been invaluable.

Let us welcome 2025 with hope, courage, and a shared commitment to building a better world.

Wishing you a joyful New Year filled with peace, love, and meaningful moments!

Warm regards,
Roman

(As always, you can revisit some of these moments through the photos and stories shared here on the blog. Thank you for being part of this journey.)

Lately, I’ve been thinking about South Sudan—a place that shaped me in ways I am still trying to understand. It has been nearly a decade since I last walked its dusty roads, coordinated life-saving aid, and faced the raw, unrelenting challenges of a nation in turmoil. The memories often linger, uninvited, especially one particular day—a story I have rarely shared, but which continues to haunt and teach me in equal measure.
 
It was during my tenure as the humanitarian expert in South Sudan, between 2010 and 2014. On this day, I was part of a mission to a village north of Juba that had been attacked by militias. The devastation we found upon arrival is etched into my mind: the smell of decomposing bodies under the unrelenting sun, vultures circling to scavenge, and the silence of a place emptied of life. Houses lay in ruins, blood smeared the walls of the church and the clinic—places meant to offer sanctuary had instead borne witness to unimaginable violence. It was as though the world had momentarily ceased to function, suspended in a tableau of horror.
 
The journey back to Juba that evening presented a new trial. We were stopped on a desolate stretch of road by a young man, barely older than a boy, armed with a gun. He was visibly nervous, his hands trembling as he pointed the weapon at us. We were travelling in a vehicle belonging to a humanitarian partner organisation, and the sight of this frightened youth only deepened the surrealness of the day. He barked incomprehensible words at us before switching to broken English. There were no clear demands—just a desperate, anguished scream from someone clearly battling his own demons.
 
What does one do in such moments? I don’t know if I acted out of wisdom or sheer survival instinct, but I remember speaking to him softly, keeping my hands visible, trying to project calm. We offered him food, and his response was nothing I could have anticipated. He broke down, crying like a lost child. The gun lowered, and with tears streaming down his face, he apologised for threatening us. He took the food and then walked away, his small frame disappearing into the fading light of the savannah.
 
The weight of that day still lingers. That young man, whose name I will never know, left me grappling with a profound realisation: trauma does not discriminate. The violence and suffering that had ravaged the village were, in a way, mirrored in the desperation and anguish of that boy. Both victims and perpetrators are shaped by the same brutal cycle of conflict and loss.
 
This memory, as painful as it is, remains one of the most transformative experiences of my life. It is a stark reminder of the fragility of humanity but also its resilience. In that fleeting moment, when we offered him food and received his tears, there was a connection—a recognition of shared vulnerability.
 
I have not spoken about this day much, but as the memory has been resurfacing recently, I feel compelled to honour it and the people it involved. Perhaps it is my way of making sense of it all, or maybe it is simply the right thing to do: to remember, to bear witness, and to acknowledge the lessons embedded in the most harrowing of experiences.
 
South Sudan taught me many things. It showed me the depths of human suffering, but also moments of grace and redemption. These memories are a part of me, and while they sometimes feel like scars, they are also badges of resilience, empathy, and, above all, humanity.
 
As I write this, I can still see that young man’s face. His eyes, filled with fear and sorrow, haunt me. I often wonder what became of him. Did he find peace? Was he able to escape the conflict and rebuild his life? Or was he consumed by the same cycle of violence that had shaped his world? These questions will never have answers, but they remain with me, urging me to remember his humanity amidst the chaos.
 
The village we visited that day is another lingering memory. The sheer destruction and the lives lost are a testament to the horrors that countless communities across South Sudan endured—and continue to endure. It’s difficult to reconcile such devastation with the beauty I also found in the people and landscapes of the country. South Sudan, with its rolling plains, powerful rivers, and communities brimming with resilience, is a place of stark contrasts.
 
During my years in South Sudan, I encountered so many people who fought every day to protect their dignity and their families despite the odds stacked against them. Women who would walk for hours to collect water or find firewood, men who laboured to rebuild homes that had been destroyed time and again, and children who smiled and played, even when the world around them was crumbling. Their strength is humbling.
 
That day on the road also taught me something deeply personal about the work we do as humanitarians. It reminded me that even in the darkest moments, small acts of kindness and understanding can have a profound impact. Sometimes, the act of simply acknowledging someone’s pain—offering food, a gesture of reassurance, or a word of compassion—can shift a situation from one of violence to one of connection. It is a lesson I carry with me in every mission, every meeting, and every decision I make.
 
As the years have passed, my career has taken me far from South Sudan. Yet the experiences I had there have never left me. They shape the way I approach humanitarian work and my interactions with the people I encounter. I strive to see the humanity in every individual, to understand the complexities of their experiences, and to approach each situation with humility.
 
To those who have lived through South Sudan’s conflict, who have lost loved ones, and who have faced unimaginable challenges, I carry your stories with me. To that young man on the road, whose vulnerability revealed to me the enduring humanity beneath the violence, I hope you found a path forward. And to myself, I remind that these memories, though painful, are a testament to the importance of the work we do.
 
This story is not easy to share. But as I sit here in Caracas, so many miles and years away from that road north of Juba, I feel the need to bear witness. It is my way of honouring the people I met, the lessons I learned, and the humanity that continues to inspire me in the face of despair. These stories are not just mine; they are part of the collective memory of everyone who has worked and lived in South Sudan. By sharing them, I hope they serve as a reminder of the resilience of the human spirit and the profound impact of even the smallest acts of compassion.
 

Dear Friends,

As 2024 comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on a year that has been filled with incredible journeys, meaningful connections, and milestones that I will cherish forever. I hope this message finds you well and that you’re ending the year surrounded by love, warmth, and peace.

This year was especially significant for me as I officially became a Portuguese citizen. I am now a proud national of two countries, and this fills me with immense gratitude. Portugal, and especially the beautiful town of Óbidos, holds a very special place in my heart. The warmth of its people, its unique charm, and its deep cultural heritage make it a place where I feel truly at home. I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity to call Portugal my second home and to carry this connection with me wherever I go.

The year has also been filled with travel, which continues to be one of the greatest joys in my life. The highlight of 2024 was without a doubt my trip to Japan with my Mum. All the journeys I’ve shared with her over the years have been extraordinary, but this one was particularly special. There’s something magical about discovering the world with her—she’s an incredible travel companion, full of curiosity, kindness, and the best sense of humour. Together, we explored Kobe’s serene gardens, marvelled at Tokyo’s vibrant energy, and shared countless laughs over the delights of Osaka. I feel so incredibly lucky to be able to experience the world with her, and I truly hope that we’ll be able to plan another adventure together soon.

Among the many surprises this year was my short but fascinating visit to Trinidad and Tobago. It wasn’t a destination I had planned extensively, but it ended up being a delightful revelation. The islands’ vibrant cultural diversity, the friendliness of the people, and the sheer beauty of the landscapes left a deep impression on me. From the delicious local cuisine to the lively rhythms of the music that seem to fill the air everywhere you go, Trinidad and Tobago felt like a celebration of life. It’s a place I’d love to return to, and one that I’d encourage anyone to experience if they get the chance.

Other journeys took me to Washington, D.C., where I reconnected with the history and energy of the city, and to Panama, which welcomed me back with its warmth and vibrancy. France, Belgium, and Luxembourg were a mix of work and pleasure, allowing me to enjoy the elegance of Lille, the bustling energy of Brussels, and the tranquil charm of Luxembourg. Poland, as always, brought me a sense of grounding and the irreplaceable joy of spending time with family, especially Mum. Turkey amazed me with its vibrant bazaars, breathtaking landscapes, and rich history, rounding out what has been a remarkable year of travel.

Now, I find myself in Caracas, Venezuela, preparing to spend Christmas and New Year here. Venezuela is breathtaking, with its stunning landscapes and vibrant culture, but it’s the people who have truly touched my heart. My Venezuelan colleagues and friends are extraordinary—resilient, warm, and full of life. Working here has been incredibly fulfilling, and even after so many years in the humanitarian sector, I feel deeply grateful for the chance to do this work and to collaborate with such inspiring professionals from all over the world.

This year has also been shaped by the incredible people in my life. Leo, my friend who recently moved from Venezuela to Madrid, is someone I hold in high regard. I met him while living in Caracas, where he worked as my housekeeper. Leo comes from a very humble background and has faced numerous challenges throughout his life, yet he has always carried himself with kindness, determination, and grace.

Since moving to Madrid, Leo has shown remarkable resilience. He has already taken important steps to establish himself, including opening a bank account, securing health insurance, and applying for a student visa with a work permit. In January, he will start a professional training course, and he has also begun the process of volunteering with the Spanish Red Cross to support others while integrating into his new community. While he knows that volunteering won’t bring financial independence, he sees it as a chance to give back, integrate into his new community, and gain valuable experience. Leo’s courage and optimism are truly inspiring, and I am so proud of his progress. If you can offer him any support—be it advice, connections, or a kind word—it would mean so much to both of us.

Another story that brought me great joy this year is that of a young Colombian friend I met in 2019 in Panama. At the time, he was struggling to find his way, but through his hard work and determination, he has since built a small business that employs others. What moves me most is how he treats his employees—with respect and care, ensuring they feel valued. Stories like his remind me of the incredible potential we all have to overcome challenges and thrive.

While in Barbados, I also met a Venezuelan woman who fled her home to escape abuse. Barbados gave her the chance to rebuild her life, and she embraced it with strength and determination. She learned English, adapted quickly, and now works as a tour operator, sharing her passion for her adopted country with visitors. Her grace, professionalism, and passion were deeply inspiring, and meeting her was a reminder of the power of resilience and opportunity.

Looking ahead, 2025 promises to be another year filled with adventures and travels. I look forward to exploring new destinations, revisiting cherished ones, and, most importantly, crossing paths with many of you. The connections I share with all of you are among the greatest joys of my life, and I am endlessly grateful for your friendship and support.

As we approach the festive season, I wish you happiness, peace, and joy, however you choose to celebrate—or even if you don’t celebrate at all. May this time bring moments of connection and reflection, wherever in the world you may be.

Thank you for being part of my journey this year. Here’s to 2025—a year of hope, kindness, and new adventures!

Warmest wishes,
Roman

After a week of sun, sea, and exploration, I’m back in Caracas, feeling rejuvenated and grateful for the experiences of my recent travels. My journey took me to the captivating shores of Barbados and the vibrant islands of Trinidad and Tobago, and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to recharge as the year draws to a close.

Barbados was everything I imagined and more. Bridgetown, with its historic streets and UNESCO-listed charm, was a highlight, offering a perfect blend of cultural richness and coastal beauty. From the lively rhythms of its markets to the serene turquoise waters lapping against its shores, the island left an indelible mark on me.

My brief stopover in Trinidad and Tobago was just as rewarding. While my time there was short, the vibrancy of the culture, the warm hospitality of the people, and the lush, tropical landscapes were unforgettable. It’s a destination that leaves you wanting more, and I’m already dreaming of a return visit.

For those interested, I’ve created two photo galleries capturing the essence of these adventures. You can explore my Barbados gallery and my Trinidad and Tobago gallery to see the highlights of these incredible places.

Now back in Caracas, I find myself in a reflective mood, both looking back on the experiences of this year and ahead to what’s next. December is always a balancing act—tying up loose ends at work while preparing for the holidays. It’s a time to both reflect on the journey of the past 12 months and lay the groundwork for the year to come.

As part of my year-end tradition, I’m working on a Christmas Letter, which I’ll be sharing soon. It’s my way of reconnecting with friends and loved ones, and of celebrating the connections that make each year so meaningful.

For now, I’m settling into the rhythm of the holiday season, grateful for the adventures that 2024 has brought and excited for what lies ahead in 2025. Stay tuned for more updates, musings, and perhaps a few surprises as we close out the year together.

As I pen this post from the vibrant streets of Bridgetown, Barbados, with the gentle Caribbean breeze brushing past me, I am filled with gratitude for the experiences of the past week. The islands of Trinidad and Tobago and Barbados have not only offered me their natural beauty but also a cultural richness and warmth that will stay with me long after I leave.

The Vibrant Soul of Trinidad and Tobago

My journey began in Trinidad and Tobago, a twin-island nation brimming with contrasts. Trinidad welcomed me with its bustling urban energy. Port of Spain’s lively streets were a sensory feast: from the aromatic scents of doubles at a street vendor to the vibrant sounds of soca and calypso that seemed to echo everywhere.

Venturing into the lush greenery of the Northern Range, I found myself surrounded by nature’s bounty. The Asa Wright Nature Centre felt like stepping into another world—a paradise of exotic birds, shimmering waterfalls, and dense rainforests. And of course, there was Tobago, its serene beaches offering a stark contrast to Trinidad’s dynamism. The unspoiled charm of Pigeon Point and the calm waters of Buccoo Reef were perfect for moments of quiet reflection.

Barbados: A Living History

From the minute I landed in Barbados, it was clear that this island dances to its own rhythm. The UNESCO-listed area of Bridgetown and its Garrison was my first stop. Walking through its streets felt like travelling back in time, with colonial architecture whispering stories of the past. Yet, there’s a modern vibrancy here, where the old meets the new in perfect harmony.

The highlight of my time in Barbados has undoubtedly been connecting with its people. There’s an undeniable warmth in their hospitality, a genuine pride in their island’s culture, and a love for life that’s infectious. It’s easy to see why Bajans hold a special place in the heart of those who visit.

Exploring the island’s coastline was another unforgettable experience. From the rugged beauty of Bathsheba to the serene beaches of the west coast, the contrast is stunning. And then there’s the food—flying fish, cou-cou, and the sweet aroma of freshly baked Bajan bread were constant reminders that this island is a sensory treasure trove.

Reflections

What struck me most about both islands was their resilience and creativity. Despite their small size, Trinidad and Tobago and Barbados are cultural powerhouses, each proudly showcasing their unique identities. Yet, beneath their differences lies a shared Caribbean spirit—a love for community, celebration, and storytelling.

As I prepare to return to Caracas, I know this trip will linger in my memory. Whether it’s the rhythm of steelpan music in my ears or the view of a Bajan sunset etched in my mind, the Caribbean has left its mark on me.

For now, I’ll savour my last few days in Barbados, soaking in the final rays of tropical sunshine and promising myself that this is not a goodbye, but a ‘see you later.’

I’m absolutely delighted to share that this Saturday, I’ll be embarking on a one-week holiday to Barbados, with a brief stop in Trinidad and Tobago. It’s been an incredibly demanding few months, and I’m long overdue for some rest and relaxation. The prospect of sunny skies, crystal-clear waters, and the vibrant energy of the Caribbean feels like the perfect antidote to my current exhaustion.

Barbados has always been a dream destination for me. I’m particularly excited to explore Bridgetown, especially the areas that have earned their place on the UNESCO World Heritage List. Wandering through the historic streets, soaking in the island’s rich cultural heritage, and visiting other cultural sites will undoubtedly be highlights of the trip. And, of course, I’ll make it my mission to savour the local cuisine – I hear the flying fish and rum punch are not to be missed!

Beyond the cultural wonders, I’m truly looking forward to immersing myself in the island’s natural beauty. Whether it’s gazing out at the endless blue of the ocean, walking along pristine sandy beaches, or simply listening to the soothing rhythm of the waves, I can already imagine how calming and rejuvenating it will be. The Caribbean’s unique ability to seamlessly blend tranquillity with vibrancy is something I can’t wait to experience firsthand.

Before landing in Barbados, I’ll have a brief stop in Trinidad and Tobago, which I’m equally excited about. Although it’s a short visit, I hope to get a small taste of its lively culture and maybe even hear some steelpan music – the heartbeat of the islands.

This trip is not just about relaxation; it’s also about rediscovering a sense of adventure and joy. I’m looking forward to disconnecting from the usual hustle and embracing the rhythm of island life.

I’ll be sure to share plenty of photos and updates along the way. Stay tuned for what promises to be a vibrant and rejuvenating experience!

As I sit down to write this post, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the past two weeks, which were full of joy, surprises, and exciting plans for the coming days.

First and foremost, I want to share that I recently celebrated my birthday, and thanks to my incredible friends, it turned into an unforgettable experience. In fact, I had not just one, but two separate celebrations! Both parties were filled with laughter, great food and the warm company of people who made me feel truly cherished. It was a reminder of how lucky I am to be surrounded by such a caring community, especially in a place as dynamic and, at times challenging as Caracas. Thank you to everyone who made my birthday special!

Adding to the highlights of recent weeks, I had the pleasure of attending the celebration of the National Day of Poland at the Polish Embassy in Caracas. The event was truly special, and I enjoyed meeting new people, particularly members of the Polish community who have settled here in Venezuela. It was heartwarming to connect with fellow Poles, exchange stories, and share a moment of cultural pride so far from home.

On the professional front, after a longer break, I am finally heading out on a work mission to the State of Sucre. This trip has been on my mind for quite some time, and I am thrilled to be getting back into the field. During this visit, I will be checking in on various humanitarian projects, which is always a rewarding and eye-opening experience. There is nothing quite like seeing the impact of our collective efforts first-hand and connecting with the communities we aim to support. I will be leaving tomorrow and expect to return to Caracas by Wednesday evening. It promises to be a packed schedule but one that I am truly excited about.

Looking ahead, the first week of December holds much-anticipated break as I will be heading to Barbados for some holiday downtime. The thought of relaxing on a beach, exploring the culture, and enjoying the warm hospitality of the island is giving me plenty to look forward to. I can hardly wait!

A quick update on Leo: he has now been in Madrid for three weeks and is settling in well. The initial days were busy as he navigated the essentials of starting a new life in a foreign country, including opening a bank account, obtaining health insurance, and preparing all the necessary paperwork for his student visa and work permit. The great news is that his application has been submitted, and our lawyer remains optimistic about a positive outcome in the coming months. Leo is adjusting well, discovering the city, and, amusingly, experiencing his first bout of true European cold weather! He is grateful for the overwhelming support from everyone who has helped hi get to this point!

As for Christmas, I will be spending the holiday in Caracas, which I am eagerly looking forward to. It will be wonderful to celebrate with friends and enjoy the festive spirit here.

Finally, I will be updating the photo galleries from my upcoming trips and posting them online, so stay tuned on more snapshots and stories from my journeys (for now you can peep in into latest Venezuela photos, by clicking at this link).

Until next time, take care and thank you for being a part of my life's adventures!

Today is my birthday, and it's given me a chance to pause and reflect on the journey so far. Celebrating here in Caracas, I feel grateful for the experiences, challenges and personal growth that this year has brought. While life here hasn't always been easy, it's shaped my perspective, reminding me of the importance of resilience, adaptability, and, perhaps most importantly, staying grounded. This birthday, I'm feeling a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude for all that I've learned and achieved, both in my work and in my personal life.

Work has kept me busy, yet lately, I've found it less overwhelming. The steady rhythm is allowing me to catch my breath a bit, creating space to appreciate each day—even amid the familiar chaos. The celebration yesterday (we had a party yesterday) felt special, shared with friends and colleagues who have become like family here. Those moments make the time in Caracas richer and remind me why I do what I do.

But as much as I love this work and place, I am also looking forward to something I haven't had in a while: a real holiday. After months of being grounded in Caracas, I've finally booked a trip to Barbados for a week, with a quick stopover in Trinidad and Tobago. It's the kind of break I've been raving for ages—a chance to unwind, explore, and simply be.

In Barbados, I am planning on taking things slow. I can't wait to explore the island, go sightseeing, and take long walks along the beaches and in the towns. I'm looking forward to absorbing the Caribbean atmosphere, discovering the local flavours, meeting new people and getting a feel of the rhythm of island life. It's a much-needed escape, and the promise of warm sun, blue waters, and a change of scenery feels like the perfect way to reset and recharge.

So here's to another year, to all that lies ahead, and to the gift of time to reconnect and reflect. I'll be sharing updates from the journey and hopefully some fantastic photos—stay tuned for a taste of the Caribbean!

Life and work continue to be challenging here in Caracas, but there are some positive developments too. My visa extension has finally been granted, which gives me much-needed peace of mind and flexibility to plan my personal life a bit better. Now, I can start thinking about travelling to rest and visiting family and friends. This is really good news.

Another piece of good news is that, together with some good friends, we are about to finalise a deal to help someone in need secure a scholarship for studies in Spain. I will refrain from providing all the details yet, as some final arrangements still need to be made, but things look positive for the young person in question, and this makes me very happy! Hopefully, by the end of October, I will be able to share all the details about this exciting development.

I hope all of you are well, wherever in the world you may be reading this message.

Lately, I've found myself caught in the relentless tide of stress at work. The demands and pressures have been overwhelming, leaving me feeling drained and exhausted. Each day seems to bring a new challenge, a new hurdle to overcome. Unfortunately, I can't delve into the specifics of why things are so complicated, but trust me, it's been a tough ride.

Yet, amidst this whirlwind, I've noticed a subtle shift within myself. I'm beginning to adapt, to fund a rhythm in the chaos. The stress, while still present, no longer feels as insurmountable as it did at the beginning of August. It's as if I'm learning to dance in the rain, finding moments of calm and clarity even in the storm.

In these challenging times, I've found solace in the small joys of life. Whether it's spending time with friends and positive people, watching a good movie, or simply enjoying a quiet moment with a cup of green tea, these positive personal experiences have been my anchor. They remind me that there is still beauty and happiness to be found, even when things seem bleak.

I hold onto the hope that the coming months will bring solutions and a sense of balance. I believe that with time, both my work and personal life will improve, and I'll find myself in a better place altogether.

To anyone else facing similar struggles, know that you're not alone. We all have our battles, but together we can find our way through the storm.

Stay well everyone! Greetings from rainy but beautiful Caracas.

The past few weeks in Caracas have been incredibly stressful work-wise. Without going into too much detail, I've essentially been working around the clock since the end of July, and I must admit, it has started to take its toll. I'm feeling quite tired.

The good news is that I have some wonderful friends here in the city. We make a point of looking out for one another, ensuring that none of us gets 'burned out.' In this spirit, a few days ago, I was invited and kindly ‘convinced’ to take a Saturday off at the beach in Naiguatá, on the Caribbean Sea (about 30 km from Caracas).

We had a fantastic day out in nature – chatting, enjoying some delicious food, and sharing plenty of laughter. It was a perfect day, filled with great company and forgetting all the worries of the world!

I certainly managed to recharge my batteries a bit! If you’d like to see how we enjoyed the day, just have a look at this link and scroll down to the bottom of the album.

I realise that I've been rather quiet over the past few weeks. I haven't been able to stay in touch or write updates as I've been extremely busy with work, and I genuinely have been working hard these last few weeks.

For those who are concerned, I want to reassure you that I'm doing well—just a bit tired, but all in all, very well indeed!

