Insight the Ecuadorian Amazon

These little planes don’t have the best reputation in the Amazon, since unfortunately a number of them have crashed. I still remember the exact date — it was the World Cup final between France and Croatia on July 15th, 2018.

The charter cost about USD 250, and initially someone from the Ministry of Agriculture asked if they could catch a ride with us. I agreed, since I wanted to take the opportunity to see a different village — and off we went. After buying food supplies for three months (like canned tuna, rice, noodles, coffee, cigarettes, and one bottle of rum), we loaded the plane around 2 p.m. I was a bit concerned since it was already late, but once again, I trusted the process.

As soon as the plane took off, I was amazed by the sheer number of trees in the Amazon. I had never seen such a sight before, and it also intimidated me a bit. I remember thinking, “Dear God, if we crash, please take me immediately with you — don’t make me survive alone in this jungle.” After flying deeper inside, I admit I had a small anxiety attack, because I had never imagined just how far in we would go.

When the pilot dropped me off in Sharamenza, he