As soon as I have a bit more time, I'll write a longer post. In the meantime, I wish you all the best and hope everyone is doing well!

Latest newsletter:

Dear Friends,

I hope this email finds you all well and happy. Those in the northern hemisphere enjoying summer, while those in the south are hopefully getting some pleasant chills and perhaps even the joys of winter!

In a few weeks' time, I will be celebrating my first anniversary in Venezuela. When reflecting on my time here, the first thing that comes to mind is a sense of utmost gratitude and privilege to be spending a part of my life in this country. I dare say that I have simply fallen in love with Venezuela and its people. The country is breathtakingly beautiful in terms of landscapes. Towns and cities are full of colour and charm. Surprisingly, even Caracas, which internationally has a poor reputation, is nothing like what I initially expected. Despite all the odds, it is an exciting and bustling metropolis, filled with culture, charming cafés and restaurants, and very distinctive neighbourhoods. Some parts of the city may not be ‘obviously beautiful’, they could even be considered ugly, but when you give them a try and immerse yourself slowly in their cultural and social textures, you suddenly have to give in and fall in admiration! I suppose you have guessed what I wanted to say… it is more about the people rather than just buildings. All of a sudden, when you enjoy and appreciate people, everything looks colourful and tempting, even grey blocks and endless shanty towns. Again, you may have guessed it: I find the people of Caracas, and Venezuelans in general, to be some of the friendliest on the planet. As people are so easy and accommodating, I have managed to make multiple friendships. I have come to know a variety of local people who have kind of adopted me and look after me here. They represent people from many walks of life. Some are families of befriended taxi drivers, some are local shop owners, casually acquainted artists, or business people. It is probably one of the few times that I remember that during my professional posting I have more local than international friends (although I have some amazing international friends and colleagues as well). I like my life here very much!

As far as work goes, I enjoy working here a lot as well. The team I work with here in Caracas, but also in my regional office in Panama City and finally at HQ in Brussels, is very competent, hard-working but also extremely friendly and what I call ‘human’. The humanitarian context in this country is very complex and worrying at the same time. For various reasons (one of them being that I do not want to bore you) I will spare you the details, but just mention that levels of poverty are mind-boggling, and more often than not these translate into humanitarian suffering for millions of people. Access to basic health, potable water, widespread food insecurity, and conflicts cause unnecessary deaths, malnutrition, and diseases, and also force people to migrate within the country or out of it. These migrations frequently cause abuse, and assault and tend to end up tragically with people often falling victim to slavery or, in many cases, dying. It feels frustrating to be able to do so little to assist. Despite working really hard, because of strains on resources, very limited access to people in need (for a variety of political, logistical, or physical reasons), we only are able to reach a small part of those who should be supported. Sometimes, I think that working in this ‘business’ for such a long time, I should get used to this reality, but somehow this is not happening. Seeing the people suffer the way they do here genuinely makes me feel impotent, sad, and sometimes angry. It takes a lot of energy to work with these negative feelings, so that they can be a source of motivation. I need to admit, this is a difficult posting from that perspective.

I do have some ‘out of Venezuela’ experiences as well! Just a few months ago, I visited Mum in Poland, and together we ventured on a wonderful trip to Japan. We visited Tokyo, Mount Fuji, and Kobe. You can’t even realise how happy and glad I was to be able to travel with Mamma. Experiencing a new country, which is so different to Poland or Europe was so special. While I loved Japanese food and architecture, Mum seemed to have enjoyed the parks, plants, and nearly-perfect organisation 'of everything'. Besides Japan, we also travelled around Poland, with a memorable visit to the breathtaking city of Wroclaw and the nearby (Disney-like) Castle of Ksiaz. When travelling around Japan and Poland, Mamma and I had a chance to meet some of my former colleagues and friends whom I had not seen for ages. My Japanese friend, currently based in Tokyo with whom I used to work in South Sudan, and then my Australian friend, visiting Warsaw, based in Ukraine, with whom I worked in Ethiopia. Meeting them was wonderful. It was also great that Mum had a chance to get to know them, as somehow, it gives her a bit of insight into why it is that I enjoy my work so much.

I should also mention to those of you interested in following the life of Tahir that he is well. He and his sweetheart, now wife, Amna, live on the outskirts of Toronto, and are happy! I only regret that I have fewer chances to see them personally. The fact that Tahir still does not have a Canadian passport, and the fact that travelling out of Venezuela is a bit more challenging and costly compared to a lot of other places, makes these reunions difficult. Hopefully, Tahir will soon be able to finalise his Canadian naturalisation processes, and this should make his travels less restrictive. Can’t wait to see them both, even if we speak and communicate often.

Talking of naturalisations, I am also pleased to inform you that I am now officially a naturalised citizen of Portugal (hurrah), and therefore a proud dual national of my native Poland and adopted Portugal.

Finally, I should advise you that in a week, Venezuela goes to the polls to choose the new president. While observing the politics and the electoral process is very interesting to me, as a foreigner, many Venezuelans are worried about the future of their country, even if at the same time, there is a strong sense of optimism as well. While no one really knows how the situation will evolve, there is a possibility (even if not hugely likely) that after the election, the country may experience some disturbances. This, in turn, may mean cuts to the internet and challenging communication. I am writing about this, as it may be somehow challenging to contact me. If that happens, please rest assured that I am well looked after by my organisation and well prepared to go through whatever may be coming.

I will be finalising this message before it becomes too long. Please do write when you can. I will be so happy to hear from you. As a reminder, you can reach me either at info@romanmajcher.eu.

And here is the link to my latest photo albums in case you would like to have a look: https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/7d9a8e4ebb1ee5b2dbdf379b7235313b-141.html.

Sending my warmest regards to all of you,
Roman

There is only one week left until the presidential election in Venezuela. The entire country is in the midst of preparations for the event. Political rivals are campaigning, and people are making up their minds on how to vote.

As a foreigner, I feel excited to observe the process and look forward to the outcome. Yet, I am aware that the results will have an immense impact on the lives of millions in this amazing country. While I will refrain from expressing my preferences, I genuinely hope and wish that the election will be a great celebration of the wishes of the people of Venezuela.

While we all hope that the process will be peaceful and joyful, I wish all my Venezuelan friends that their dreams come true, whatever those dreams may be!

You may have heard that Hurricane Beryl caused significant devastation across various countries in the Caribbean Sea. Jamaica, Barbados, Grenada, and St. Vincent and the Grenadines have been severely affected, and aid and recovery operations are ongoing.

Sadly, as the media report, the northern province of Sucre in Venezuela has also been badly impacted, with many thousands of people losing their homes and properties. The destruction is severe. Given my job, I am sure you can rightly guess that I am very interested in following up on the overall situation. The last nine days have been filled with attempts to understand the needs and support those who are working tirelessly to address them. The work has been emotional in many ways, as it is truly heartbreaking to see people enduring so much suffering. Hopefully, the efforts of countless people delivering aid to those affected will bring at least some relief to those in need. Here, my gratitude and words of highest respect go to the teams of Venezuela Civil Protection, as well as the local Red Cross, doing truly heroic work in helping the affected people.

Today, I am stepping out into the vibrant streets of Caracas, joining many others in the annual Pride March. This is not just another event on the calendar; it is a significant, powerful statement of solidarity, visibility, and resistance. As I prepare to march, I feel pride, excitement, and a deep sense of happiness. Here’s why this march is so important to me.

Pride is a celebration of our diverse identities and the beautiful spectrum of human experiences. In a world that often tries to fit people into narrow boxes, Pride is a time to break free and celebrate the unique and varied ways in which we express ourselves. Today, I march to celebrate the richness of our community—our different stories, backgrounds, and identities. Each person marching is a vibrant thread in the colourful tapestry of humanity, and I am honoured to be a part of it.

The fight for LGBTQ+ rights is far from over, especially in places where legal protections and societal acceptance are still lacking. In Venezuela, as well as in my native Poland, the struggle for equal rights and recognition continues, and today’s march is a powerful reminder that we must keep pushing forward. I march to stand up for the rights of my LGBTQ+ siblings, to demand equality, and to insist that our voices be heard. This march is a protest against discrimination and an assertion of our right to live freely and openly.

Today, I march to honour the trailblazers who paved the way for today's generation. The history of the LGBTQ+ movement is filled with brave individuals who risked everything for the rights and freedoms we enjoy today. From the Stonewall Riots to local activists who have tirelessly worked for change, their courage and determination inspire me. By marching, I pay tribute to their legacy and commit to continuing their fight for justice and equality.

The Pride March is not just about celebrating the present but also about envisioning a better future. I march for a world where everyone, regardless of how they identify, can live without fear of prejudice or violence. I march for future generations, so that they can grow up in a world that embraces them for who they are. Every step we take today is a step towards a more inclusive and compassionate society.

There is something profoundly uplifting about coming together with others who share your struggles and dreams. Pride is a time to connect, support, and uplift one another. Today, I march to foster a sense of community and solidarity. In a world that can often feel isolating, Pride reminds us that we are not alone. Together, we are stronger, and our collective voice can bring about meaningful change.

As I join the Pride March in Caracas today, I do so with a heart full of hope and determination. I march to celebrate, to protest, to honour, and to envision a better world. This march is a powerful reminder of our collective strength and the importance of standing together. No matter where you are or who you love, you deserve to be seen, heard, and valued. Today, we march for a world where everyone can live with pride.

Happy Pride!

PS. The pictures from the event will follow soon!

Last week, as you may remember, I participated in work meetings where we discussed planning for our work in 2025. One major topic we need to address is the forced migration of millions across the American continent. To illustrate the scale and gravity of this issue, I thought it would be helpful to highlight the following points:

Forced Migration in the Americas

Forced migration has been a significant, often tragic, component of the history of the Americas. From the transatlantic slave trade to modern-day displacement due to conflict and environmental disasters, forced migration shapes the demographics, cultures, and societies of the continent.

The Transatlantic Slave Trade

One of the most brutal forms of forced migration in the Americas was the transatlantic slave trade. Between the 16th and 19th centuries, millions of Africans were forcibly taken from their homelands and transported across the Atlantic to work in plantations, mines, and homes across the Americas. The Middle Passage, as it was known, was notorious for its inhumane conditions, with high mortality rates due to disease, malnutrition, and abuse.

The impact of the transatlantic slave trade was profound, altering the social and economic landscapes of the Americas. It entrenched racial hierarchies and systems of oppression that continue to affect societies today. Nevertheless, the cultural contributions of African slaves are a testament to their resilience and have significantly enriched the cultural fabric of the Americas.

Indigenous Displacement

Indigenous populations across the Americas have also experienced significant forced migrations. The arrival of European settlers led to the widespread displacement of Native American, First Nations, and other indigenous communities. In the United States, policies such as the Indian Removal Act of 1830 resulted in the infamous Trail of Tears, where thousands of Native Americans were forced to relocate from their ancestral lands to designated "Indian Territory."

In Central and South America, Spanish and Portuguese colonisers similarly displaced indigenous populations, often through violent means. The legacy of these displacements is still evident today, with many indigenous groups continuing to fight for land rights and cultural preservation.

Contemporary Issues/Conflict-Induced Displacement

In the modern era, forced migration in the Americas often results from conflict. Countries like Colombia have experienced prolonged internal conflicts that have displaced millions of people. The Colombian civil war, involving government forces, paramilitaries, and guerrilla groups like the FARC, has forced countless families to flee their homes, seeking safety within the country or as refugees abroad.

Similarly, political instability and violence in Central American countries such as El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala have driven large numbers of people to migrate, often undertaking perilous journeys to seek asylum in the United States. The phenomenon of "caravans" of migrants travelling together for safety and solidarity has captured international attention, highlighting the desperation and determination of those fleeing violence and poverty.

Environmental Displacement

Climate change and environmental disasters are increasingly contributing to forced migration in the Americas. Hurricanes, floods, and droughts have devastating effects, particularly on vulnerable communities. The Caribbean and Central American regions are notably susceptible to such events, with hurricanes regularly displacing thousands of people.

Additionally, slow-onset environmental changes, such as desertification and sea-level rise, threaten livelihoods and habitats, prompting migration. For instance, coastal communities in places like the Caribbean islands and the Gulf Coast of the United States face existential threats from rising sea levels, leading to both temporary and permanent displacement.

The Response to Forced Migration

Addressing forced migration in the Americas requires a multifaceted approach. Governments, international organisations, and civil society must work collaboratively to provide humanitarian assistance, ensure the protection of human rights, and create pathways for legal migration.

Moreover, addressing the root causes of forced migration is crucial. This involves promoting peace and stability, fostering economic development, and tackling climate change. For indigenous communities, this also means respecting land rights and cultural autonomy.

In conclusion, it is fair to state that forced migration in the Americas is a complex issue rooted in historical injustices and exacerbated by contemporary challenges. Understanding its causes and consequences is essential for developing effective and compassionate responses. By acknowledging the resilience of those who have been displaced and addressing the systemic issues that force people to leave their homes, the Americas can move towards a more just and equitable future.

Some of you may remember that eight years ago, I decided to make Portugal my second home. As my life has turned into a never-ending journey involving countless travels around the world, it is somewhat difficult to define what home is in my case. Having written this, I am very happy that Portugal has become, along with Poland, my European base, or homeland, if you will. As far as I feel about it, I treat Portugal and Poland as my emotional homes. Both of these places are dear to me, and I visit them frequently. You will therefore not be surprised to read how overjoyed I was last week. Finally, after years of waiting, I received confirmation that I have become a naturalised Portuguese citizen. My Portuguese birth certificate has been issued, which confirms that I am Portuguese and allows me to apply for a Portuguese ID card and a passport (which I will be doing here at the Portuguese Consulate in Caracas).

So this time, I am writing to you as a proud Portuguese/Polish dual national, celebrating with joy!

I am travelling to Panama tomorrow. It will be a short visit for work. During my four days in the country, I will be meeting with colleagues from my organisation to discuss our operational plans for 2024 (for the LAC region). In the evenings, I will be catching up with old friends who are based in Panama City. I am really looking forward to the trip, however short it may be!

As you might have gathered from my previous posts, I had an incredible time on my European/Asian holiday. Travelling with Mum around Japan and Poland was both special and fun, creating plenty of cherished memories. My short layover in Istanbul on the way back to Caracas was equally amazing. The Turkish metropolis is simply breathtaking, and if you haven’t been, I highly recommend a visit.

Now, I’m back in Caracas, balancing a busy work schedule with enjoying life here. We’re all gearing up for the Venezuelan national elections, which are crucial not only for the country but also for our work. No matter the outcome, we will need to adjust our programmes and strategies to align with the new landscape.

Next week, I’m off to Panama City for meetings with our regional teams. We’ll be discussing our work in Venezuela and the LAC region for 2025, and I’m really looking forward to it. Plus, travelling to Panama always means reconnecting with old friends, which is a lovely bonus.

Stay tuned for more updates soon!

The time spent with Mum, family, and friends during this holiday is nearing its end. Tomorrow, I am travelling to Istanbul, where I will stay for a day and a half, before taking a long flight back to Caracas.

I absolutely loved my holiday. Visiting Turkey, Japan, and Poland was wonderful.

Just have a look at these three photo albums:

Turkey and Poland; Japan; Poland

The holiday I am having is amazing and relaxing. After a very pleasant stay in Istanbul and Japan, I am enjoying a wonderful week here in Poland, spending time with Mum, visiting family, and discovering new places (follow this link to the album, the album will include new photos as we travel).

Today, together with Mum, my niece Zosia, and our neighbour – my mother's friend – we will travel to western Poland to visit the amazing Ksiaz Castle and then pay a visit to the famous Wroclaw. We will be travelling for three days. I am really excited and looking forward to it.

At the end of the week, I will be packing and preparing to visit Turkey for two days, just before returning to Caracas.

Enjoying my holiday to the fullest!

I have finished working in a site compiling links to all of the photo galleries that I have available on 'Google Photos'.

Capturing moments through photography is an exhilarating experience, but the real magic happens when we revisit those snapshots. For me, photography isn't just about freezing time; it's a means to document my life's journey, the places I've traveled, the faces I've encountered, and the vibrant tapestry of cultures and environments that surround me. I don't wield my camera to chase profit or admiration. Instead, the photos in my albums serve as portals to cherished memories, preserving the essence of each moment in vivid detail. Through photography, I immortalise the stories of my life, ensuring that they remain vibrant and alive for years to come.

Enjoy your journey through my visual storytelling! The page can be accessed by clicking this link.

It's just one week until I board the plane to take me to Istanbul and then to Krakow. Finally, I'm going home! I love my work, and I certainly enjoy working in Venezuela, but I feel it's time to visit my loved ones in Poland.

For various reasons, this year it works for me to take a slightly longer break. I'm leaving Venezuela for three weeks, which for me is a lot of time. The good thing about it is that we can fit in some exciting adventures. You may remember that Mum and I will be taking the opportunity to travel to Japan for around 10 days, which we both so much look forward to.

Another highlight is that when in Warsaw, I will be meeting one of my best friends, Lucy! Lucy is a humanitarian worker from Australia and I first met her in Addis Ababa in 2009, when I still worked for Oxfam. We clicked from the very beginning and became friends. I owe Lucy so many things in life: support with the relocation of Tahir, unconditional friendship, adventures, but above all, I dare say, my life. When we met, I was obese, and my weight was over 102 kg. I was so overweight that I actually thought I was going to die within the next few months. I couldn't breathe, I had problems walking, facing any physical challenge. I didn't know how to manage that situation.

With Lucy and Coree in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia (still very heavily overweight, before changing my lifestyle), March 2009

And then Lucy came and asked me, "Do you really want to lose weight?" "You won't need to be hungry," she said, a message that resonates with me even today. It was hunger that always defeated me whenever I tried to lose weight before. She taught me how to eat, how not to stress, how to enjoy the progress of being fitter, how to lose weight sustainably so it wouldn't come back. All with amazing respect, patience, and love. Lucy saved me in so many ways. I will always be grateful to her. While Lucy did many other amazing things for me, I will cherish her for being my best teacher and friend. No wonder I'm getting excited to meet her. And the best part is that we are meeting Lucy together with my Mum, on the way to Tokyo!

Thank you Lucy! I look so much forward to meeting you soon!

The Europe Day Party, commemorating diversity under the theme 'United in Diversity', has drawn to a close. It proved to be a splendid evening filled with laughter, friendly conversations, and, above all, a celebration of diversity and inclusion in all its forms - environmental, religious, cultural, economic, racial, gender, or sexual orientation.
 
Among the highlights of the event, one that particularly stood out to me was the performance by disabled artists, followed by a captivating drag show. You can view recordings of these performances here:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/FsLmDjN7uMRu71PK8

https://photos.app.goo.gl/gFhSE8NY2EH84sjCA

 
Finally, as promised, I have included some photographs from the event. You can access the report and images in this album. Please feel free to browse through the album and relive the moments (scroll down to the bottom)!

Working for the EU institution affords me the privilege of participating in Europe Day celebrations. As May begins, it's time once again to celebrate and prepare for the festivities.

Being in Venezuela this time, we're hosting a party in Caracas. We anticipate a gathering of around 350 people from various institutions, including representatives from the Government of Venezuela, accredited embassies in the country (including all EU Member States), representatives from the UN, and national and international NGOs.

The theme for this year's celebration is 'United in Diversity'. The event will consist of official proceedings and cultural performances. Following renditions of the anthems of Venezuela and Europe (Ode of Joy) during the official segment, there will be a series of speeches. However, I'm particularly excited about the cultural segment. We're looking forward to a performance of the Czech national dance (given that the party is being held at the Czech residence), pop songs from each of the EU Member States, and finally, a Drag Show, which aims to highlight our commitment to diversity, including gender diversity.

It goes without saying that all EU countries represented in Venezuela will be showcasing their national dishes and beverages!

I'll endeavour to capture moments through photographs and will share them with you. Stay tuned for updates!

As a staunch advocate of the European Union, I hold a deep appreciation for the opportunities it has afforded me. Having lived in both Poland and, more recently, Portugal as a citizen of the European Union, I've personally experienced the benefits of EU membership. Every year, I eagerly participate in Europe's Day celebrations. However, today holds special significance as we commemorate the 20th anniversary of Poland's integral role in this remarkable political, social, and economic initiative.

🇪🇺European Union Member States:
🇦🇹Austria 🇧🇪Belgium 🇧🇬Bulgaria 🇭🇷Croatia
🇨🇾Cyprus 🇨🇿Czechia 🇩🇰Denmark 🇪🇪Estonia
🇫🇮Finland 🇫🇷France 🇩🇪Germany 🇬🇷Greece
🇭🇺Hungary 🇮🇪Ireland 🇮🇹Italy 🇱🇻Latvia
🇱🇹Lithuania 🇱🇺Luxembourg 🇲🇹Malta
🇳🇱Netherlands 🇵🇱Poland 🇵🇹Portugal
🇷🇴Romania 🇸🇰Slovakia 🇸🇮Slovenia
🇪🇸Spain 🇸🇪Sweden

And here is a short tribute on Poland being a part of the EU.

Celebrating Poland's 20th Anniversary in the European Union: A Journey of Growth and Collaboration

Twenty years have passed since Poland became a member of the European Union, marking a significant milestone in its history. On 1st May 2004, Poland, along with nine other countries, embarked on a journey of integration and cooperation that has shaped its political, economic, and social landscape ever since. As we reflect on this anniversary, it's essential to recognise the achievements, challenges, and the transformative impact of EU membership on Poland.

A Journey of Integration

Poland's accession to the EU in 2004 was a culmination of years of reforms aimed at aligning its institutions and policies with European standards. The road to membership was paved with challenges, requiring extensive reforms in areas such as governance, the economy, and legal frameworks. However, the commitment to European values of democracy, rule of law, and respect for human rights propelled Poland forward on its path to integration.

Economic Growth and Development

EU membership has been instrumental in driving economic growth and development in Poland. Access to the EU's single market opened up opportunities for Polish businesses to expand their operations, access new markets, and attract foreign investments. Moreover, the EU's structural funds provided vital financial support for infrastructure projects, regional development, and modernisation initiatives across Poland. As a result, Poland experienced significant economic transformation, with steady GDP growth, rising living standards, and reduced regional disparities.

Strengthening Democracy and Rule of Law

Joining the EU also reinforced Poland's commitment to democracy, the rule of law, and good governance. Membership in the European Union served as a catalyst for judicial reforms, strengthening institutions, and enhancing accountability mechanisms. However, recent years have seen tensions emerge between Poland and the EU regarding issues related to the independence of the judiciary and the rule of law. These challenges underscore the importance of upholding the fundamental values upon which the EU is built and fostering constructive dialogue to address concerns while preserving the integrity of the union.

Social Cohesion and Cultural Exchange

EU membership has facilitated greater social cohesion and cultural exchange within Poland and across Europe. Through programs such as Erasmus+, thousands of Polish students have had the opportunity to study abroad, fostering cross-cultural understanding and cooperation. Additionally, initiatives promoting cultural heritage preservation, language diversity, and cultural exchange have enriched Poland's cultural tapestry and reinforced its European identity.

Looking Ahead

As Poland celebrates its 20th anniversary in the European Union, it stands at a crucial juncture in its relationship with the EU. The coming years will present opportunities to deepen integration, address common challenges, and contribute to shaping the future of Europe. It is imperative for Poland to reaffirm its commitment to European values, foster constructive dialogue with its EU partners, and actively participate in shaping EU policies and initiatives.

Happy Birthday to the EU, Happy Anniversary to Poland!

Twenty years after joining the European Union, Poland's journey has been one of growth, transformation, and collaboration. EU membership has not only brought economic prosperity but also strengthened democracy, promoted social cohesion, and enhanced Poland's role on the European stage. As Poland looks ahead to the future, it must build upon the achievements of the past two decades, uphold the principles of European integration, and work towards a more prosperous, united, and inclusive Europe.

After much deliberation, I've finally confirmed my holiday plans. I'll be heading to Poland this May to meet up with my Mum in Nowy Sacz. With spring in full swing and ideal travel conditions, we've crafted an exhilarating itinerary: a 9-day trip to Japan! This will be my inaugural visit to this captivating Asian nation, and I'm thrilled to explore it alongside my Mum. While in Japan, we plan to immerse ourselves in Tokyo's vibrant culture and venture beyond the city to iconic spots like Mt. Fuji and possibly Kobe.

Following our Japanese adventure, I'll be soaking up the sights and sounds of southern Poland before returning to Caracas in June. On my journey back to Venezuela from Poland, I'll make a 2-day stopover in Istanbul, courtesy of Turkish Airlines, to marvel at the city's enchanting beauty.

It seems that May and June are shaping up to be months brimming with excitement. Needless to say, I'm eagerly counting down the days!

You might recall that I have a deep fondness for Caracas. It's not only my favourite city in the Americas but also ranks among my top global favourites. I cherish Caracas for its rich history, captivating architecture, breathtaking natural beauty, and most importantly, its people: the Caraqueños.

To give you a glimpse into my perspective on Caracas, I've penned this brief guide to the city!

Hope you will find it interesting, and that I will tempt you to visit me here!


Exploring the Enchanting Charms of Caracas: 'Roman's take on the city'

Nestled in the heart of Venezuela, Caracas stands as a city with a rich tapestry of culture, history, and natural beauty. Despite its tumultuous reputation, Caracas offers visitors a plethora of experiences that capture the soul of this vibrant South American metropolis. From its bustling streets to its verdant parks, here's a guide to uncovering the hidden charms of Caracas.

Plaza Bolívar: Where History Comes Alive

No visit to Caracas is complete without a stroll through Plaza Bolívar, the beating heart of the city. Named after the revered Venezuelan liberator, Simón Bolívar, this expansive square is surrounded by some of the city's most iconic landmarks, including the majestic Cathedral of Caracas and the historic Caracas City Hall. Immerse yourself in history as you wander among statues paying homage to Venezuela's heroes or simply relax on a bench and soak in the lively atmosphere of this central gathering place.

El Ávila National Park: Nature's Playground

Escape the hustle and bustle of the city by venturing into the breathtaking El Ávila National Park. Just a short drive from downtown Caracas, this sprawling natural reserve offers visitors a wealth of outdoor activities amidst stunning mountain scenery. Hike along winding trails that lead to panoramic viewpoints, or take a thrilling cable car ride to the summit of Cerro El Ávila for unparalleled vistas of the city below. Whether you're a nature enthusiast or simply seeking tranquility, El Ávila National Park is sure to captivate you.

La Candelaria: A Bohemian Paradise

Step back in time as you wander through the charming streets of La Candelaria, Caracas's oldest and most eclectic neighbourhood. Admire the colonial architecture adorned with colourful murals and intricate wrought-iron balconies, or browse through artisanal shops and quaint cafes that line the cobblestone streets. Don't miss the opportunity to visit the birthplace of Venezuela's most renowned artist, Francisco de Miranda, now transformed into a museum celebrating his life and legacy. Whether you're exploring its vibrant street art scene or sampling traditional Venezuelan delicacies, La Candelaria offers a glimpse into Caracas's cultural heritage.

Parque del Este: Oasis in the Urban Jungle

Experience a tranquil retreat amidst the urban sprawl at Parque del Este, a verdant oasis nestled within the heart of Caracas. Spanning over 82 hectares, this sprawling park offers lush greenery, tranquil ponds, and meandering pathways ideal for leisurely strolls or picnics with family and friends. Take a moment to admire the park's iconic landmark, the monumental Tiuna Fountain, or marvel at the diverse array of flora and fauna that call this urban sanctuary home. Whether you're seeking respite from the city's chaos or simply looking to reconnect with nature, Parque del Este is a hidden gem waiting to be discovered.

Culinary Delights: A Gastronomic Journey

Indulge your senses in Caracas's vibrant culinary scene, where flavours from around the world converge to create a tantalising fusion of taste and tradition. From savoury arepas stuffed with tender shredded beef to decadent cachitos filled with creamy cheese, Venezuelan cuisine offers a culinary journey like no other. Sample exotic fruits and freshly squeezed juices at bustling street markets, or savour gourmet creations at upscale restaurants showcasing the best of local and international fare. Whether you're a foodie or simply seeking to tantalise your taste buds, Caracas promises a gastronomic adventure you won't soon forget.

Discovering the Soul of Caracas

From its historic landmarks to its natural wonders, Caracas beckons visitors with its undeniable charm and allure. Despite its challenges, this vibrant city continues to captivate visitors with its rich cultural heritage, warm hospitality, and boundless spirit. Whether you're exploring its historic plazas, embarking on outdoor adventures, or savouring its culinary delights, Caracas invites to uncover the hidden gems that make it a truly unforgettable destination. So pack your bags, and prepare to be enchanted by the myriad charms of Venezuela's captivating capital.

My plans for the Easter weekend initially were quite different. I intended to take a break and unwind, especially after my travels to Washington DC and Brussels had left me feeling exhausted. However, reality had other plans for me. The workload I had accumulated meant that traveling was out of the question; instead, I found myself needing to stay put in Caracas and focus on work.
 
Despite this unexpected turn of events, the weekend wasn't all bad. Much of the work I tackled was engaging and fulfilling. Plus, I managed to explore the city a bit. Saturday turned out to be particularly memorable. I found myself wandering around Plaza Bolivar and then venturing into the smaller streets leading up to the National Pantheon. The stroll was enchanting, making me feel as though I had stepped into a fairy tale. I was captivated by the charming albeit worn-down buildings, ancient trees, children playing soccer, elderly men engaged in chess matches, a barber setting up his makeshift 'shop' complete with a small mirror and chair tucked under a walkway, spice shops, and the mesmerising glow of the Caribbean sun. It was a simple walk, yet it filled me with joy and temporarily lifted the weight of looming deadlines off my shoulders.
 
(If you're interested in viewing photos from my walk, you can find them in this album: Scroll down to see the pictures towards the bottom of the album).

I've recently returned to Caracas after a week-long trip to Europe. As you may recall, I attended the European Humanitarian Forum (EHF) and also had meetings at my headquarters.
 
Despite the somewhat gloomy conversations and conclusions at the EHF, I found the meetings at my office to be constructive and uplifting. Unlike some previous HQ gatherings, there was a sense of optimism about our work and the near-term future. While we certainly face challenges—particularly concerning our inadequate budgets to address urgent humanitarian needs globally—people are displaying positivity and innovation in operating with limited resources amid vast needs.
 
I was delighted to reconnect with many friends and colleagues at the meetings, some of whom I hadn't seen in years. It was wonderful to catch up and spend quality time together.
 
Over the weekend, I managed to squeeze in two short day trips—to Luxembourg and Lille. As someone who enjoys city breaks, I was thrilled to explore a bit more.
 
If you're interested, here's a link to the photo album from my trip.
 
Looking ahead, I'll be working in Caracas for the next few weeks, focusing on advancing our humanitarian budget programming and tackling numerous work-related challenges. Hopefully, I'll be able to plan some personal time off soon. I believe it's high time I visit Mum in Poland and catch up with Amna and Tahir in Canada.

I'm preparing to head to the airport to travel to Brussels. Next week, I'll be participating in the European Humanitarian Forum (EHF) and then continuing with my organisation's conference for the heads of offices (HoO) from around the world.

The EHF will bring together humanitarian practitioners, political leaders, and academics to discuss how we can bridge ongoing humanitarian needs with limited resources. Given my role, I'll be advocating for the needs in Venezuela, but I'm also very interested in learning about the management of migration crises worldwide. Globally, we're shamefully falling short in caring for the most vulnerable people, so any ideas on how to make things even slightly better are worth considering.

During the HoO meeting, we'll be focusing on challenges, standards, and peculiarities related to the work of ECHO (my own organisation). Though it's going to be incredibly busy, I'm actually looking forward to reconnecting with colleagues and friends whom I haven't seen in a long time!

This time around, I'm writing from my hotel room in Washington DC. It's raining and grey outside, but I'm actually enjoying the weather a lot. It reminds me of Europe, and I've missed the atmosphere that this kind of weather brings. It's something you can't experience in the tropics of Venezuela, where I'm currently based.

As you may recall, I'm here in the US for professional meetings. While I've been quite busy over the past couple of days, I've had some good opportunities to get a feel for the city. I decided to walk between my hotel and the meeting venues rather than using public transportation.

I'm surprised by the US capital. I had imagined a city filled with skyscrapers like you see in many other US cities, but I've learned that they're not permitted here. As a result, the buildings aren't very tall. Some of them are still quite large, but not overly tall, which I think adds to the city's charm.

Today is my day off, as it's Saturday, so I'm planning to take the opportunity to explore the city more thoroughly. I'm determined to do so despite the rain. The forecast says it should stop raining in the afternoon, so hopefully, I won't get too wet.

I'll be leaving for Panama City tomorrow. I have meetings at my regional office on Monday, and then I'll be back in Caracas by Tuesday evening.

In mid-March, I'll be in Brussels for work, so as you can see, I can't complain about being bored.

If you're curious to see some pictures from Washington DC and Panama City, you're welcome to visit this link.

It's a very busy February here, and I'm spending the long Carnival weekend in front of my computer working, rather than celebrating and dancing away on the beach like many residents of Caracas. No complaints though! Things are good and interesting despite needing to read dozens of various project proposals that our partners are sending us for consideration. I find studying project proposals to be educational most of the time. You're forced to take the time to read in detail all sorts of analyses and arguments, which ultimately gives you a broader understanding of the environment you work in. So, as I said, no complaints - it's an inspirational task that I'm undertaking.

Last week was stressful. I had my regular medical check-up at the hospital, which included a colonoscopy. Although I didn't find the procedure troublesome, I was a bit worried about the results. Luckily, everything seemed to be fine, and the doctor commended me on my efforts to undergo regular check-ups. I'd like to echo her sentiments to all of you. Please make sure you do your preventive/screening health procedures, even if they seem scary sometimes! By the way, I was so impressed with the service I received at the Santa Paula Clinic in Caracas. The team there was very friendly and professional, for which I am very grateful!

I've already purchased my tickets for the conference in Washington DC. Now, it's time for actual preparations to ensure the trip is as useful as possible. I'll be having a series of meetings with various organisations this and next week to get a full picture of what to expect, which should help me prepare better for my own advocacy messages.

While I have some familiarity with the US, this will be my first trip to Washington DC. I won't have a lot of time, but I should manage to carve out some free hours for exploring the city. I wonder what advice you would have for me regarding what's worth seeing, apart from the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Washington Monument?

Obviously, I'll be reporting back to you from the US trip in my posts, and this will include a new photo gallery as well. Stay tuned if you're interested!

My short break in Cartagena de Indias of Colombia was splendid. One week of exploration of the city's wonderful architecture and the nature around was perfect and enjoyable. Except the unbearable heat, it was a perfect city break: a good balance of culture, nature and good cuisine.

February, perhaps will be less exciting when it comes to travelling and getting to know new places, however it will be a very busy month. We are now receiving our partners' proposals for humanitarian projects to be implemented across the country. We will be trying to read all of them and make rational decisions whether we should engage with them or not, and negotiate possible adjustments. Reviewing a large number of proposals is a difficult and tiring job, but then it is also challenging, as it gives you a chance to reflect on needs, our own capacities to respond and push for better organisation and coordination so that the resources are used as efficiently as possible so that more people can benefit from the outcomes of the projects.

Last days of February, March and April however will be filled with travels. Although, this is not yet certain, at the very beginning of it, I may be travelling to Washington D.C. for the meetings in the World Bank on the occasion of the Fragility Forum 2024 conference, where we are planning to discuss our work and needs of communities in Venezuela. Some weeks later, I will be heading to the European Humanitarian Forum in Brussels, where we will also have a chance to discuss, among other issues, our work in Venezuela and Colombia.

If all goes according to plans, I will then be taking holidays in April. The idea is first to visit family and friends in Toronto, and then head to see Mum and family in Nowy Sacz.

I hope to see some of you around, either here in Venezuela, or while travelling!

After some back and forward, I have managed to clarify some of my travel plans for next week! As you know me, this always makes me happy and excited. Planning your trips is as exciting as the actual travel!

It seems like, I will be travelling to Cartagena of Colombia next week. I am going there for a short break. Cartagena, as you may know, is one of the nicest historic city of South America, and certainly Colombia. It is situated on the Caribbean Coast and is known for its charm and exciting architecture. It is going to be my first trip to the city, and I am really happy to have an opportunity to get to know the place!

I am not sure about travel plans for February yet, but hopefully, I would be able to visit one of our projects in Venezuela. I desperately need to continue monitoring the projects, but the administrative and logistics obstacles are quite difficult in Venezuela. One needs to be hopeful though!

In March, I will be in Brussels for a global humanitarian conference, referred to as 'the European Humanitarian Forum', where we will be discussing our work. I might combine the trip with a trip home to Nowy Sacz as well, but no firm decisions are taken yet. Looking forward to the event in Belgium though!

2024 has arrived. It surely will not be an easy year. Clearly, lots of challenges of all sorts in front of us in every part of the world.

I still hope and wish you all that we find peace, joy, happiness and laughter! May it be a good year for all of us.

Happy New Year!

On another note, my blog is turning 23 years!

Finally, I am starting my new 'Venezuela in 2024' album. You can access it at this link.

I am enjoying my last days of 2023. I am on duty, but things are very quiet and therefore I have time to explore the city, watch movies and talk to friends. My holidays period is very low profile, but extremely relaxing and enjoyable: perfect way to rest and recharge batteries for a very busy January, as it is likely to be.

I particularly enjoy exploring Caracas. Venezuela's capital, perhaps, is not a postcard beauty, but is charming, full of colour and life. Above all, I like the people here. Everyone is very friendly and kind. I have already mentioned that before, I know, but I feel so well in this city that I find it important to remind myself of it all the time (you can check for some of the latest pictures at the bottom of the gallery here).

New Year's Eve is going to be calm for me. I will however spend it with some of my work friends, who were kind to invite me for dinner. I am looking forward to it.

Although this needs to be confirmed, it seems like I will be travelling to Panama at the end of January. I will be having work meetings with my director, who will be visiting the Latin America regional office of ours. It will be nice to meet my colleagues and some of my friends who live there!

Hope, you are all well and enjoying the end of the year period.

Christmas 2023 Newsletter to family and friends:

Dear Friends,
 
I imagine many of us are busy preparing for Christmas or winter season holidays. Most of us are gearing up for New Year’s Eve too. Given this, it is the most certainly a good time for some winter cheer, an update, and some wishes from me!
 
I am writing from Caracas. You may remember in August; I arrived in Venezuela to take over on my duties as ECHO’s expert for the operations in the country.
 
Like many other years, also, 2023 spoilt me with opportunities of travels, adventures but at times forced me to pause to reflect what was happening around me. I started my 2023 in Panama City, a little tired after having travelled for a mission to Chile (where I was visiting projects aiming at helping (mostly) Venezuelan refugees and asylum seekers), I decided to have some quiet time, knowing that soon after I would be travelling to Brussels for my medical check-up. On the New Year’s Day, I met some of my Colombian and Venezuelan friends. We had a walk on the city’s sea promenade called ‘Cinta Costera’ and then had a lunch while chatting away and catching up on each other’s latest dealings and adventures.
 
Soon after I was on the plane, travelling to Brussels. It was a very short visit to do my obligatory medical tests and checks. Even if the visit was brief, I managed to call on some colleagues and friends, and had a proper stroll on parts of the city’s old town. While walking I got lost, and accidentally ventured out to the slightly more rundown part of the city. It was full of smaller tea houses, barber shops, hammams and vibrant shops run by Afghan, Moroccan and Indian/Pakistani owners. I enjoyed the colours and exotic smells. Somehow, the place made me think of Tahir and I became a little sad that he could not be there with me.
 
Literally 48 hours after arriving to Brussels, I was already leaving, on the way to Krakow, where I was about to join Mum and the rest of the family for my winter holiday. We had a great time together hanging out between Nowy Sacz, beautiful Krynica and Szczawnica as well as various villages in the Tatras. Together with my Mum’s friend, who is also our neighbour in Nowy Sacz (Pani Kurzejowa), we managed to go for a trip to Bardejov in Slovakia. The day was filled with laughter, good food and some wine 😉.
 
To escape the cold, Mum and I decided to spend a week in Cyprus. We chose Paphos in the western part of the island to become our base. Going to Cyprus was a great idea. The temperature was very pleasant. It was warm, but as it was January, we did not suffer from the heat. We travelled around the island quite extensively, including Nicosia, which I liked a lot, however I felt I needed more time to explore it better. Nevertheless, my absolute favourites were small villages around Paphos and the archaeological excavations of Kourion. Mum, on the other hand, enjoyed the beaches, especially those around the site where the mythical Aphrodite was born from the ocean’s waves. We both enjoyed the old town of Limassol, too. As you can imagine, I was sad leaving the country. I appreciated the people and loved its wonderful European, Asian and African influences.
 
Landing in Krakow after the Ryanair flight from Paphos was brutal. Poland welcomed us with snow and sub-zero temperatures. As we drove from the airport home, we decided to treat ourselves for a warm highlander’s soup, called ‘kwasnica’ (sour cabbage) in the ‘Karczma’, our favourite wooden roadside inn. While eating, we watched the snowflakes fall through the windows and enjoyed the cosy interiors.  
 
After returning from Cyprus I stayed a few days more with Mum and my brother’s family before returning to Panama City. Although the weather did not encourage any outdoor activities, we enjoyed it thoroughly by spending lots of time together. The obvious highlight was an evening concert in a wooden hut in the mountains around Szczawnica (with mould wine) and a shopping/sightseeing trip to Krakow with Mum and Pani Kurzejowa.
 
I started my journey to Panama City with a flight from Warsaw to Miami. The idea was to have a short stopover in Miami, since I did not know it, and thought it was a good idea to take an opportunity to explore a new place. After arriving to the airport, I took a cab, which brought me to my guesthouse, in the surroundings of the South Beach. While in the city, I walked for hours admiring handsome Art Deco architecture, which I liked very much. My absolute favourite however was a visit to ‘Little Havana’, a vibrant neighbourhood filled with colours, Caribbean flavours, drinks and music. I tried making sure that I ventured out from the main tourist street, which was a very good way to see a bit of the less ‘post-card’ reality of communities, less affluent and appearing to struggle to make their ends meet. I ended up in a small bar, where soon I found myself chatting with two Cuban waitresses/bar attendants (both in their 60-ies). The hour was young, and hence not busy, so we had a chance to get to know each other a bit. They loved a fact that I was from Poland and spoke Spanish with them so and so that they offered me a free glass of wine. I particularly enjoyed their childhood stories from the suburbs of Santa Clara in central part of the country.
 
One of the requirements to carry out my duties is being able to operate in environments, which are referred to as ‘hostile’. To prepare us well to protect the communities we work for, as well as keep ourselves safe, we regularly need to participate in a security training, which is known as ‘HEAT’ (Hostile Environment Awareness Training). As my HEAT credentials were about to expire, I needed to renew them urgently. A good opportunity to do so appeared at the end of February, as one of such courses was being arranged in Medellin. After completing the administrative forms, together with dozen or so other participants, I found myself tucked in a training centre in the foothills of northern Colombia. The instruction covers a variety of topics, ranging from use of communication equipment, through dealings with explosives and mines; advanced first aid techniques; to strengthening of skills helping to survive a sexual assault or kidnapping. This was not my first HEAT, and I thought I was prepared for it well. It was a wrong assumption. This time around, I found the exercise to be particularly harsh. I got slightly injured during the kidnapping practice (nothing serious) and my spectacles got destroyed in the process as well. Also, I got a little traumatised with the kidnapping/sexual assault exercise. All looked too real and woke up some of my past experiences’ demons, which I tried to forget so hardly. You can imagine, I was glad, when we arrived to the end of the exercise and were allowed to socialise with the participants, who all happened to be lovely people.
 
Before finishing my posting in Panama in July, my duties took me to various humanitarian missions: Gran Chaco on the border between Paraguay and Brazil (floods), eastern and western Venezuela (fact finding missions, preparing me for taking over my duties in the country) and northern Mexico and southern Texas in the USA (migration crisis). All three trips were very different and dealt with very distinct problems contributing to people’s suffering. Despite this, there were some common denominators which appeared obvious to me: the reasons of crises always related to sorts of chauvinism, prejudices, racism, mind boggling imbalances of wealth distribution, corruption, power grabbing… but then, I also witnessed people’s amazing ability to unite and help one another in the most genius ways, kindness, or dedication, professionalism, empathy and at times nearly heroic bravery of hundreds of individuals who happened to live through these crises either as victims or aid workers of all sorts. Although not today, I will write down some of these experiences in sort of memorial, as these stories deserve to be shared.
 
In between the missions, I managed to travel to Europe for Easter, visiting Obidos, but also having travelling to explore Riga, as well as parts of northern Lithuania and western Estonia. My experience with the Baltic States made me fall in love in this part of Europe. The short trip was not enough to discover the place properly but gave me some basic insights to the region and lots of motivation to go back to learn more. Riga is an absolute jewel, the Baltic coast of Estonia is picturesque and unbelievably romantic, while Lithuania charmed me with its greenery.
 
As the middle of the year approached, I found myself packing and preparing for a big move from Panama to Venezuela. The process made me tired… getting rid of the car, packing, filling out hundreds of forms were tiring. Despite all of it, I was excited and motivated that I was moving to the country that I have dreamt about for such a long time: Venezuela.
 
Between the two deployments, I went to Poland again for a visit to Mum, Pawel (my brother) and his family. The family break wouldn’t be complete without some exciting adventure. As far as my memory goes, I dreamt of taking Mum to Africa, but for various reasons, this had never worked out. This made me sad, as the continent is so excitedly rich and interesting, and I thought it was important for Mum to see it. Things were about to change though, as we managed to arrange for a 10 days trip to northern Madagascar! The journey to Nosy Be was quick and easy, as we took a direct flight from Warsaw. I was thrilled to see Mum excited. To be honest, I might have been as excited myself: to be able to visit a new place, but also to introduce Mum to my favourite part of the world. We landed at the airport early in the morning. After a somehow chaotic immigration procedure, we were on a local bus travelling to our guest house. The colours, smells, beautiful chaos that somehow made so much sense, baobabs, noise… all of it seemed to have been making wonders from the first second in the country. Mum was smiling and I was so happy! I will probably never forget this first 2 hours in the country. It was one of the more beautiful experiences of my life. Being able to share such special moments with your Mum is such a blessing! In fact, the whole trip was amazing. We made sure that we did not stay on beaches and in the hotel, but instead went to local markets and villages. We also befriended a Malagasy family. They were kind to invite us to their home, which was such a great gift, as we managed to have a chance to peep into their daily routines. Moussa and Veronica turned out to be the sweetest couple, looking after us during the whole stay. What is even more previous is that we continue to be in touch to this day. I hope that one day, we will be able to repay their hospitality by showing them our favourite places in southern Poland.
 
To give all my adventures justice, I should mention that at the end of November/beginning of November, I also had a chance to travel around Dubrovnik, Mostar and Kotar (Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina and Montenegro respectively). I travelled solo and engaged in discovering these three cities breathtaking architecture and learning about the troubled history of the region. The Balkans gave me a lesson on the communities trying to live with one another in peace again, after being at odds and disagreements. I was encouraged to see that most are so keenly trying to build bridges and learn from the pains of the recent war. Humbling.
 
My trip to Europe was even more special as my friend and colleague, Taheeni, whom I worked with in Bangkok and who helped me to look after Tahir tremendously, joined me for a short visit in Obidos. We had a great time together and I was thrilled to show her my favourite places in my Portuguese home.
 
Today, I am sitting in my Caracas apartment, thinking of this amazing year, five months after moving here. The work here is challenging, but this was expected, and I appreciate it. I do love the country… I keep on saying to everyone that Venezuela is my love at the first sight. It is a diverse and beautiful place, but it is mostly the country’s people that made the trick for me. I feel good among Venezuelans, and I am looking forward to living my new adventures and experiences. I also hope I will be able to share them with friends and family. Would love to have a chance to have Tahir and Amna (his wife) visiting, and of course, I would be over the moon, if Mum came over as well.
 
In the meanwhile, as I prepare for the holidays, I am thinking of you all and wondering how you are. I look forward to receiving news from you. At the same time, I am wishing you all a blessed holiday, full of happiness, cheer, and fun. Please stay well and rest!
 
Happy, happy holidays, and Happy New Year.
 
Your friend, Roman
 
PS1: Tahir with Amna are well and happy in Toronto, and are sending you all their best seasonal greetings as well!
 
PS2: In case, you would like to peep in at some of the pictures, here is a link to my galleries: https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/a84015e1320a5f0da8209020fe166e01-100.html.
 

I had the most amazing day at the Caribbean coast yesterday. A colleague/friend of mine decided to take me out of Caracas and show me the town where he was born and raised as a child. So we went to the other side of the Auila Hill and explored Maiquetia, La Guaira, Macuta and Caraballeda. We visited the fish market of Maiquetia, the Old Town of La Guaira and the beaches of Macuta and Caraballeda. Lots of good seafood, a beer and the most amazing views. I love discovering Venezuela, and being surprised by its beauty and I can't wait to see more (here is a link to the album, with pictures from the latest trip towards the end of it).

I am also preparing for my Christmas holiday. I will be on duty, so I will not be able to travel that much, however I am hoping that things will be quieter at work and will have a chance to explore bits of Caracas and visit some of my friends here. I am definitely looking forward to some relaxing time in the city.

Also, I am now preparing my Christmas/end of the year newsletter, and I will be sending it out soon, so be prepared for some updates coming your way soon.

I have had some really good time in the Balkans and Portugal for last two weeks. Managed to meet friends, visit breathtaking places and recharge the batteries. Although, Europe was a bit cold, I enjoyed experiencing early winter, and enjoyed the pre-Christmas atmosphere.

It seems like I might need my energy, as and of the year in Caracas will be busy. The recent developments between Venezuela and its neighbours suggest, we may expect tensions, which are likely to lead to increased workload for us.

Also, as we approach to the end of the year, our partners working in the country prepare for submitting their project proposals for their activities in months to come. This usually involves countless of meetings for us, during which we try answers all doubts that our colleagues may have.

Then on the other hand, and hopefully, there will be some Christmas cheer as well. Meeting friends and getting to know new people is always something that I look forward to.

Choosing to come to the Balkans in November/December was the best thing I could have done. I enjoyed experiencing the beauty of Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina and Montenegro a great deal. Dubrovnik, Mostar and Kotor are all breathtakingly charming. The architecture and the surrounding environment make a nearly idyllic setting that essentially everyone falls for.

I actually enjoyed being here with the winter, where the temperatures are not high (but still very pleasant, as far as I am concerned), and there are no crowds of tourists. Very relaxing and rejuvenating! Each of the cities and their surroundings offer quite unique experiences. I am amazed that they are so closely to one another, yet they are so distinctly different. There is something 'Balkan' in all of the sites I visited, yet they offer their own character, which I appreciated very much (you may want to check my photo report, which can be accessed here).

However what I found the most interesting was my process of learning of its painful recent history of Yugoslavia. The recent cruel war has a visible impact on the way that various ethnic and religious groups within these three countries function, feel and perceive one another. Despite these recent horrors, people try re-inventing themselves, build new relationships and hopefully learn from the past so that the mistakes are not repeated and horrors are not re-lived. While I do not think that the healing process is over and that all difficult issues are dealt with, I somehow think that the Balkans offer good lessons for other warring groups that forgiveness, coexistence and in fact fruitful cooperation is possible. I am at awe and full of respect to the communities looking into the better future, while remembering the past. I hope that the prosperity will reign in this beautiful part of Europe for everyone who calls this place 'a home'.

Today, I am leaving Dubrovnik and heading to my Portuguese home in Obidos. I will spend there a week. Amazing news is that my wonderful colleague and friend, whom I got to know in Bangkok will come and join me for a few days. Also, I am very excited to be meeting my Portuguese friends. I am sure, I will have a great time with all of them, fully recharged and ready to return to Caracas for the end of the year.

The autumn/pre-Christmas holidays in Europe are amazing. After an amazing day in Lisbon, I am now in Croatia's Dubrovnik. I will be exploring the city and its surroundings, but also will have two short day trips. One to Bosnia and Herzegovina's Mostar and then along the Adriatic coast of northern Montenegro.

I shall soon prepare the pictures' galleries.

In the meanwhile, greeting you all wherever you may be in the world.

It is already nearly 4 months here in Venezuela and it is time for my first holidays. On Saturday, I am setting off for 2 weeks in Europe. I will spend a week in Croatia and the other week in Portugal.

It will be my first time in Croatia, and when there, I will be exploring Dubrovnik and its surroundings (with a possible trip to Montenegro or/and Bosnia and Herzegovina).

When in Portugal, I will be visiting my favourite people and places!

My feet are itching and I am so very much looking forward to travel.

I have just come back from an amazing work trip to Apure State, where I had a chance to visit some of the humanitarian projects that my organisation is co-funding. I enjoyed having a chance to learn a bit more of our partners' work and what they try doing to help people getting access to basic health services. The visit made me realise how much more work there is in front of all of us, but also gave me a great motivational boost which I needed and help me stay focused on advocating for more similar projects to be implemented in other parts of the country. In case, you would like to have a look at some of the images from the trip, please feel free checking the gallery at this link (bottom of the page).

I am back to Caracas just in time to put myself at the sentimental mood. It is All Saints' Day today, which is, by far, my most favourite festival we celebrate in Poland. Obviously, All Saints' Day coincides with Halloween, but the celebrations in Poland are very different and have little to do with Halloween in other parts of the world (with noble exceptions of some countries of Central and Eastern Europe, and to some extent, Mexico which celebrates a similar Día de Los Muertos).

I always get sentimental on 1st November, even if I am far away from home. The holiday is about being together with the loved ones so that we all can remember people that are important to us, but have already left us. Actually, it is a very happy day… I find it happy and optimistic, despite considerations of death and passing and a fact that people become quitter and are in pensive mood. We all go to cemeteries where we celebrate life. We decorate all graves with candles and flowers. The cemeteries actually become welcoming and are oddly attractive… filled with thousands of flowers, candles and decorations. I guess, this video (in English language) may give you an idea why the festival has become the highlight of the year for me and on importance of All Saints' Day in Poland altogether.

All Saints' Day is also important to me, as it proceeds my own birthday on 2nd November. I love the whole idea of becoming sentimental on 1st November and then celebrating quietly my own life a day later. Perhaps it is the cemeteries and the character of the festival that makes me want to celebrate my own birth anniversary quietly. I nearly never throw parties, I do not like them on my birthday. However, I enjoy quiet moments on the day, reflecting on good things happening around me. This year seems to follow the pattern, even if I am far away from home. I am gearing up to have a good and nice day tomorrow, contemplating 51 years on the planet.

What a wonderful irony!

Some years back, I applied to become a naturalised citizen of Portugal. I really love the country and wanted to have the official ties to it by having her nationality, since it became my second home in Europe, after buying our house in Obidos. However, I also need to admit that my decision of wanting to naturalise was my fear of the (still) present Government of Poland, which came to power in 2015.

And now, on 17th October 2023, the very day when the Polish Voting Commission announced results of the parliamentary elections confirming that the very government I disapprove so vividly would not be able to form a parliamentary majority (thus would lose the power in Poland), I received the confirmation that my application to become a naturalised citizen of Portugal is approved.

I am now becoming a dual Portuguese-Polish citizen.

🇪🇺🇵🇹🇵🇱🇪🇺

I am overjoyed!

Last weekend was great. I finally managed to leave Caracas. Together with Leo (my colleague/assistant here in Venezuela), we went to explore the place called Colonia Tovar, a small village, tucked in the valleys of the mountains, some 80 km west from the capital.

I loved the village a lot. Okay, it seems to be more German than the actual villages in southern Germany (as commented by my German friends, who saw the pictures from the trip), but I found it very charming and relaxing. I especially liked the nature though. Dramatic colours, amazing views, breathtaking vegetation. Really loved it. I also enjoyed observing how much Leo seemed to have enjoyed the trip as well. It was his first time to see the place, and he appreciated it very much, also because, he has not had chance to travel around his country a lot. I am already planning my next visit there!

The coming weekend will be less fun, I am afraid. We are having parliamentary elections in Poland and it will be observing it with lots of anxiety. I will actually have a chance to vote as well (on Saturday), but the exit polls will only be available on Sunday evening (Sunday afternoon Venezuela time). The available polls are not too optimistic, so I am actually preparing for a disappointment.

The last week of October, I will be travelling to southern Venezuela for work. I will be visiting some of the humanitarian projects that my organisation is supporting in Apure State. I have not been to the field for a while and I am very excited to go, also to get a bit of a boost and remind myself why we do this work. When you stay in offices for too long, you tend to lose touch with reality. I am therefore trying to make sure to get out of my comfortable bubble as much as I can.

Finally, at the end of November, I will be travelling to Europe. I am fixing my tickets already. The plan is to do my Portugal home visit, but also travel to Dubrovnik in Croatia. I have not been to Croatia yet, so very excited by the prospects. If I actually manage to get there, as planned, Croatia will become my 27th country I will have visited in the EU, thus completing the aim to travel to all member states of the European Union 💪🏽.

October 2023 has arrived this weekend. I am fearing it is going to be an exciting month, and not necessarily in a good way.

We are starting off with the parliamentary elections in Slovakia. The first results and political predictions are not very encouraging, as far as I am concerned. Populism seems to have won hearts of many Slovaks, and obviously that worries me.

Then Poland's elections are approaching too. In two weeks we will be voting. I am worried of the results. I am expecting the results to be devastating for the situation in the country and Europe with underlying divisions in the society to be more visible than ever. Anti-migrant sentiments and overall xenophobia scare me but are sadly becoming the main stream ideology in Poland these days.

The politics is not everything in life, but is its part that has a huge impact on our lives, so somehow, I feel uneasy, even if I want to distract my mind from following what is happening back home.

On a positive note, I should be travelling to southern Venezuela for work at the end of the months, and this makes me very happy. I am also arranging my holidays, which I should be taking in November. Although nothing is written in stone yet, I may be going to Portugal and Croatia this time around.

Here comes the latest newsletter, I have sent out to my friends:

Dear All,

Finally, I am getting in touch. I am aware that the letter is long overdue, but better late than never!

I am writing to you from Caracas. It is difficult to believe, but I have already been here for over the month. Settling into a new place, and learning about your new job makes time fly so fast that it is nearly scary.

I am very happy in Venezuela. When I reflect on my experiences in this country, I can’t think of anything else but my sensation, when I got to Sudan/South Sudan for the first time in my life. It is love at the first sight. People are so warm and friendly here. Yes, it is also a beautiful country with amazing nature (mountains, sea, deserts, waterfalls, colourful birds, amazing animals), fascinating architecture, cultural opportunities, but it is Venezuelan people that make the trick for me and make me like this place so very much. Of course, life in here is challenging for most. The crisis is real and at times brutal. After all, there is a reason, why we work here, but I am not going to write about this today, as I prefer to show you a face of Venezuela that is happy, vibrant, youthful, and unbelievably friendly. You should all consider visiting me here! I have a large place to live, and I am sure that I will be able to accommodate you, when you come! In any case, if you are interested, you can peep into my ’Settling in Venezuela’ gallery, should you wish so: https://photos.app.goo.gl/63SrcghpMoC2bzZv6. If all goes as anticipated, I should be here for next 4 year, so there is a bit of time to plan the visits!

My summer, the time before arriving to Venezuela was very special too. I spent some wonderful time with my mother. We enjoyed moving around Poland, and we also went to Madagascar for a week. The trip to Nosy Be (in Madagascar) was amazing for so many reasons. What I particularly liked about it is a fact that it was Mum’s first time in Africa. Madagascar did not disappoint us, and I think made Mum really impressed on so many levels. After initial shocks of differences between her own environment and what she saw on the island (which I loved noticing), she fully and bravely embraced her opportunity to get to know a new place that is so exotic, beautiful and friendly. So we spent time on exploring nature, but also local markets, villages, and made friends with local residents, who also invited us to their homes and introduced us to their families. I think we both liked the trip a lot, and I am already looking forward to more trips with her. Mum is a great travel companion! Again if you wish to peep in to our trip to Madagascar, here is a link: https://photos.app.goo.gl/GNEHaZZCkyGdYNaw5. Also here is a list of links to other albums from recent trips (including holidays in Poland and the farewell in Panama): https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/a84015e1320a5f0da8209020fe166e01-100.html.

And for those interested, I should report that Tahir is doing great in Canada. Just this morning, I come across the old correspondence just to get reminded that 7 years ago, we started the process for his resettlement to Toronto (with some amazing Canadian friends), that I know Tahir for 10 years, and that he has already lived in Canada for nearly 5 years. I think he has done an amazing work in Canada. He has created an independent and happy life, travelled a bit (including visiting me in Poland and Panama), and more importantly starting his own family too! And while, it is Tahir that has responsibility for his life, and seems to be doing well in this regards, I will always cherish all of you, who helped so immensely to give Tahir a push to have better opportunities. I will never stop being grateful for this. THANK YOU.

Voila… I will stop now, but look forward to hearing from you whenever you can.

Miss you all. Sending love,
Roman

However unbelievable it sounds, three weeks have already passed in Caracas. It feels like, I just arrived yesterday, as everything is still new, largely undiscovered and very exciting.

My first weeks have been filled with arranging my life here in the city and getting familiarised with my new work. Employing my assistant (Leo is an amazing person), shopping for some essentials for my flat, walking in my neighbourhood (so I get to know it well), visiting local bars ;), but also carrying out countless meetings to learn about my work, and work of the partners that we work with. Soon, I should be able to start travelling out of Caracas too, so that I actually understand a bit better the realities of life of people that we try supporting and serving.

I really, really like Caracas and her people. It is a lively and exciting city full of culture, dance and colour. The nature around is breathtaking and most importantly, I find the people very hospitable. I feel lucky to be able to spend here a part of my life!

Ah… today, there will be my welcoming party, arranged by the colleagues from the EU Delegation. Need to have my hair combed so I look dashing ;)

My time in Europe (and in Africa for that matter) has come to the end, as my holidays finished. I am now in Caracas, starting a new chapter of my life: 4 years humanitarian deployment for ECHO.

Those of you who know me are all aware how excited I am to be able to live and work in this country. As usual, I will be updating you on my experiences and adventures. To start with, I have created a photo album, where I will be posting new pictures from the country throughout 2023.

But before Venezuela, I also wanted to underline how wonderful holidays I managed to have in Poland and Madagascar. I spent tones of time with Mum and I really loved it. She is such a great travel companion. Very special.

I also did travel a bit for work (trip to Warsaw to get my Venezuelan visa). I appreciated it and experience this amazing city that is changing so rapidly and in a way that is absolutely phenomenal.

I also had an amazing treat in Bardejov of Slovakia, as I met there unexpectedly my two wonderful friends, who live in Australia, but were on a family visit to Kosice.

Finally, I had a chance to spend a little over a day in Lisbon, while travelling to Caracas. Lisbon, as usual, impressed me with her beauty and made me fall in love with the city and Portugal even more!

My holidays are officially over (see pictures from Europe here, and from Madagascar here) and I am now teleworking, and preparing for my next deployment in Venezuela. As you might have gathered from my previous posts, I have had a great time so far and enjoyed every moment of the time spent with my mother, family and friends. This being written, I am equally excited for weeks to come. I am now reading briefings for Venezuela, and also arranging all the practicalities for my travel. On Monday, for example, I will be travelling to Warsaw to the Embassy of Venezuela to get my visa stamped to my passport. I am also looking at the flight tickets, and finally making sure that I do some shopping for products that may be harder to get in Caracas. If all goes well, I will be set to travel and on my way to Lisbon, and then Caracas the following Saturday. Very excited!

Although my holidays are over, there is still one weekend ahead of us and we are planning to ensure that it is fun. Tomorrow, together with Mum and friends, we will venture out for a day trip to Banska Stiavnica in Slovakia, allegedly a pretty town in the middle of the country (we have not visited it before) and then on Sunday, planning to meet with my old friend, Basia, who lives in New York, but is currently visiting her family in Nowy Sacz. I really enjoy talking to Basia, so look forward to meeting her soon again!

As my trip to Venezuela gets closer, I might write again and update you on the latest preparations before I actually travel.

We have now safely arrived to Nowy Sacz from a week of an amazing trip to Madagascar (you can see the pictures from the trip here), and now recovering from a long trip, and thinking of the experiences in that far away place.

Both for my Mum and I, it was the first trip to the country (and for my Mum, it was a first time in Africa altogether), so undoubtedly, all of the experiences were extremely rich in every sense of it. I think that both of us really loved the visit. Madagascar, at least the northern part of it, has a 'paradise-like' nature with amazing views, fantastic plants and spices as well as some fascinating animals. We also were genuinely overwhelmed with people's kindness and friendliness. Malagasy people impressed us with their smiles, openness and being genuine. I guess, our experiences were even more enhanced because of obvious differences between Madagascar and Poland. The weather, food, culture, infrastructure, living standards, access to services are very different in both places, and whether you like it or not these differences are bound to catch up with you and make you think and challenge the systems we live in, and also our own roles within them. As you may remember, I decided to travel on 'all inclusive' deal, as it was easier to arrange it and to make it feasible for my mother to travel. To counterbalance it a bit, we made sure that we stayed in our bubble/luxury hotel as little as possible and tried exploring local markets, villages, towns and even managed to visit homes of local families as much as possible. We made sure that these adventures were done by using services of local guides, or local companies that appeared to be socially conscious.

It is however fair to mention that not everything we experienced and saw was easy to accept. The corruption mixed with extreme poverty of large parts of the society makes lives of the people to be very difficult, at times nearly unbearable. Learning that the average lifespan for the locals is about 55 years, or that most live on less that 2 USD in many ways is a mind-blowing realisation to many Europeans. It certainly was difficult for my Mum, (as well as to me, although because of my work, sadly it was no news to me). We wanted to deal with that in our small ways… perhaps out of necessity, or perhaps to kill our bad conscious. We therefore tried rewarding everyone around us with smiles, but also generous tips and made sure that our guides had always plenty of food and water when they worked for us. We also decided to commit to support a family of one of our guides, who seemed to be the most vulnerable by sending transfers of at least 100 euro for as long as we can afford it in the future, so that they have enough money to pay for their rent and food. We took an opportunity to buy a new affordable smartphone for them, so their lives could be a little bit easier (for receiving payments, communicating for emergencies, and simply for being able to be connected to the Internet). They could never afford to have a smartphone, so this present seemed to mean a lot to them. The contribution and the commitment is not a big deal to us, but we hope it should make it easier for the family to meet basic needs of life, especially when there are no incoming tourists in the rainy season and when the income to many literally halts to zero. I have to say I love that it is my Mum who is very enthusiastic about the project and that it is her that was the main force behind the idea.

I also wanted to highlight how ashamed we were of some of us, Europeans, whom we met along the way in Nosy Be and elsewhere in northern Madagascar. Again not everything surprised me, but made me sad nevertheless. Many of us Poles, Italians, Brits, Germans, Czechs or Lithuanians (and many others, I guess) are in my mind just a shame to humanity. I am not even going to brag about people who travel across the world and do no effort to explore and discover the new exciting environments, but stay at hotel swimming pool (not even at the beach). That is already bad enough, but not the worst. I was appalled by our arrogance, lack of empathy, at times by concealed racism. It was depressing to me. What really was blowing my mind for example, is lack of interest of some of us in how the employees of the service providers are treated, or what it may take for the locals to earn a few dollars for their families. We, the privileged, want discounts, good price and good quality of service. If this means that competitive price involves abuse of workers, their rights, dignity, or de facto slavery, we are not too concerned anymore. It was so clear that many of the employees (not all to be fair, although many, probably most), who served us, only live from tips rather than proper salaries, and are not even provided with food during their service hours. Having any social/health cover, or accident insurance is nearly unthinkable. It was so easy to grasp it and see it, yet most of us, who are so 'entitled', fail to see it, or perhaps, do not want to see it. That certainly was a darker part of the trip. Perhaps, a small encouragement is that I found some of the fellow tourists who felt similarly, and were eager to challenge themselves and do their best to be fair to our hosts. All in all however, I remain deeply disturbed on how many of us act.

Despite the negative, I think, it is very important to promote direct contact between people, and foster opportunities for face-to-face meetings and experiencing one another. Travelling to different lands, or enabling people from other cultures visiting you are important ways of building understanding and bringing some of the stereotypes down. We should encourage it, I think, but only as long, as we remain truly open in our minds, empathetic to one another and ready to give up some of the comforts to accommodate the needs of other human beings around us.

I grant you that this post has become a little too long, but those are the thoughts that I wanted to share with you, while I am still enjoying my time off here in Poland (you can see the pictures here), before I resume my work at the end of this week.

Four years working in Panama for Latin America have passed very fast. I am now sitting in my house in Nowy Sacz, thinking of my amazingly rich experiences I had in the American continent, but also getting excited about my new chapter in life that is awaiting for me in Venezuela.

My last few weeks in Panama were enjoyable, despite being worked out in administrative procedures related to my departure. My colleagues and friends kept on surprising me all the time with small gifts, parties and dinners: all wanting me to have great last-minute memories. I really appreciated and enjoyed all of it.

The journey from Panama to Poland went well and comfortable. Yesterday, I landed in Krakow airport, where my Mum waited for me. The holiday is starting now, and we have some exciting plans, as you may remember from my last posts. Except hanging around in Poland and Europe, together with Mum we will be travelling to Madagascar for a week. We are already leaving on Friday. I can't wait and we hope to have some fantastic time there.

I should start working again during first week of August, however, it is unlikely that I will travel to Caracas immediately. The Venezuela visa process is likely to take some time, meaning that I will probably be teleworking from my Nowy Sacz home. I am excited about it, and look forward to be able to stay in Poland some extra time: a very rare opportunity for me!

I am entering my final moments in Panama. I am leaving in 10 days from now.

Busy and running around trying to prepare for my departure and more importantly prepare to my new deployment in Venezuela.

My colleagues have arranged an amazing farewell party for me last weekend. We had a great time and I got an amazing present (for details click here and scroll to the end of the album).

Then, I am also getting ready for my holidays in Poland and Madagascar. Now that I know that I am leaving, I can't wait to be travelling again!

More updates soon! In the meanwhile, sending best regards to wherever you are now!

It is hard to believe but I am leaving Panama in less than a month. I will surely prepare a small write-up of my four years in Panama and on this continent in some days, but wanted to update you all that all goes well here.

I am now in full swing of preparing everything for my departure, but also for my holidays and then arrival to Venezuela. So I am arranging the handover of my card, packing my belongings, dealing with administrative stuff, but also writing up my professional handover report, and preparing my briefings with people that will be taking over my responsibilities from me.

At the same time, I am quite busy coordinating with Mum on preparing our trip to Madagascar… trying to make sure that we have our malaria tablets, vaccinations ready, and also that we actually prepare ourselves in terms of planning the trip so it is fun and interesting.

Finally, I am trying to make sure that I am not lagging behind with arrangements for Venezuela. Now, the biggest challenge is to get my visa for the country, so I can actually legally enter Venezuela and start my new duties, hopefully in August. Most of the visa process will need to take place remotely in Caracas, but physically, I should be getting the actual document stamped into my passport at the Consulate of Venezuela in Warsaw.

Everything seems a bit chaotic at the moment, but eventually things progress, which is the most important.

Finally, you may remember that my friend, Christine, was visiting me here from Atlanta last weekend. It was absolutely great having her here, and show her a bit of my favourite parts of the city and its surroundings. Clearly, the best part was staying together, chatting and catching up. These few days with Christine made me remember again, how much I value and appreciate her! Can't wait to meet her again soon somewhere! Before that happens, you might want to check out some pictures from our time together (click here to access the album).

I feel emotional like a child today. I can't contain excitement and am very happy! The reason? I am taking Mum to Africa for the first time ever!

Between my deployments in Panama and Venezuela, I will have three weeks of holidays, and with all star aligning, I found this incredible trip to Madagascar that fit my plans perfectly: easy to accommodate, as there are direct flights from Warsaw (therefore the transfers are quick and relatively not too tiring), and right in the dates seem perfect too… Long enough to have a taste of the country but shortish to still enjoy Europe and prepare my coming to Venezuela afterwards.

You may very well know that I love Africa and her countries. Cultural variety, nature, kindness of people. It is the continent that fascinates and amazes me in every sense. I have always dreamt that my Mum has a chance to taste it too. The dreams seem to be coming true at last! Needless to say, I am even more excited, because although I have been to many countries in the continent, it will be my first time in Madagascar, whose beauty is renowned the world over! :) You probably are aware that many species (fauna and flora) are very unique to Madagascar and can be found only there. The Indian Ocean surrounding the country makes it even more pleasing, given some of the most amazing beaches in the world, and indeed the marital life is meant to be breathtaking too. The friendly people, (as I am told), their cuisine full of spices, dances and music only appear to make it a perfect spot to have a 'paradise like' experience. I can't wait!

My preparations for leaving Panama and starting my next deployment in Venezuela are advancing too. Work wise, I am drafting my end of deployment reports, and also reading a lot about the country where I am going to live for next four years. Practically, I am getting ready to pack my stuff, end my accommodation contracts, and conversely open reserve/book places where I will live in Caracas. I am not fun of all the administrative work at all, but these occasional changes give you a chance to reflect on your life a bit, and I think, I am already getting a bit sentimental.

Finally, in 5 days, my wonderful friend, who lives in Atlanta, will come and visit me here in Panama City for the weekend! We are going to have so much fun!

I hope, you are all well, wherever you may be!

I have now returned from the border between Mexico and the USA and working on my field visit report. The images of thousands of people living in the streets, in appalling conditions are still vivid in my mind. Individual stories of misery, abuse are difficult to forget, and perhaps should not be forgotten. Migrants walking from various parts of America towards the USA often live a situation that could easily be considered as hell. They end up in misery due to extreme poverty, political oppressions, lack of education and opportunities to advance and develop as human beings. Their stories matter and should not be forgotten. In fact, I am preparing a short account of some of the conversations that I had with various families in Mexico and will try sharing them with you sometime later.

In the meanwhile, my preparations for departing from Panama progress well. I am looking for agencies that would help me to bring some of my personal stuff from Panama to Venezuela, looking at contracts to donate my car, and start preparing my hand over notes. It seems like I still have time to do that, but then I realise that I will already be leaving in 6 weeks. Time flies, and I guess all will happen faster than I expect…

Before I go, I will have a visit here in Panama City. A very dear friend of mine, Christine, who lives and works in Atlanta (working for the renowned Centre for Disease Control and Prevention) comes here in two weeks to spend a few days with me. I am so excited of her visit. Christine is a dear friend of mine, and it will be so nice to chat with her, bring some of the common memories back and do some touristy stuff in the city and around! Really looking forward to her coming!

You may have read that there is a severe migration crisis developing at the border between Mexico and the United States. This follows changes to asylum laws recently introduced in the USA.

In order to assess the humanitarian consequences on migrants and host communities in northern Mexico, I am travelling tomorrow with a fact-finding mission.

As the trip goes on, I will be updating you with photo documentary. Tomorrow, I am starting with the City of Juarez, bordering with El Paso in the US (Texas). Stay tuned for more news soon!

I have just returned from Venezuela. The experience of the new country is still very strong inside me, as I think of Venezuela's beauty, amazingly friendly people, but also extraordinary challenges and hardships that many undergo on daily basis. It may be premature to say, but I have such a good feeling about the place and look forward to be moving there in August. I can't wait!

It is a strange feeling to be here in Panama City. Walking its street and realise that I am beginning to have my 'last everything' here. Last visits to cafes, Cinta Costera, Casco Viejo, Cangrejo's bars and parks. Panama has not been 'love at first sight' for me, as it seems to be the case with Venezuela. I have grown to like many aspects of my life in this country though, and will definitely miss it. I made many great friends here, I learnt my Spanish in this country, and I have has some of the most enjoyable working experience of my professional life.

I am looking at my schedule for next weeks. First days of May will be filled with numerous meetings and project administrative work in Panama. It will be busy, but lots of desk and sit-down work. It is actually a fairly strange feeling as I have no trips planned for weeks to come - highly unusual with my work. As things stand with my work, it may change at any moment, and I may be packing my bags sooner than I expect, but it is a nice feeling to know that I might stay in one place for some weeks.

I am back to Panama from my splendid holidays that I had in Portugal (see pictures here) and the Baltic countries (see pictures here). I had a great time, and enjoyed every moment of it. Visiting friends, enjoying fantastic weather of the Iberian Peninsula and discovering three new countries were very enjoyable and relaxing. I will remember the trip for a long time!

While I am still suffering from a jetlag, I am getting ready for my trip to Venezuela already. Tomorrow, I will be flying off to Caracas and will be in the country for 10 days. The main reason of my travel is to start my handing over process for my new job. You may remember that as of August this year, I will be moving to Venezuela to resume my duties as the organisation's head of office. Given the plans, it makes perfect sense for me to travel to the country now, so I get to know my new team, our operations, meet with partners and more importantly start understanding the humanitarian needs and context that we work in.

While in Venezuela, I will stay in Caracas, but also travel to project locations within the country. Needless to say that I am very excited with the prospects.

The trip to Venezuela reminds me that I am approaching my end of deployment here in Panama and that only a little over 3 months is left for me here. It is time to start arranging the practicalities of my move from here to my new home to be!

This is a very short entry to give you a short update from my trip to Europe.

My first part of the trip is about to finish. This is my last day in Portugal and tomorrow I am off to Latvia.

So, far I am having a wonderful time. Enjoying spring in Portugal, and learning about how the Portuguese celebrate their Easter. The experience is even nicer, as I do it together with my friends.

Despite being really happy here, I am excited to be travelling to Latvia tomorrow. You may remember that I will be visiting Riga and southern part of Estonia within the next couple of days. I have never been to that part of Europe, and I am very much looking forward to an opportunity of discovering new places!

I will report on my adventures in the Baltic states soon!

Tahir has just left from Panama, which makes me sad, as I really loved having him around (see some of the pictures of his trip here). His visit reminded me what a great person he is and how much I enjoy spending time with him and learn about his new adventures in Canada (and beyond). Despite being a bit nostalgic, there are many events to look forward to. On Wednesday, I will be travelling to Europe for my Easter break. I will first stay sometime in Portugal, at home in Obidos. Of course, I will also visit friends here and there, and this is really exciting.

If all goes according to plan, I will also be going to Latvia and Estonia for a few days for a short city break. I have never been to any of the Baltic countries, and I have heard that both countries are very interesting and have some stunning architecture. Definitely thrilled about discovering new places!

After returning to the Americas, I should be going to Venezuela at the end of April. As you can imagine, the visit to the country is related to my plans of moving there in August, and should give me a chance to kick-start the process of handover from the person that I will be replacing. Like in a case of the Baltic countries, I have never been to Venezuela yet, so I am also looking forward to the experience of learning about an entirely new place!

I shall keep you updated on my travels and will send you links to photos!

In the meanwhile, I hope you all are well!

Tahir has arrived safely to Panama, and we are enjoying the time very much. It is a rather short visit, so we are trying to make sure that we enjoy every possible moment. Together, we meet common friends, and travel in and out of the city! Above all, we chat and talk!

Tahir's visit reminds me how lucky I am that he has become a part of our family. I feel blessed and happy when he is around! As an additional bonus, as Ramadan is coming, we are getting ready to mark this important holiday.

If you wanna look at some of the pictures from his visit, you are welcome to do so by visiting this link (pictures from his visit at the bottom of the album).

In other news, we are busy with various humanitarian stresses around America. Floods in Paraguay and Peru, an earthquake in Ecuador are the main, but not the only events that keep us busy.

At the back of my mind, I am preparing for my Easter break in Europe. At the beginning of April, I will be travelling to Portugal and possibly to Lithuania and Estonia.

A big part of Paraguay is suffering from severe rains and floods. Many people are displaced and cut off from the world. If this was not enough, there is an outbreak of Dengue Fever in the affected areas.

Given the situation, I am flying with an emergency mission to Asuncion on Friday, and then will try to reach the affected areas on Saturday/Sunday. Hopefully, the visit will help us make determinations on whether and how how we could support the people in humanitarian needs.

I will keep you all updated on how the mission goes, and as usual will take pictures, so those, who are interested will be able to peep into what is happening in Gran Chaco.

The week's long HEAT training (Hostile Environment Awareness Training) has finished and I am now back home to Panama.

Overall, I enjoyed the experience a lot, and learnt a great deal too. First of all, we had participants from EU diplomatic mission from many various countries across Latin America. Literally everyone was very professional, but also what I like referring as 'human'. Extremely empathetic and kind people. Just having an opportunity to get to know the group was worth all the effort!

Then, we did learn a lot. We had sessions on general security threats, first aid to victims of accidents (including accidents of being shot at); operating radios and communication equipment in places where there is no telephone coverage; drawing and using maps; learning about mines, and how to get out to safety if you happen to end up in a mine infested areas; learning how to survive if you are caught in a cross-fire; training on arms and how to disable/discharge various types of weapon (pistols, revolvers, riffles, etc.); and finally how to survive if you are ambushed and are victim of the kidnapping.

While all of the sessions were very interesting, I loved the first aid part a lot. I especially got to appreciate ways of helping people who suffered injuries from shots, and accidents. It was amazing to learn how to stop bleeding (with actual artificial blood involved); secure a patient who have lots an eye or a limp, and or how to help a victim in a situation where you yourself are in danger (for example when you are ambushed).

I however have some mixed feelings from the kidnapping part. The session was arranged by our instructors (who were all amazing, by the way). It was however physically and above all emotionally challenging part. The kidnapping exercise woke some of my demons from the past, which I would prefer not remember. I will not lie, I was and still am shaken, and trying to deal with it and forget about the whole thing.

Even if things were a bit difficult, as I wrote, I appreciated the experience very much.

In case, you would like to see some images from my week in Colombia, here comes my photo report (of our training and our free time (by the way Medellin rocks)).

In other news, I am now getting ready to welcome Tahir to Panama City. He should be arriving here from Toronto on 17th March, and needless to say that I am very excited! I hope that there will be no emergencies that I need to attend before that, although there are indications that floods in Paraguay may bring some unexpected developments on the humanitarian front.

Carnaval means a great deal here in Panama, so and so that the country grants some additional days off, so people can party or travel to visit their families and friends living far away. Being absolutely honest, I was not planning to celebrate much, but then I appreciated some extra time off and took an opportunity to visit the National Park of Chagres, some 60 km from Panama City. I absolutely loved the experience. The park is home to tropical forests and many wild animals with some amazing opportunities to see colourful birds, various amphibians and if lucky, crocodiles (which I did at the distance). After an hour of a pretty and comfortable drive, I reached one of the reception points, where I hired a small wooden boat, which then took me for an excursion along the Chagres River. Very relaxing and a beautiful day with some enjoyable conversations with my boat drivers, who were very kind and hospitable. We all know that at times, pictures are worth thousand words, so I thought I would share with you a link to a gallery with a photo report (end of the album) from the trip. If you ever have a chance to visit Panama, make sure to plan for a visit in the park. Absolutely worth it!

As you may have read in my previous post, I am leaving for Colombia for the HEAT training this Sunday. We are required to renew our HEAT certificate at least once every 5 years, so that we can work and travel in countries that are considered as 'high risk' countries. As I will be posted in Venezuela and it appears on the list (among a bunch of other countries in Central and South America), the training is really relevant and important for me, so that I can carry on my duties uninterrupted.

Finally, I am getting prepared for Tahir's visit to Panama. He is coming in the third week of March and will be with me for 10 days. It has been far too long without seeing him, and I am very excited to spend time together!

Once again, I have a good example that things keep changing at my work constantly and one can never be sure of what next week may bring (I guess, this is why I love this job so much!). Well, as it stands today, I will be participating in the security training in Medellin of Colombia after all. It appears that one place has freed up and the organisers have invited me to take part. I am now arranging last moment administrative procedures so that I can travel to Colombia the following Sunday. I am glad for this potential change and look forward to the experience!

Other peace of great news is that we have purchased a ticket for Tahir to visit me here in Panama. He will be coming from Toronto at the end of March. He will only stay for 9 days, but I am so super excited of his coming!

Also, I am looking at options for my Easter break in April. I will be on holidays for 10 days or so, and considering options where to go and what to do. I may end up in Europe, potentially in Portugal, but nothing written in stone yet.

Finally, Panama is about to start its Carnaval celebrations today. The celebrations are famous across Central America, and attract a good crowd of people from overseas to play, dance and enjoy music and parties. This year is set to be special, as the celebrations are resuming after 3 years of COVID-19 related bans.

I am a little disappointed today, as some of my plans travel/training plans changed, and this causes some inconvenience in weeks ahead. At the end of the month, I was about to travel to Bogota to participate in an obligatory security training, which we need to undergo every 5 years. The event was cancelled however. The training produces a certificate, which gives us internal rights to travel to some of the countries, which are considered to be 'high risk' in our organisation. I am not too keen on the training itself, but still looked forward to have it done, so that I can carry out my work without disturbances. The cancellation does not only change my plans, but puts a bit of a stress, as I will need to unroll to a similar course elsewhere at the different date. These things happen though, so I will keep my chills down :).

We are very busy here in the office reading and assessing project proposals from partners for 2023. It is always a bit stressful time, but then also interesting. Reading the documents from our partners always brings some new elements and information that are interesting and broaden your horizons. This year, most of my reading is about the humanitarian situation and challenges in Gran Chaco (northern Argentina, Paraguay and parts of Bolivia) and the situation of Venezuelan migrants in Chile. Very interesting, even if upsetting and sad at times.

Talking about Chile, we are also very busy with dealing with the forest fires there. The country is undergoing some of the worst droughts in recent history, and this translates into thousands of hectares of woods being burnt. The situation is tragic, with thousands of people losing home, and many being killed and injured by the disaster. As I write it, fire brigade teams from Portugal, Spain and France are on the way to Chile to support local forces in extinguishing the flames.

Clearly, we are also upset and worried about what is happening in Turkey and Syria. The images of the destruction and people's suffering caused by the earthquake that struck the region are heartbreaking. My colleagues in Brussels and various places around Europe are very busy in arranging rescue and relief operations. Needless to say, I am very, very proud of them. They are genuine heroes to me!

In other news, I am starting looking at practical aspects of my moving to Caracas. As a part of it, I will actually be travelling there already in April, so that I can start the process of the handover from my colleague. Wish me luck!

So after a great trip to Europe (links to pictures from Slovakia, Cyprus, Belgium and Poland), I am here in Miami for a very short visit. Just 2 days, transiting from Warsaw to Panama City.

It is a strange place, I think. On one side there are many things that I like about it. It is clean, and in many ways progressive (in a way that I like). The nature is stunning, and the sea and beaches are amazing. Then, what I really like is this unique feeling of the melting pot. One meets the people from everywhere, and the strong influence of the Latino and Caribbean culture is just so nice. In that sense, I really loved exploring the Cuban neighbourhood called 'Little Havana'. Charming, colourful and filled with nice people, also making you realise a tragic modern history of Cuba.

There there is also this part of Miami (or perhaps, it is the US) that scares me. When one passes the schools, one feels like looking at high security prisons or bunkers with security wires, fences, gates and cameras. Clearly, chilling reminder of the gun laws in force and consequences it has on lives of people, and the security in the country. I was also shocked to realise how deep rooted and important it is for people here to underline that they are 'the best'. We have 'the best economy', 'the best country', 'the most innovative cities'… one hears all the time. It is puzzling to listen to this, knowing that while the US definitely has its charms and attraction, it is also a country of people living in poverty beyond belief and economic inequalities not experienced in many countries, which theoretically are 'poorer' that the US.

In any case, I have enjoyed the stay altogether, trying to focus on things that I enjoyed rather than at things that irritated me. And a cherry on a cake was an unexpected reunion with my dear friend from Mexico, Charly, who happened to be visiting Florida for a short time!

I am off to Panama City tonight. Tomorrow, back to work at last. It has been a long holiday and I look forward to re-engage with my 'stable life'.

Finally here comes a link to photos from visit to Miami. Enjoy the pictures!

I really enjoyed my January holiday with family and friends in Europe a great deal. It has been quite hectic, but in a nice way. Except travelling to Poland (and around the southern part of the country), together with Mum, we spent a week in Cyprus and I had a day trip to Berdejov of Slovakia. I also went to Brussels for my periodic medical check-ups.

Literally everything went really well, was special and enjoyable. Long chats with Mum, visiting family and friends, going out for dinners, visiting sites around Poland, Cyprus and Belgium, and good outcome of the results from the medical tests.

Now, it is time to prepare to go back to the Americas. I will be travelling to Miami tomorrow (where I will meet some friends too), and then to Panama 3 days later, so that I can report back to the office on 1st February.

February will be a busy period at work with revisions of humanitarian projects for 2023, and a security training that I am planning to undergo in Bogota at the end of the month.

And then, somewhere looming, I will need to start thinking of my move to Venezuela… Time flies!

Here are links to some of the pictures from my holidays:

Slovakia, Cyprus, Belgium, Poland, USA

Together with Mum, we are off to Cyprus tomorrow. We are flying to Paphos from Krakow early morning, where we will stay for one week. We are going there to escape the cold and the winter primarily, but clearly we are very excited, because neither of us know the country/island yet! We are planning to have an easy time there (chilling), but surely, should be able to do some sightseeing of the island too!

My holiday in Europe has been going really well so far. I have visited friends and family in Nowy Sacz, and also travelled a bit (with Mum and her friend). We went to see Bardejov in Slovakia (see pictures here), and then enjoyed sights of Nowy Sacz, Krynica, Krakow and villages in the Tatra Mountains in southern Poland (see pictures here). Surprisingly, the weather has been very generous to us, and despite lower temperatures, we had lots of sun, which makes such a difference!

I have enjoyed visiting my familiar sights very much and got reminded that I am very lucky to live around amazing places. Krakow is just stunning, Bardejov is charming and then the mountains… breathtaking! Good to know this part of Europe, which generally is less known in the world.

So a week in Cyprus for now, but then, I am still going to travel a bit. Right after Cyprus, I will be travelling (short work trip) to Brussels, and then few more days in Poland, during which I am planning to see friends in Warsaw. Finally, as a cherry on a cake, I am going to spend 2 days in Miami, on my way to Panama City.

I will be updating the photo albums along the way, so should you wish to look them up, do visit again!

Sending warmest greetings to all of you reading the message.

I am finally in Nowy Sacz again, staying with Mum, and enjoying meeting family members and friends, as well as moving around a bit, trying to see what's new in the region and revisit places that I like. The weather is unusually warm for January, however there is a bit of a winter feeling, which actually is a nice mix. It is an easy and relaxing time. I chat with Mum a lot at home, but we also get out a lot. We have already gone to Krynica, and Bardejov in Slovakia. Tomorrow, we are planning to go for a day trip to Krakow, and then on Sunday, we are flying to Paphos in Cyprus for a week. It is such a blessing to be able to enjoy time together! All very relaxing and nourishing, and the time at home makes me feel happy and help recharging batteries for new challenges.

There is still lots of excitement left for this holiday. As I mentioned, tomorrow, we will be in Krakow, and then on Sunday we are flying off to Cyprus. After that, I will be visiting Brussels (2 days for work), and then back to Nowy Sacz again. For the last bit, before returning to Panama, I should be having a chance to visit friends in Warsaw and then Miami.

I will soon be updating galleries online. Of course, you will be able to see links to the pictures in my 'Photo Section'.

Reception at the Hilton Hotel, Rzeszow, Poland, April 2022

Christmas and New Year's Eve breaks are over. Luckily things were really quiet on a humanitarian front and I actually managed to get some rest after missions to Dominican Republic/Haiti border and Chile.

It is time now to think about preparing to travel to Europe. On Friday, I am taking a flight to Miami, and then off to Krakow via Warsaw. While in Europe, I will stay in Nowy Sacz for some days, and then with Mum we will travel to Paphos in Cyprus for around a week. After Cyprus, I will need to make it to Brussels for 2 days for some work related stuff, and then back to Poland for 3 days, probably visiting friends in Warsaw.

On a way to Panama, I will have 2 days in Miami, so that I can explore the South Beach and the Latin part of the city.

I am looking forward to the trip, even if Europe will be in the middle of winter. I hope to enjoy meeting family and friends and some new places I have not yet been to. As usual, I will be posting pictures in the digital albums, so stay tuned 😉!

New Year's Eve is just around the corner… An eventful 2022 is about to finish, and we are all looking forward to discover what 2023 may be bringing us.

Personally, I have had a very eventful year, an account of which, I have tried to sum up in my last blog entry.

I am sure that you all have had some amazing stories from past 12 months. I would actually love to read/hear some of yours whenever possible, so please feel free to send an e-mail or two ;). Better so, perhaps we could plan to meet and chat?

In any case, I would like to wish you all, wherever you are a very, very special 2023. May you all be very happy. If you manage to be happy, it means that everything else falls in places where they are supposed to. So yes… lots and lots of happinesses to you and your loved ones!

Look forward to interacting with you in 2023!

And just in case in next few weeks I will be travelling. It will be a packed schedule, but one never knows. Perhaps, I could meet some of you. I will be in the following places:

1. Nowy Sacz / Krakow area; Poland
2. Phafos, Cyprus
3. Brussels, Belgium
4. Warsaw, Poland (potentially, to be confirmed)
5. Miami, USA

Here comes the Holiday Newsletter to my friends. I hope you enjoy reading it!

CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR GREETINGS FROM ROMAN
PANAMA CITY, DECEMBER 2022

It is Christmas Eve morning. The sky is blue, not a single cloud on it. It is blazing hot, typically for this part of the year in Central America and I am sitting at the desk in my living room at Panama City’s apartment, looking at the Pacific, listening to jazz styled Christmas Carols. Thinking of the passing year… and what a year it was[1]… full of adventure, joys and preoccupations, some sadness, travels, getting to know new people and some hard work too. 

In November, I turned 50! Realising that I am now over half a century old is a strange sensation, but somehow quite nice and liberating too. But before I get to the birthday celebrations, I will go back to be beginning of the year.

Stereotypically to my work, I entered 2022 on the plane, travelling from Panama City to Brazil’s Salvador (via Sao Paulo) to respond to humanitarian needs caused by the floods in north-eastern provinces of Bahia and Minas Gerais[2]. Working in Brazil was a sweet-bitter experience. On one side, very impressed with my remarkable humanitarian colleagues, but also very frustrated with social and economic injustice, which at the end of the day is responsible for much of the suffering that one sees. Same, old story. It is the poor who are the most vulnerable and it is the poor who take the biggest hit, when disasters strike.

In March, I travelled to Argentina and Paraguay[3], where I travelled at the vast areas of Gran Chaco, looking at the devastations done by the ongoing droughts and the consequent forest fires. Northern Argentina and much of Paraguay are home to various indigenous groups, typically living in hard-to-reach villages, without roads leading to them, with little or no infrastructure of any kind, being totally dependent on what they can produce on their own farms, or fish they can catch in river. Life in Gran Chaco has always been tough for people there, but changes in weather patterns: severe droughts and Armageddon-style storms and floods challenge the livelihoods of these communities even more. I can’t stress enough how much people suffer from not being able to produce enough food for themselves. Crops don’t grow, rivers get dry, animals die of thirst. Consequences are easy to grasp. Entire villages become food insecure, people reduce number of meals, malnutrition soars. Things are bad really.

As I was busy with my work in the Americas, the war in Ukraine broke out, causing massive flow of refugees to many parts of Europe, including my native Poland. As you can guess, for my organisation, the conflict prompted an enormous build-up of humanitarian operations in Ukraine itself, but also support services in neighbouring countries such as Poland, Slovakia, Romania, or Hungary. The needs put an immense stress on all of us in the organisation, and volunteers were called to support the operations from other regions of the world. Naturally, I felt compelled to offer my assistance and after spending a very moving Easter with my family in southern Poland and northern Romania, I headed for a month to western Ukraine to look after some aspects of our functions there[4]. The whole spring visit to Europe was such an emotional experience. Seeing an amazing, and often selfless response from thousands of European families across Poland, Slovakia, and Romania to help out millions of Ukrainians fleeing in search of safety made me feel thrilled in a way. I felt pleased and encouraged to see so many acting humanely, without expecting anything in return. What I experienced in Ukraine itself was a mixture of emotions as well. Being very impressed with how the communities in the west of the country organised themselves to help those fleeing the violence in other parts of Ukraine. I was also extremely angry and sad to hear thousands of heart wrenching stories of people’s personal miseries, loss, and tragedies. Being Polish, the war has some additional bearing as well. In some ways Ukraine resembles Poland a lot. Western Ukraine’s architecture, culture, food, music, customs… are to a large extent very similar to what I am used to at home. Whether I liked it or not, the war touched me being Slavic myself. And although I know that conflicts and wars are horrible to everyone, regardless of where they happen in the world, things were a bit different, given that I felt some personal/cultural connection to the people with whom I worked. To explain a bit better some of my feelings, you may appreciate a short and touching (I felt touch, at least) experience of a meeting with a young boy, during a missile attack on L’viv. Finally, what was wonderful when I worked in L’viv and Uzhorod, was meeting some old humanitarian friends from various parts of the world and getting to know countless new Ukrainian and international colleagues, whom I adored for being brave, selfless, but also very professional and simply wonderful human beings.

In June, I returned to the Americas, and straight away travelled to Recife of Brazil[5], for yet another flood response, where I had a déjàvu experience… thinking that I was back to January… very familiar situations, once more prompting some mixed feelings of admiration to my colleagues, and disappointment with an overall and overwhelming unfairness around the country.

Later, my professional wanderings took me to Bogota and eastern part of Colombia at the basin of River Orinoco[6], on the border with Venezuela. Among many humanitarian interventions in the country, much of our work in Colombia relates to preparedness to disasters and crisis situations. My mission to the country was precisely that: assess the overall levels of country’s preparedness to disasters on central level and looking at practical solutions applied in the areas along River Orinoco.  I found the trip extremely interesting professionally, but I must admit that I fell in love with the beauty of the places I visited. Absolutely stunning nature and very kind and friendly people. I definitely would like to explore Colombia even more, if I ever have a chance!

The end the year, exposed me to two more humanitarian crises: one in the Dominican Republic and the other one in Chile. I travelled to both countries in December. While in Dominican Republic, together with UN colleagues, we looked at the humanitarian consequences of massive scale expulsions of Haitians and Dominicans of Haitian-decent to Haiti. Without going to details, as the memories are still fresh in my mind, the trip shook me to the core, and caused outrage, as well as deep disappointment over how we humans, tend to treat one another. The level of hatred, xenophobia, unfair treatment towards Haitians, who simply try surviving and making lives for themselves and their children bearable distressed me and made me feel helpless and genuinely sad.

The stories of Venezuelans (mainly, but also other nationalities) walking to Chile[7] across the continent show yet another example of human tragedy and misery, but also heroism. Migrants arriving to the country escape from inexplicable cruelty of injustice, and poverty at home, but also abuse, rape, intimidation, and exploitation on the way. Then on the other hand, there are many stories of resilience, human solidarity, and hope. It was good to see that despite many negative sentiments (and at times clear abuse), many Chileans do whatever they can to welcome thousands of Venezuelans to their new homes and show solidarity with less fortunate by denouncing acts of xenophobia and demanding effective and refugee friendly policies.

But except my professional life, I enjoyed a great deal of personal joys and good moments. I toured extensively in 2022 to do sightseeing, visit my friends and family. As such, I managed to travel around Panama a bit (see Album 1), but also to Dominican Republic[8], Argentina[9] (took some time off, after a professional mission to the north of the country) Portugal (with a stopover in New York)[10]. The absolute hit was a visit to Argentinian Patagonia, which overwhelmed me with its beauty to the point of leaving me speechless and humble. Then the trip to Portugal to celebrate my 50th birthday with friends and family let me experiences that I will always cherish and remember (even if Tahir did not make it eventually, as he had lost his travel document just days before the trip!). Portugal is an amazing country, and I am ever so grateful to have it as my adoptive home!

In other news, you may want to know that Tahir is well in Canada and is enjoying his life there very much. He now owns a small carpenter enterprise (yes, you have read it right), which is successful, and is starting his own family with his partner Amna! I can’t describe my delight to know that he is doing so well and seems to be happy.

Finally, you should know that it seems like as of August 2023, I am likely to be moving to Caracas. Although, some more administrative work needs to finalise, it looks like I will be working as ECHO’s Head of Office for Venezuela. Needless to say, how excited I am to be having a chance to work among some of the most amazing and friendly people I know. Clearly, I am aware of the potential challenges (possibly frustrations) that are awaiting, however look forward to this new life’s chapter and adventures!

2022 has been amazing. Challenging, difficult, but also full of joy, professional satisfaction, personal adventures, friends, family, and lots of love!

I am now leaving you with wishes of the most wonderful Christmas and/or holiday and with wishes of prosperity, health, and happiness in 2023!

All the best to all of you!
Roman

[1] Album: Panama in 2022
[2] Album: Floods in Bahia Province
[3] Albums: Assessing the impact of fires in northern Argentina; Paraguay: an unknown destination in South America
[4] Albums: Easter and spring break in Europe; Working in Ukraine; An unexpected break at home
[5] Album: Recife foods
[6] Album: Basin of Orinoco River and images of Bogota
[7] Album: Lives of refugees in Chile
[8] Album: The Caribbean vibes of Santo Domingo and charms of eastern part of Hispaniola Island
[9] Album: North, centre and south of Argentina
[10] Albums: Birthday celebrations; Manhattan in four hours

Refugee Camp, Iquique, Chile, December 2022

I am on the plane travelling from Santiago de Chile back to Panama City. I am tired, as the mission to Chile proved to be hectic. The trip involved a great deal of travelling between various camps and refugee centres in Santiago and its surroundings, but also in Iquique in the northern part of the country. As you can imagine, I carried out dozens of interviews with the refugees, and held many meetings with authorities and humanitarian practitioners. All very interesting but also draining. I guess, it is fair that I am not just physically tired, but emotionally exhausted. The situation of the asylum seekers who arrive to the country is complicated, and at times hopeless. More often than not, when people finally manage to cross Chilean borders (after walking for thousands of kilometres across parts of Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia), are sick from weeks of maltreatment, abuse, hunger and exhaustion. Stories that one hears are heartbreaking and frankly inhumenly cruel, shaking the belief of existence of goodness of any kind. Rape, humiliation, death of friends/family members, physical abuse, robberies appear to be reality of essentially all people I talked to. Yet, when they reach Chile, what is waiting for them is far from a rosy and comfortable future. Instead of peace of mind, people need to deal with xenophobia, lack of access to basic services, irregular migration status, poor work prospects and a very high likelihood of extreme poverty. Arriving refugees, perhaps are not sent back home, but are not allowed to regularise their residency and right to work either, and hence, remain highly vulnerable to abuse and destitution. Listening to horrific experiences of so many, and realising how dramatic their lives are likely to be, made me feel angry, powerless, and eventually wore me off. My disgust was even stronger, as the experiences and stories of forced displacement of Dominicans of Haitian descent to Haiti are still fresh in my mind, after my recent emergency mission to the Dominican Republic. All in all, somehow, I am not in a particular Christmas cheer mood, really. I realise I need to recover fast, and put my new experience to work for some positive change, rather than feeling miserable. This is going to be my main task for next few days!

On a much better note, I am really pleased to let you know that I have been selected to serve as the Head of Office for ECHO in Venezuela based in Caracas. There is still some administrative fine tuning to be done, but if all goes well as of August 2023, I will be moving to Venezuela for 4 years. Very, very exciting news!

I will still write before the end of 2022, so the Christmas and New Years wishes will come a bit later.

Sending you all my best regards!

In a slightly unexpected manner, I have just found out that tomorrow I will need to be flying to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic with an emergency mission.

There is a severe humanitarian crisis caused by the detentions and deportations of Haitian migrants in the entire country. The problems are exacerbated by a very difficult situation in Haiti itself. All in all, as you can imagine thousands of people are left in a desperate situation with massive protection and humanitarian needs.

My job, during the mission is to learn about the severity and scale of the challenges and support the humanitarian responders in their efforts to lessen these stresses. Except Santo Domingo, I will be traveling to the border with Haiti as well.

I will be finishing my mission on Saturday, just in time to travel to Santiago de Chile, as already reported to you in my last post. Wish me luck! I will be reporting soon!

However hard it is to believe, December has arrived already, and I am wondering how is it possible that 2022 has nearly passed and that we are preparing yet for another Christmas and end of the year celebrations. It has not been a boring year, when it comes to my personal and professional life, and certainly the world politics has managed to keep many of us on our toes. In any case, I am preparing a holiday message to you all, where I imagine I would reflect on some of the more significant highlights of the year.

In the meanwhile, I am trying to survive Qatar World Cup. I dislike football. Not a game as such, but what football has become when it comes arrogance, money it involves, brutality of some of the supporters and associated nationalism/tribalism that the games seem to spark. It is difficult not to pay attention at the games. All media feeds, and many of my contacts seem to be excited by the games. 'Vamos Argentina'; 'go Senegal'; 'Polska górą' type of messages drive me crazy. It is still well over 2 weeks of it left… Can't wait for all of it to stop!

On the other hand, I am quite busy with work. The end of the year always involves with some extra work: both in terms of closing up some of the projects, and preparing/planning for the activities for the next one. Tomorrow, for example, we are arranging a meeting with our partners from the whole continent, where we will be discussing about humanitarian challenges in next 12 months. I like these meetings. Frequently, the people participating draw my attention on issues that I may not appreciate or see in the same way, which is a very good challenge.

I am also preparing for my next work related trip. In a week, I am off to Santiago de Chile, and the Iquique in the northern part of the country, where I will be visiting projects which we co-finance, and are meant to provide some of the basic services for refugees and migrants arriving to Chile (mainly from Venezuela). Can't wait to go. Some of you are aware that I am very fond of (and a little proud, in a good way) our support of refugees in Chile. The humanitarian needs are very clear there, and I feel that our support makes a small but important difference to people who get it, but especially small children.

When it comes to Christmas (and New Year), if all goes as planned, I will be in Panama. Most of my colleagues will be travelling during the holiday season, but I decided to stay behind and have an eye on possible emergencies on the continent, ready to be deployed, if needs arise.

In January, I will be travelling to Europe again (using my untaken holiday from 2022). For a part of my visit, I will stay in Poland, with my family in Nowy Sacz, but also planning to spend a week in Paphos of Cyprus, where I should go with Mum (to escape the winter for a bit). I will also need to be going to Brussels for 3 days (work related) and on the way back, I am planning to stop in Warsaw and Miami to see friends. Certainly exciting and fairly busy trip, as it seems, and I look forward to it very much!

Three weeks in Portugal passed very fast, and just like that, I am back to Panama. I had a wonderful holiday with family and friends in Portugal, and a great New York visit (however short), and now recharged, so that I enjoy my work related challenges at the end of the year.

I am now preparing for my trip to Chile. At the beginning of December, I should be going there to visit on one of our projects that we run with UNHCR, whose aim is to give emergency assistance to Venezuelan refugees arriving to the country. For various reasons, the project in Chile is very dear to me. Not only that the humanitarian needs are substantial, the project is sentimental to me, as I helped in designing our humanitarian intervention there two years ago. I am definitely looking forward to checking on how things go and how the situation may have changed for the refugees, so that we can adjust our interventions in the future. We are hoping to prepare some visual materials from the project, and once ready, I will share all with you, so that you can appreciate a bit the successes and challenges faced by our beneficiaries when starting their new lives in Chile.

In addition to my immediate responsibilities, I am preparing myself for interviews that will determine what I may be doing after my deployment in Panama finishes. Next week, there should already be some further information on potential opportunities, and I am anxious to find out what those may be. Really hoping that something interesting will come up! Again, I will keep you posted.

Cascais, Portugal, October 2022

I have now arrived to Portugal after a rather pleasant trip via Newark (see pictures here).

I am staying at my friends' place in Cascais for a few days, and waiting for my family arrive from Poland on Thursday. Once they are here, we will together travel to Madeira and then after that spend time together at my home in Obidos. Can't wait until they are here.

In the meantime, I am having the greatest time. My friends pumper me and make sure I am looked after like a royalty… great conversations, great walks and wonderful food. Life is good!

I will be on the plane to Lisbon in less then two weeks! I can't wait… I have not been to Portugal for far too long now, and it is definitely time to go and visit my favourite place on earth! I really hope that this trip to the country is going to be really special. I am going to be celebrating my 50th birthday anniversary, and my family (mum, and my brother's family) will all be there. A little sad that Tahir will not be able to join after all, but then, we do have plans to meet later during the winter, somewhere in Central America (makes it less sad that he would not be in Portugal). The trip to Portugal should also be special, as we are planning to visit Madeira. The island is supposed to be having a very special microclimate, resembling European spring, all-year long! Can't wait!

After visiting Portugal, I will be busy with following-up on the refugee projects in Chile. If all goes according to plans, I will be travelling to Santiago and then northern part of Chile in December, just before Christmas. Look forward to this as well, as I enjoy working on projects dealing with well-being of refugees, and certainly much to be done in that respect in Chile.

It is difficult to believe that it is already time to start thinking of my next posting after Panama. Next summer, I will finishing my assignment here, and it is already time to start bidding for my next post for our rotation in 2023. I have already officially expressed interests in some of the posts, but will inform you of the outcome, when I have more conclusive news!

Since my return from Argentina, we have been busy with various disasters in the region. First, we had massive rains across Central America, then the hurricane Fiona devastated (literally) western Cuba (as well as Florida in the United States). At the same time, we are dealing with the cholera outbreak in Haiti, and preparing for a possible emergency in Nicaragua and Honduras from the approaching hurricane called Julia (expected to make a landing tomorrow). All of these events are tragic for the affected people, but also makes us very busy here at the regional office. I am now preparing for a possible emergency deployment to either Nicaragua or Honduras if the situation is really bad, but we will assess it and decide tomorrow or on Monday.

In other news, we finally managed to move to a new office building in Ciudad del Saber. Our office has a very modern and friendly design, and is situation in a lovely park. Looking outside of the window (see above) is a joy for eyes and makes half of the stresses go away!

I am also preparing for my birthday trip to Europe, which is exciting. My family and I will be touring Portugal together. A bit of a blow is that Tahir will not be able to join us, as he has just lost his passport, and it will take a while for the replacement to be done. I looked forward to seeing him in Europe and show him around Portugal, but I guess, we will need to wait with it for another opportunity. Nevertheless, despite being disappointed that he would not be there, I am still excited to a prospect of having the rest of the family there!

I will be updating you soon on how the situation in the Caribbean and Central America develops. Keep the fingers crossed so that 'Julia' is not too devastating. In the meanwhile, please accept my warmest regards wherever in the world you are!

I got back to Panama from Argentina 2 days ago, but the experience of Patagonia: its breathtaking but severe beauty, the warmth of the her people is with me and is not weaning off. Southern Argentina is, without doubts, one of the most beautiful, if not, the most beautiful place I have ever had a chance to visit in my entire life.

The beauty of that part of the world is overwhelming. It humbles and liberates you at the same time. It is actually likely to make you cry from emotions. I remember when I walked around the Perito Moreno Glacier, trekked through the mountains in El Chalten, sailed around the waters of Tierra del Fuego, I felt like if I was in some sort of paradise that I would never want to leave. I do not want to put words to these emotions, as they would not do justice to how I felt. I can just say that I was filled with pure joy. The sights, the calm, the colours, the smell, the cold, the snow and the kindness of the people will stay with me and will be cherished forever. I do not know whether I will ever have a chance to visit Patagonia again, but even if not, I will always be grateful to have had a chance to experience the ultimate beauty and the paradise.

If you ever have a chance to visit southern Argentina, do not hesitate for a second. Just go and allow yourself to feel overwhelmed with happiness!

It is time to travel again. Tomorrow, I am off to Salta in northern Argentina, where I will be visiting some of the disaster preparedness projects that we are running at the indigenous communities together with our partners. The focus of the projects is related to dealing with flash floods, droughts and forestal fires, which are all very common in the area and make the population slip into humanitarian crises when they occur.

Preparing for disasters constitutes core of our activities in the Americas. Our projects derive from a conviction that the more prepared you are, the cheaper and easier it is to deal with the consequences when they eventually come.

As usual, I will be reporting my trip with pictures, and will make sure that you have a link to the images soon!

I have been really busy over last two weeks, changing my flats in Panama. All is done however, and now I officially live in Punta Pacifica, Panama City's residential area on the Pacific Ocean. I love my new flat, especially the morning views (a beautiful sunrise over the ocean). Despite loving the old part of Panama City, I think I will be happy in my new place (some pictures from the new place can be seen in the Panama album).

I am also getting ready for what it seems to be busy travelling months of September, October and November. I will soon be going to Argentina and then will be in the US, Portugal, Belgium and Poland (a mixture of work and personal related reasons). More news on that come in days and weeks to come.

My working trip to Argentina has just been approved and I am starting my preparations to travel to Buenos Aires, and to Salta Province to monitor projects that we are supporting in the country.

You may remember that Argentina is one of my favourite ones in the continent, so I am really excited to be going, especially so as I will take an additional week in the country, so that I can do some sightseeing after my work related visits. I have not quite decided yet what I am going to see during my break, but starting my investigations. The country is so big and so interesting… Now, just hard decisions to be made ;)

Today, we celebrate World Humanitarian Day. To mark the occasion, Maciej Orłoś (a famous journalist in Poland) in cooperation with the European Commission are airing a programme on EU's work in Ukraine. In today's episode, I am talking about our work in Ukraine and the humanitarian work in general.

The conversation is in Polish, and as such many of you will not be able to understand it. In short, the messages I am trying to convey are simple:

- We are experiencing a humanitarian tragedy in Ukraine, with consequences on people in Ukraine, but also globally.

- Humanitarian interventions work and make huge difference to affected people, as long as we try reaching all victims regardless of who they are, what they believe in, or where they come from.

- The humanitarian operations in Ukraine are the best example of human solidarity, especially as millions of people join in selflessly to extent their support to people who need it!

- The operations would not be possible without thousands of people involved in logistics and administration of aid, so it can reach people where it is needed.

Last, but not least, the message I am trying to convey is that the overwhelmingly positive humanitarian support in Ukraine should be an inspiration for all of us to extend the same level of support elsewhere in the world, as indeed the tragedies we are experiencing in Ukraine are equally visible in many other parts of the world.

Should you wish to watch the interview, you are welcome to click on this link.

It is confirmed now. I am leaving my Casco Viejo home, and moving to a new apartment, some 3 km away. While I am excited to be going to a new place, I am also sad. I like the Old Town of Panama City, and despite being tiring at times, it also has lots of charm.

As you can imagine, the two weeks to come will be really busy, as I will be trying to arrange all the practicalities related to moving my stuff from one place to the other. I will shoot some pictures, so that you can appreciate my new place too. Stay tuned!

In other news, tomorrow we will be celebrating the International Day of Humanitarian Worker. To mark the occasion, there will be a podcast interview published with me (conducted by M. Orłoś, the journalist in Poland) on our humanitarian work in Ukraine. Once the material is online, I will surely share a link with all of you.

Yesterday, I needed to visit the Polish Consulate in Panama to file the application for my new passport. The one that I am having now is running out of pages. It was a nice experience. A super friendly Consul dealt with me professionally, efficiently and with a smile! Really appreciated it.

I am very uneasy about the politics in Poland for last few days. After some weeks of ease, and hope that finally our politicians came to senses (at least to some extent), last few days remind me brutally that there is so little I agree with when it comes to European policies of my own government, and linked to that to the government's perception of what justice, or rule of law is. Listening to some of my home politicians is not only revolting, but also scary and leaves so many of us, Poles uncertain about which direction the country will go. I absolutely hate it, as the present regime seems to be questioning the very basic arrangements that the country has been trying to fit into for last 30 years or so. Perhaps, I have too little tolerance to this kind of politics making, but here we go, I feel unhappy and disappointed, yet again. Can't wait for the next general elections. Perhaps, things will not change for the better, but perhaps they will. One more year to go!

In order to ease my frustrations related to politics, I am arranging my next trip to Argentina. If all goes according to plan, I would be going there in September. The trip is to visit the projects that we participate in. As usual, I would visit Buenos Aires, and the northern provinces of the country, south of the border with Paraguay. This time around, I am also looking at the option of taking a week extra and arrange for a holiday too. If this works, I would like to travel southwards and perhaps to Uruguay, which I do not know yet. Will keep you updated on how the preparations go.

It seems I will be moving soon. It is a bit of a sweet-bitter feeling. I love my present flat here in the Old Town of the city, but my flat has defeated me. Constant problems with leakages during storms and thus never ending reparation teams coming and going (and never fixing the problem properly) forced me to take a decision to go.

I will be leaving at the end of August and moving into the part of the city that is filled with modern looking sky-scrapers. No, it is not that pretty as the old town, and it is far less charming, but it has its perks too. For a start, despite all the skyscrapers, it is a quieter part of city and it is quite green. The flat is just a walking distance to super markets, and great restaurants. I will also balcony literally facing the Pacific Ocean, with some amazing views. Finally, I will have a bathtub and a shower, and yes, I am very excited to be able to have hot baths from time to time! All in all, despite a bit sad to be leaving my little haven in the Colonial City, I am now ready to move, and will concentrate on things that are nice there!

In any case, come and visit, when you have a chance!

I have just returned from my holiday break, and now getting ready for a busy summer. We are already well into the hurricane season in the Caribbean Sea, and usually that means lots of emergency missions that one cannot necessarily plan for. The odds are however that I will be deployed sooner rather than later to deal with humanitarian situations following bad weather somewhere in the region of Caribbean Sea or Central America.

Before that happens, on Saturday, I am travelling for a planned deployment to Colombia. I will be staying in Bogota and the eastern town of Puerto Carreno, where I will be assessing how the national and international systems are prepared to respond to sudden onset disasters and their humanitarian consequences.

More on a personal side, here in Panama, I am considering finding a new flat. I love my present apartment very much, but there have been so many technical problems inside it that I am getting ready to look for an alternative, as I am getting tired of alterations and reparations. It seems like much of my free time is devoted to coordinating these works, and I am genuinely a bit tired of those. No final decisions are taken, but I will be looking at options this week. I will keep you updated on how things develop. Who knows, I may soon have a new place here in the city!

Summer break (or rainy season, here) break is coming! I am packing my bags, as tomorrow I am travelling to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic.

It will be my first time to the country, so not sure what to expect, but this being written, I am looking forward to explore a new country with allegedly wonderful architecture and amazing nature.

I will be in the Dominican Republic only for a week. I am then returning to Panama for a few days and prepare for my work related trip to Colombia. While in Colombia, I will be in Bogota, and the eastern part of the country, literally on the border with Venezuela. Again, Colombia, with an exception of a short trip to Bogota some time ago, will be a new experience for me. Surely, this July is treating me well by giving me opportunities to explore new place and meet new people!

I usually do not celebrate national days of any country. I feel that I belong to many places of the world for various reasons, sometimes only clear to me. A possession or lack of certain documents does not represent who I am and how I feel.

The above being written, I have to say that I have a very soft spot for celebrations of 'Canada Day'. As you can imagine, the reason for that is personal and related to Tahir. Canada, with its amazingly open policies towards refugees, was the only country that open its doors for Tahir, so that he could restart his life in a secure and safe environment.

I will always be grateful to Canadians for creating such an enabling and human oriented and passionate society. You literally save lives of people, who would otherwise not have a chance to live lives their deserve: in respect, in security, in appreciation of who they are. I salute you, Canadians! You are the best!

And here is a link to some stories, prior to Tahir's departure from Bangkok to Toronto.

Here comes a copy of my recent newsletter sent to friends via emails. Hope, you enjoy the updates:

Dearest All,
 
I hope you are all well!
 
Summer has arrived to the northern hemisphere, while it seems like some of you suffer from cold in the southern part of the world. Here in Panama and the Caribbean, we are in the middle of the rainy and hurricane season, which I actually like (perhaps not storms as such, but I like a nice, healthy downpour while it is warm). While you get out of the city, Panama looks so incredibly green these days. Last weekend I went to the mountains of El Valle de Anton, just 120 km from the capital, the experience was absolutely stunning. Pure green, dramatic hills covered with heavy and grey clouds bringing tropical rain. Loved it (here are some pictures from Panama, including the trip to El Valle de Anton: https://photos.app.goo.gl/Nbkavju8ZKRCqwKZA. I will be travelling more in this week, and then in July. Today in fact, I am off to the Caribbean coast of Panama to a place called Bocas del Toro, supposedly one of the nicest part of the country, which I do not know yet (the Panama picture album will feature pictures from there). Then, later I will go to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic. I was told it is one of the nicest cities in the region, so I wanted to take an opportunity to see it, and some other bits in the country. It is likely to rain a lot, but I actually do not mind that much. As I mentioned, I actually tend to enjoy rains. At the end of the month, if all goes according to plan, I should be travelling for work to Colombia. I will be working in Bogota and in the communities along the border with Venezuela. I will write about this some other time, though.
 
I recently went to Europe and Brazil too. When in Europe, I had a chance to spend some time with Mum and friends moving around Poland, Slovakia and Romania (https://photos.app.goo.gl/S39ph7YH3z1znEnE6; https://photos.app.goo.gl/toUh7a1vx5k2g5uHA), and was deployed for a month to support our work in Ukraine (https://photos.app.goo.gl/67HcSfZH59kc6WHr9). I had the most wonderful Easter break, and appreciating the amazing sites of Romania’s Transylvania. I expected Transylvania to be beautiful, but it surpassed my expectations. The breathtaking nature, sophisticated architecture of towns and cities, and above all very, very warm and kind people. When in Poland, I actually enjoyed the atmosphere in the country. As you know, Poland along with many other countries in Europe are now responding the challenge of hosting refugees escaping Ukraine. Wars are always tragic and bring human suffering in the way that is difficult to rationalise. However, my experience tells me that wars, when affecting you directly, bring best out of people too. This is what I saw in Poland this time. The massive mobilisation of resources, good will, ideas, personal time and energy to welcome those fleeing war. I met countless families inviting strangers to their home. I was, for example, touched by a story of the Ecuadorian/Ukrainian family fleeing the war from Kyiv. They ended up in my little home-town and are re-starting their lives in there, with help of ordinary people and local organisations, who just made things possible. Then, I was charmed by an amazing young Afghan student of the University of Warsaw, who decided to dedicate his free time to help the Ukrainians arriving to the new city. He knows too well what wars and conflicts mean to your sense of security and well-being, and as did not hesitate to give his helping hand.
 
I do not want to write too much about Ukraine. I realise that being Polish, I may have my own biases towards what you see in the country. I will just write that most of the time there, I spent in Lviv and the western part of the country. Likewise in Poland, when in Ukraine, I was overtaken by people’s solidarity, kindness and the amazing resilience. Perhaps, this story that I wrote when I was there will give you an idea of what I mean.
 
Right after Ukraine, I went to Brazil’s Recife in northeast to respond to severe flooding that hit that part of the country. I need to say that I was not prepared for the mission emotionally. What I saw in Recife demoralised me (here come the pictures from the deployment:  https://photos.app.goo.gl/cELACXoGhtoQQzYXA). The disaster of Recife just threw in your face what poverty and injustice means in pure practice. Yes, the rains were severe and dramatic, but it is only the residents of favelas (poor urban neighborhoods) that suffered. Those living in upscale parts of the city hardly noticed anything happening. Over 130 people died buried in mudslides, countless houses were destroyed. People’s lives were shattered and it happened so, I dare saying, because of indifference, racism, lack of empathy of those of us, who have power and responsibility to act. People suffered because of lack of preparedness, lack of plans, lack of vision in terms or urban and environmental planning. People suffered only because there are poor, and their voices are not considered to be worth-listening, because their rights are abused over and over again in all spheres of their lives. Brazil wore me off and challenged me more than any other recent experience. Lastly, also in Recife, I met a group of remarkable humanitarian workers (our partners), whose dedication make things slightly more bearable for the affected people, while essentially everyone else is failing them. Well done and my highest respect!
 
In other news, you should be happy to read that Tahir is now in the process of obtaining his Canadian citizenship. He is doing amazing, and now has his own little business (actually doing very well). We are already planning to meet sometime in autumn. I miss him terribly, but we talk often and appreciate the opportunities that Skype offers us 😊.
 
I hope to be able to hear news from you sometime soon! Please take care and do write, when you can!
Sending you all lots of love, Roman

Last week, we were all busy with a three days long seminar, during which, we tried looking at the humanitarian trends and challenges in Latin America, and adjust our organisations strategy for next year. Albeit, the exercise was a useful experience, it was physically difficult, as it involved long sessions of sitting. My back clearly did not like it very much and protested vividly by demanding movement and exercise. So to ease the pains, on Saturday, I decided to head to the hills of El Valle de Anton, some 120 km towards the west from Panama City.

I had a wonderful day, enjoying clouds, rains and amazingly fresh and vivid green of the tropical forest. I walked a great deal, took some photos (look towards the end of the album), and got back to the city in the evening refreshed and happy!

The week ahead of me, will be busy with closing my recent mission to Brazil, and making sure that the projects that will follow as the floods are handled administratively and ready to kick off. I am also going to be planning my mission to Colombia (hopefully, it will go ahead as planned), and my short holiday afterwards. The plan is that I will visit the country's capital, Bogota, to meet with partners and authorities to find out the level of preparedness to respond to disasters such as floods or forest fires, so that we can also do our own homework and adjust our organisation's response tools accordingly. That should be a week full of interesting brainstorming with firefighters and civil protection personnel. As I still have plenty of holidays to take, if I make it there, I will try staying an extra week to enjoy the country's touristic attraction. As I love hot springs and spas, I would like to stay around Pereira, the place famous for treatment of muscular challenges (hot water springs). I think my spine and muscles will enjoy the experience a lot. Keep your fingers crossed, so all works out nicely!

My deployment in Brazil to respond to floods its consequences around Recife has been exhausting so far; both emotionally and physically.

The destruction that the rains have caused is enormous and cost nearly 130 lives. In addition, thousands of people are displaced as they needed to flee their destroyed houses.

Perhaps what is the most significant experience during this particular emergency is lack of response from the authorities. Despite a fact that the emergency has been ongoing for nearly 10 days now, the government's support to its own citizens is nowhere to be seen.

On the other hand, it is heart-warming to observe human solidarity. Hundreds of people, even if vulnerable themselves, rush to help their neighbours by hosting them, cooking for them or offering them basic hygiene materials to survive their personal tragedies and proving that humanity goes strong among common fellow-beings!

You may have heard that northeastern part of Brazil is experiencing some devastating floods and mudslides again. The city of Recife and its surroundings are especially badly hit. The reports suggest that over 90,000 people have been displaces, thousands houses and public infrastructure are destroyed beyond repair. Most tragically nearly 100 people have been killed and many are missing.

Given the scale of the catastrophe, I am now packing my bags, and will travel to Recife to be able to determine whether we could contribute in the relief and emergency operations.

I will be leaving tomorrow, and will stay in Brazil for around 10 days.

I will try keeping you updated on the experiences from there. Until then, please stay safe!

I owe you a short update after a longer period of silence.

I have just arrived back to Panama, after a longer stay in Europe: mixture of a family visit, touristic wonders explorations and a humanitarian deployment to Ukraine
(Gallery 1: Poland, Romania and Slovakia; Gallery 2: Ukraine, Slovakia and Poland; Gallery 3: Poland and Slovakia; Story 1: a short story from Lviv).

I really enjoyed the stay in Europe, even if the emotions were mixed. Despite Ukraine being an amazingly beautiful and friendly country, no-one is comfortable in experiencing all the violence and misery that the country is going through at the moment. What I will remember from the trip is the warmth of family and friends, and thousands of ordinary people on the streets in all of the countries I visited, determined to be nice and as helpful as possible to one another. It was an incredible feeling that overwhelmed me and made me very happy.

Now, after a very long journey back, I am sitting in may flat in Panama City, and try reflecting on the war in Ukraine, which perhaps affects me a bit more personally, as it is close so close to my home; but also attempting to re-enter to my professional and personal life in the Americas. As you can imagine, I am busy in reading all the pending emails, planning my activities here in the country, and also new trips, which surely will bring some excitements and adventures and provoke new reflections.

I will keep you posted on things to come, and in the meantime, sending greetings to you all. Please stay safe, wherever you happen to be!

Lviv, Ukraine, May 2022

Ten days in Ukraine have passed: days filled with joy and worry; hope and fear; optimism and loss of it.

Lviv is considered to be a relatively safe place within Ukraine. Indeed, being far away from frontlines of Donbas, fighting in the south and east of the country, there is a sense of normality here. It is for its safety that many people fleeing the fighting elsewhere in Ukraine choose Lviv and its surroundings to be their new home - either for a short while, or perhaps, even for ever. A fact that so many people choose the city to be their shelter brings to its people a sense of mission that they provide to the rest of the country. Everyone seems really focused on helping those arriving, and as you can imagine, the needs are huge, as the newcomers often come with very little or nothing at all.

At the same time, Lviv is not spared from threats and dangers completely. It may not be close to the frontline, but missiles do fall on this city too. 10 days ago, the missile-launch killed 7 people. Then just three days ago, we experienced 5 rockets landing in vicinity of the airport. The attacks cause people's anxiety and plunge the morale a little, but amazingly, people don't give in. They worry, but they remain strong and resilient. This feeling is unbelievably heart-warming.

The air raid sirens go off three, four times daily, and as 9th May is approaching (Victory Day in Russia), the attempts of missile attacks visibly intensify across Ukraine. The sound of sirens is a nasty experience and fills us all with chills coming down our spines. But then, whenever there are evil experiences, there is usually something beautiful happening too! The other day, for example, we had a dinner just outside of the hotel, and the sirens suddenly went off again (that was actually a night of the actual attack on Lviv). As the atmosphere appeared tense, we decided to go down to a bomb shelter. Soon after, the explosions were heard at the distance and sounds of ambulances and fire engines joined in. Our shelter was situated in a cold basement of the old 17th century building, in the centre of Lviv. One could hear the drops of water falling, there was no light, but one candle. The chill was overwhelming and getting to your bones. It was spooky and uncomfortable. Then, I noticed a boy sitting next to me. Worried of is well being, and wanting to distract him a bit, I decided to chat a little, so I asked him what his name and age were. Realising that I was a foreigner, the boy brightened up immediately. He said his name was Vlad and that he was seven. He clearly took a responsibility of being a perfect host… In his mind I was a foreigner, a guest, and I needed to be looked after! All in all, a result of my attempts of cheering him up, turned out to be his opportunity looking after me and making sure I wasn't scared nor uncomfortable! The seven years old was even offering me his hand, in case I was unwell! Picture this!

It is this young boy, in the basement, that to me represents the spirit of Lviv these days. He is a wonderful personification of how people are in this besieged city and the country. Someone, who I thought was vulnerable and needed protection took a job of cheering an old humanitarian worker with years of experience of wars and conflicts, just because he was a guest to his home! I will leave you all there with this thought…

Also, I admire Ukraine and her people!

Today is my last day of holidays. I have had really good time (2 weeks) with Mum, family and friends both in Nowy Sacz, but also travelling around Poland, Slovakia, Hungary and Romania. I have managed to rest and recharge batteries and now ready to meet new challenges!

So tomorrow, I am off to Rzeszow in eastern Poland. I will be there for 2 days, and I am going to have my first briefings for my deployment in Ukraine. I will also be visiting some of logistical centres, situated in the city. They support humanitarian operations in various parts inside Ukraine.

My deployment in Ukraine will certainly be challenging and potentially emotionally charged, but I am very much looking forward to this new, however short (I should be there for around 1 month), chapter in my professional career.

I will be writing up experiences and sharing them with you whenever I can. Before that happens, stay well!

I have been busy in recent days scanning old pictures and arranging them in various albums. It has been a sentimental project.

Now, the galleries are enriched by these entries:


Various in Poland: end of 90'ies and early 2000
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (1992 - 2003)

Khartoum in 2000
🇸🇩 (2000)

My first humanitarian deployment in Afghanistan
🇦🇫 (1999)

New York in 1999
🇺🇸 (1999)

A winter visit to Finland
🇫🇮🇪🇺 (1999)

My first trip to Africa
🇦🇴 (1998)

College time in Denmark
🇩🇰🇪🇺 (1994 - 1997)

A tour around Canada
🇨🇦 (1996)

Visiting friends in Iceland
🇮🇸 (1995)

Travelling from India to Europe by bus
🇮🇳🇵🇰🇮🇷🇹🇷 (1994)

Fundraising and studying
🇩🇪🇸🇪🇪🇺 (1994)

A summer excursion to Venice
🇮🇹🇪🇺 (1994)

In the UK after finishing the high school and entering the college
🇬🇧 (1992 - 1993)

A work related visit to Hannover
🇩🇪🇪🇺 (1992)

Childhood and high school period
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (1973 - 1992)

Moreover, all albums (with already digitally taken photos) can be found at this link.

Have a look, if interested and have time!

I am packed and ready to depart for the airport. First a long flight from Panama City to Amsterdam, then a short layover, and the second leg from Amsterdam to Krakow. I should be landing at the airport in Poland tomorrow afternoon, just in time to make for dinner at home in Nowy Sacz. Really excited!

It is potentially going to be the strangest home-visit I have had in my entire life. Poland being at the centre of world's humanitarian efforts bringing lifeline to Ukrainian refugees makes things somehow a bit unreal to me. What I mean is that the place which I always considered to be a place to unwind is becoming the stage for my work responsibilities. I have never expected it in my wildest expectations, but here we go. Life brings surprises, and humility…

After some days (resting and working) in Poland, the plan is to still get deployed inside Ukraine too. It is too early to reflect on details, as the situation in the country changes like in a kaleidoscope. As time passes, I will be keeping you all updated though. For now, I am signing off and running to the airport. Europe, here I come! ;)

It is going to be an interesting month, as it seems. Both when it comes to political excitement, but also in my personal and professional life.

First of all, tomorrow we will be having elections in Hungary. From my perspective, the predictions are gloomy. The pools suggest that the present regime will win again, and as you can imagine, this does not make me happy. There is literally nothing I like about the present government rulling Hungary, and the gloom may continue for years to come. The only potentially good news (however small) is that the regime may lose its constitutional majority in the Hungarian parliament. If that happens, it will somehow limit the destruction of Hungary's democracy. Things to be followed, definitely!

Then we are heading for presidential elections in France. Needless to say, it is worrying that the far-right Le Pen is closing a gap with Macron. I am not fan of Macron, but really hoping, he will be able to defeat Le Pen at the end. I even do not dare thinking what would France and Europe look like, if the people of Le Pen took power. Grrrr… Will be watching it too.

Perhaps, the most important the political development related to invasion of Russia on Ukraine. The peace negotiations in Istanbul are not bringing results yet, and the military aggression on Ukraine continues, causing unimaginable suffering of people.

Talking of wars, I wonder what to take with the recent announcement of Saudi Arabia claiming that it would stop its war on Yemen. I am not an expert on the situation of Yemen, so do not really know how to take it, but I am wondering whether it may be good news?

Closer to where I am, sadly we see the further deterioration of the freedoms in Nicaragua. The people of this poor country seem to be more oppressed than ever. I am reading however that things are reaching its momentum, and some hope that the oppression is so bad now that it just needs to get better.

On a positive note, a new government is taking over the power. We will need to watch what happens in the country, but the signs are that the new administration will try introducing policies that are a little more friendly towards refugees. Chile, with close to 1 million Venezuelans within its borders desperately needs to reform its policies towards migrants to avoid the further deterioration of the ongoing humanitarian crisis. The task of reforms will be tough, as the parliament is not necessarily controlled by powers which are 'migrant-friendly' though. Definitely will be observing Chile.

In my private and professional life, I am now dealing with closing my mission to Argentina and Paraguay and preparing my recommendations on how we could potentially engage in work with indigenous communities in Gran Chaco. The sources of poverty there are so complex and difficult to address. I have no illusion that whatever we choose to do is not going to bring the large-scale change, however I hope that the little resources that we may have will contribute a small piece to the overall positive change.

I am now preparing to leave for Europe. In a week, I am taking my flight to Amsterdam and then to Krakow. The plan is to spend some free time with Mum and family in Nowy Sacz (or somewhere in close vicinity in Europe) over Easter. It will also be time to recharge batteries, so that I can move on to my next step: supporting our operations in Ukraine. While at this stage, I am unable to provide more details yet (specific plans are developed still), I am excited to be given a chance to lend a hand in this humanitarian operation!

On my return from a trip to South America in Casco Viejo; Panama; March 2022

I have barely returned from my trip to Argentina and Paraguay and already planning the next move.

The Russia's invasion on Ukraine continues to have grave humanitarian consequences in Ukraine and beyond. The United Nations estimates that as of today, over 10,000,000 have been displaced, and nearly 4,000,000 people have fled out of the country, which obviously puts lots of stress and expectations towards many humanitarian organisations bringing relief to all who need it.

Needless to say, my very own organisation is at the centre of this storm, and we are trying to do our best to deliver. Given the scale and scope of the needs, many of us are called to support the operations in Europe, even if we may be tasked with different responsibilities elsewhere. Many of my colleagues are now deployed between Moldavia, Romania, Hungary, Slovakia and Poland.

As it appears (to be confirmed), I may be given a chance to contribute to the response too. If all goes according to plan, I should be deployed in Poland sometime in April, and then, if/when the access opens in Ukraine itself, I may be supporting the humanitarian response in the country too. While it is still too early to confirm anything, I shall definitely keep you updated as things become clearer.

Meanwhile, I am working on compiling my reports on my visit to Paraguay and Argentina's Chaco, severely affected by droughts. My trip to the region, once again, shows the daily struggle of the indigenous people to survive… literally, fighting for access to water, food and safety. While bombs may not be falling in Chaco, people suffer silently and wonder why the world is not there listening and supporting them. The struggle is real! Let's don't forget the suffering of those, who may not be talked about in the media!

I am in Asuncion of Paraguay at the moment, where I am preparing for the mission inside the country so that I am able to understand a bit better the country's systems related to being prepared to disasters (especially related to droughts, fires and flash floods).

While I try concentrating on this, my mind is distracted to what happens in Ukraine and Europe. The invasion of Russia of Ukraine is heart breaking to say the least. All wars are horrifying and as you know, I have a direct personal experience of many. It is a first time however that an actual war is happening so close to my own home. Reports indicate that bombs are falling some 30 kms away from the border of Poland. While, Poland is still relatively safe, as it seems, the situation leaves me think of how fragile peace is and how vulnerable we all are, regardless of where we live in the world. The situation also makes me think of how unfair the world is. While the invasion of Ukraine is the most horrific, people encounter similar sufferings in many other parts of the world too, and sadly we are too little aware of this, or perhaps we choose to close our eyes to wars, which seem not to affect us directly.

I have been for a few days in Buenos Aires now, gathering information on the severity of the humanitairan situation in the northern part of the country, following the devastating fires that have been going on for some weeks. I have been doing it by talking to the authorities and NGOs based in the capital. Now, it is time to move on and visit the actual places which are affected. Today, I am flying into the Province of Corrientes (via Resitencia in Chaco Province), and then will travel to the Province of Misiones. The visit on the ground should give me a more complete picture of the needs.

I am also preparing for the second part of the mission to Paraguay, which is also believed to be severely affected. If all goes to the plan, I shall be travelling there this coming Friday, to meet with the authorities and partners in the capital of Asuncion, but also in the areas affected by the drought and fires.

While concentrating on my South America tasks, it is impossible not to follow the news in Ukraine and the neighbouring countries. As there is abundance of news and analyses of the situation in the media, I will refrain from commenting, I will just add that on a personal level, together with some friends, we are involved in evacuating and arranging accommodation for some of the families, escaping the fighting. It is all extremely charged emotionally, as you can imagine.

I will be updating you with news, as my trip progresses. Until then stay well and safe!

I have just arrived to Buenos Aires and I am preparing for travelling up north to Argentina's Gran Chaco. As you may remember, the northern part of the country (as well as south of Paraguay) are now experiencing fires. It is estimated that up to 10% of the Corrientes Province is burnt to ground, with forests, and infrastructure being destroyed. Things are so bad that Argentina decided to ask the EU to send assistance to help in getting the situation under control. If all goes according to a plan, the French firemen will arrive within some hours, and then some essential equipment from Norway will follow.

While I will be coordinating the receipt of this aid, I will also be travelling to the affected areas of Argentina and Paraguay to assess the humanitarian impact on the affected communities in both of the countries. Gran Chaco is mostly a very poor part of the Americas, where daily life is extremely difficult to its inhabitants even without challenges such as fires. Should we learn that people cannot cope without assistance, we will recommend release some additional funds to reach the communities along with the help to the Argentinian authorities.

As the mission to Gran Chaco progresses, I will be posting the photo reports too.

Meanwhile, I am observing the political situation in Europe with the greatest concern. The invasion of Ukraine by the Russian Federation, saddens and angers me. Although I have seen it a lot in my professional career, it is still difficult to accept that politicians are able to destroy lives and livelihoods (as well as sanity) of so many people so easily. Something is seriously wrong with our systems of governance on every possible level.

I guess the situation in Ukraine has an additional effect on me, as it is directly impacting my native Poland. It is estimated that just within 4 days of the invasion, over 300,000 refugees fled from Ukraine to Poland alone (and 150,000 more to Slovakia, Hungary, Slovakia and Moldova). So far, it is impressive to see how the governments and societies of these countries seem to be managing the crisis, but surely the needs are great and challenges will be mounting in weeks to come. I am actually taking a close look at how my own organisation is supporting the humanitarian efforts, and have already volunteered to be deployed either to Ukraine itself or any of the countries around, should the need for my services arise.

The fires in Gran Chaco on the areas between Paraguay, Argentina, Brazil and Bolivia have intensified recently. It is however both Paraguay and Argentina that seem to be affected the most.

In an attempt to find out a humanitarian impact of these on lives of the affected communities, I am setting off to the two countries on a humanitarian mission. On Monday, I am leaving Panama for Buenos Aires. After a few days in Argentina's north, I will then proceed to Asuncion and then southern parts of Paraguay. While in the field, I will be shown around by colleagues from our partner organisations. I will be meeting the communities, and also the authorities to see what has been done so far, and how we can be of help, if at all.

In the meanwhile, I keep receiving substantial amount of emails from various humanitarian colleagues that appear to be heading to Poland and Romania to establish their presence there to help in dealing with the influx of Ukrainian refugees. While I am unable to give advice on Romania, I do have quite a lot of information on the civil society organisations in Poland (including organisations working with migrants and refugees in particular). Should you, or your organisation need some guidance, please do not hesitate contacting me, I will be happy to help out the way I can. On a personal note, I feel so strange to see that the international humanitarian agencies are setting up potentially large scale operations in my own country. The world is certainly full of surprises.

Links to all of my picture albums available in 'Google Pictures'

Panama in 2022
🇵🇦 (2022)

Assessing the impacts of fires in northern Argentina
🇦🇷 (March 2022)

Floods in Bahia Province
🇧🇷 (Jan. 2022)

The end of the year in Argentina
🇦🇷 (Dec. 2021)

Panama in 2021
🇵🇦 (2021)

A quick visit to Brussels
🇧🇪🇳🇱🇪🇺 (Dec. 2021)

Autumn holiday in Ontario
🇨🇦 (Nov. 2021)

The refugee crisis in northern Chile
🇨🇱 (Oct. 2021)

Early autumn with Mum in the Lake District, and visiting friends in south and eastern Poland
🇵🇱🇳🇱🇪🇺 (Sep. 2021)

Summer in Portugal after a long absence
🇵🇹🇪🇺🇺🇸 (Aug. 2021)

Saint Vincent and the Grenadines: disaster in the paradise
🇻🇨 (Jul. 2021)

Only in Miami…
🇺🇸 (Jul. 2021)

Adventures of Mexico
🇲🇽 (Jun. 2021)

Manuel Antonio and Alajuela: Costa Rica's natural wonders
🇨🇷 (Apr. 2021)

The walking refugees, the city, the desert and the mountains
🇨🇱 (Mar. 2021)

Second time Argentina!
🇦🇷 (Feb. 2021)

Panama in 2020
🇵🇦 (2020)

Honduras: Eta and Iota hurricane emergency response mission
🇭🇳 (Nov. 2020)

2020 autumn break
🇩🇪🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Oct. 2020)

The post-lockdown experience in Krakow
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Sep. 2020

A weekend in Toledo and Madrid after six months lockdown
🇪🇸🇪🇺 (Sep. 2020)

The first walk
🇵🇦 (May 2020)

Argentina, a country of extreme contrasts
🇦🇷 (Feb. 2020)

Venezuela refugees' response in Brazil
🇧🇷 (Feb. 2020)

Resilient communities in Bolivia
🇧🇴 (Jan. 2020)

Quito and the Province of Bolivar
🇪🇨 (Jan. 2020)

Tahir's visit to Panama
🇵🇦 (Dec. 2019)

Panama in 2019
🇵🇦 (2019)

Costa Rica, the America's paradise
🇨🇷 (Nov. 2019)

Mystic Portugal
🇵🇹🇪🇺 (Nov. 2019)

Halloween and my 47th birthday
🇨🇦 (Nov. 2019)

Preparing for the hurricanes in the Caribbean Sea
🇨🇼 (Sep. 2019)

My first humanitarian mission in America
🇧🇴🇨🇴 (Sep. 2019)

My first week in Panama
🇵🇦 (Aug. 2019)

A bit of Los Angeles from a car
🇺🇸 (Aug. 2019)

Last moments in Poland before moving to Panama
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jul. 2019)

The epic trip around Europe
🇦🇹🇩🇪🇮🇹🇸🇮🇭🇺🇪🇺🇱🇮🇨🇭 (Jul. 2019)

Showing Tahir around Poland and Slovakia
🇸🇰🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jul. 2019)

Summer in Warsaw and Krakow
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jul. 2019)

My last day in Asia
🇸🇬 (Jul. 2019)

2019: My final year in Thailand
🇹🇭 (2019)

Good bye Manila
🇵🇭 (Jun. 2019)

A mission to Indonesia
🇮🇩 (Jun. 2019)

Working in Belgium and Austria
🇦🇹🇧🇪🇪🇺 (May 2019)

Spring in central Portugal
🇵🇹🇩🇪🇪🇺 (Apr. 2019)

Humanitarian assessments in DPR of Korea
🇰🇵 (Feb. 2019)

A short trip to the Philippines
🇵🇭 (Feb. 2019)

Northern vibes
🇵🇱🇪🇺🇺🇦🇨🇦 (Jan. 2019)

Response to humanitarian needs after the tsunami in Sunda Strait
🇮🇩 (Dec. 2018, Jan. 2019)

The last trip for 2018
🇵🇭 (Dec. 2018)

Iberia with people with one loves
🇵🇹🇪🇸🇪🇺 (Oct. 2018)

The Sulawesi & Lombok earthquake
🇮🇩 (Oct. 2018)

Visiting Tahir and friends in Toronto
🇩🇪🇪🇺🇨🇦 (Sep. 2018)

A day in Krakow with Mum
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Sep. 2018)

Going to the Pacific
🇫🇯🇹🇴🇭🇰🇨🇳 (Aug. 2018)

Ko Chang for the last time
🇹🇭 (Jun. 2018)

Race against the time
🇧🇩 (May 2018)

Learning my adopted country, Portugal
🇵🇹🇪🇺 (Apr. 2018)

An early spring in Vienna
🇦🇹🇪🇺 (Apr. 2018)

Magical Sukhothai
🇹🇭 (Mar. 2018)

Typhoon Gita: travelling to the Pacific
🇹🇴🇫🇯🇦🇺 (Feb. 2018)

Mum visiting Thailand
🇹🇭 (Jan. 2018)

Thailand A. D. 2018
🇹🇭 (2018)

Typhoon Temblin: humanitarian disaster for the people of Mindanao in southern Philippines
🇵🇭 (Dec. 2017)

Ancient Thailand in a nutshell
🇹🇭 (Dec. 2017)

Spending time with Mum
🇩🇪🇨🇿🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Dec. 2017)

The enchanting Dhaka
🇧🇩 (Nov. 2017)

Rohingya refugee camps in southern Bangladesh
🇧🇩 (Nov. 2017)

November in Sri Lanka
🇱🇰 (Nov. 2017)

Glimpses of European autumn
🇵🇹🇧🇪🇫🇮🇸🇰🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Oct. 2017)

Mongolia, 4th time in the country
🇲🇳 (Sep. 2017)

Weekends with Tahir & friends in Thailand
🇹🇭 (2017)

The war displaced in Marawi of the Philippines
🇵🇭 (Jul. 2017)

Celebrating summer's arrival in Bangkok
🇹🇭 (Jun. 2017)

Europe's visit: spring 2017
🇧🇪🇵🇱🇪🇺 (May 2017)

Settling in Portugal
🇵🇹🇪🇺 (Apr. 2017)

Cox's Bazar's camps
🇧🇩 (Mar. 2017)

Bangkok's canals
🇹🇭 (Jan. 2017)

2016 Winter break
🇵🇱🇪🇺🇷🇺🇹🇭 (Dec. 2016)

Rohingya refugees in Cox's Bazar
🇧🇩 (Dec. 2016)

Mongolia's summer
🇲🇳 (Sep. 2016)

TRIPLEX: Southern Norway & Oslo
🇳🇴 (Sep. 2016)

Sri Lanka
🇱🇰 (Aug. 2016)

Western Thailand
🇹🇭 (Jul. 2016)

Northern European experience
🇫🇮🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jun. 2016)

A weekend in Khau Yai National Park
🇹🇭 (May 2016)

Down-under
🇦🇺 (Apr. 2016)

Oceania
🇹🇱🇦🇺 (Mar. 2016)

UAE, Spain & Portugal: winter fun
🇪🇸🇵🇹🇪🇺🇦🇪 (Feb. 2016)

Mongolian winters are tough…
🇲🇳 (Jan. 2016)

Autumn of 2015
🇵🇱🇪🇸🇪🇺 (Nov. 2015)

The displaced in the Philippines
🇵🇭 (Aug. 2015)

Studying Spanish in Gran Canaria
🇪🇸🇪🇺 (Aug. 2015)

Visiting DPRK
🇰🇵 (May 2015)

May 2015 home visit
🇦🇹🇵🇱🇪🇺 (May 2015)

Spring in Seoul
🇰🇷 (Apr. 2015)

My first trip to the Philippines
🇵🇭 (Apr. 2015)

Family in Thailand
🇵🇱🇪🇺🇹🇭 (Mar. 2015)

A day in Beijing and a week in Ulaanbaatar
🇨🇳🇲🇳 (Feb. 2015)

Floods in northern Malaysia
🇲🇾 (Jan. 2015)

Discovering Thailand
🇹🇭 (Dec. 2014)

Paris: the beauty with Mum
🇫🇷🇪🇺 (Nov. 2014)

Gdansk and Sopot
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Nov. 2014)

Enjoying time with Mum
🇨🇿🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Nov. 2014)

UNDAC training
🇿🇦 (Oct. 2014)

The Warsaw Uprising
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Sep. 2014)

Visiting long missed friends
🇮🇸 (Sep. 2014)

Faroe Islands
🇫🇴 (Sep. 2014)

Spas of Galicia
🇭🇺🇸🇰🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Sep. 2014)

In the land of Cyril and Methodius
🇧🇬🇪🇺 (May 2014)

A wedding in the Eternal City
🇮🇹🇪🇺🇻🇦 (May 2014)

Flying around South Sudan
🇸🇸 (2014)

Southern New Zealand
🇳🇿 (Jan. 2014)

The green islands on fire! The northern part of the country
🇳🇿 (Jan. 2014)

Travelling to the other end of the world
🇵🇱🇪🇺🇦🇪🇦🇺 (Jan.2014)

Unity State at war
🇸🇸 (Dec. 2013)

Sandomierz & Kazimierz Dolny
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Aug. 2013)

South Sudanese refugees in Ethiopia
🇪🇹 (Jul. 2013)

A summer with friends
🇨🇦 (Jun. 2013)

'Uma marvilha: Lisboa'
🇵🇹🇪🇺 (Jun. 2013)

In Senegal for work & meeting friends in Dakar
🇸🇳 (Jun. 2013)

Playing a tourist guide around Slovakia & Poland
🇸🇰🇵🇱🇪🇺 (May 2013)

Colourful Willemstad
🇨🇼 (Jan. 2013)

A trip to the Caribbean paradise
🇧🇶🇳🇱🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jan. 2013)

Freezing in Nowy Sacz
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jan. 2013)

A stopover in Cairo
🇪🇬 (Jan. 2013)

Christmas vibes
🇸🇸 (Dec. 2012)

Visiting refugees again
🇸🇸 (Dec. 2012)

USA with Christine
🇺🇸 (Oct. 2012)

An autumn in Brussels and Amsterdam
🇧🇪🇳🇱🇪🇺 (Oct. 2012)

Indian Ocean paradise: Seychelles
🇸🇨 (2012)

Refugees in northern South Sudan
🇸🇸 (2012)

Team building
🇰🇪 (2012)

Socialising in Juba
🇸🇸 (Aug. 2012)

May is the best month of the year
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (May 2012)

Northern parts of Vietnam
🇻🇳 (May 2012)

A week in Vietnam's Hanoi
🇻🇳 (Apr. 2012)

Hong Kong & Macao with Mum
🇭🇰🇲🇴🇨🇳 (Apr. 2012)

A visit to Upper Nile State
🇸🇸 (2012)

Holidays in Mozambique
🇲🇿 (Jan. 2012)

A new home in Juba
🇸🇸 (Nov. 2011)

Visiting Sabrina and Thomas in Paris
🇫🇷🇪🇺 (Aug. 2011)

Nicki and Thomas' wedding
🇫🇷🇪🇺 (Aug. 2011)

Kosice & Presov during summertime
🇸🇰🇪🇺 (Jul. 2011)

A very sunny summer
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jul. 2011)

The Ethnographical Park of Nowy Sacz
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (2011)

The adventure in South Sudan begins
🇸🇸 (2011)

Grand Duchy of Luxembourg
🇱🇺🇪🇺 (2011)

Brussels marks the new beginnings
🇧🇪🇪🇺 (2011)

Good bye to 2010 and hello to 2011
🇰🇪 (Dec. 2010, Jan. 2011)

A week in Oxford
🇬🇧 (2010)

The desert city - Khartoum
🇸🇩 (2010)

A disaster preparedness workshop in Maputo
🇲🇿 (2010)

Adventures in East Africa
🇺🇬🇨🇩🇷🇼 (2010, 2011)

The Kenyan kaleidoscope
🇰🇪 (2010)

A new apartment in Nairobi
🇰🇪 (2010)

Walking the streets of old Yangon
🇲🇲 (2010)

Chills of Bangkok
🇹🇭 (2010)

The Shewdagon Pagoda
🇲🇲 (2010)

Visiting Oxfam's regional office
🇹🇭 (2010)

November in Poland
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Nov. 2010)

Impressions of Warsaw
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (2010)

A long weekend in Spain
🇪🇸🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Apr. 2010)

Arriving to Myanmar
🇲🇲 (2009)

Krakow, Europe's stunning beauty
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (2009)

A day in the Tatras
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Aug. 2009)

Time at home in Poland and Slovakia
🇵🇱🇸🇰🇪🇺 (Jul. 2009)

Berlin, my favourite city
🇩🇪🇪🇺 (2009)

Visiting friends in Germany
🇩🇪🇪🇺 (2009)

Socialising with colleagues
🇵🇰 (2009)

Islamabad, Pakistan's capital city
🇵🇰 (2009)

A mission to Chad's Sahara
🇹🇩 (2009)

An early spring day in Warsaw
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (2009)

Jewels of Somali Region of Ethiopia
🇪🇹 (2009)

Warsaw, Poland's capital
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Apr. 2009)

Moving to Addis Ababa
🇪🇹 (Jan. 2009)

Winter break at home, with friends
🇸🇰🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Jan. 2009)

New Year's Eve 2008/2009 celebrations
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (Dec. 2008)

Christmas with family
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (2008)

Visiting my teacher, Jean
🇺🇸 (2008)

Inspirational Kolkata
🇮🇳 (2007)

Bangladesh, my love
🇧🇩 (2007)

Beautiful Queensland
🇦🇺 (Feb. 2007)

Visiting Asia's hotspot, Singapore
🇸🇬 (Jan. 2007)

A day in Kuala Lumpur
🇲🇾 (2006)

Working in, and exploring Indonesia
🇮🇩 (2005 - 2006)

Humanitarian response to the earthquake
🇵🇰 (May 2006)

A visit to David and his family
🇬🇧 (2006)

Przemysl, the beauty of eastern Poland
🇵🇱🇪🇺 (2006)

Travelling to the southmost part of Africa
🇿🇦 (2005)

Ile de France with ACF colleagues
🇫🇷🇪🇺 (2004)

A visit to Rio de Janeiro
🇧🇷 (Sep. 2004)

The Angolan coast
🇦🇴 (Apr. 2004)

The Big Apple
🇺🇸 (Apr. 2004)

Namibia
🇳🇦 (Jan. 2003)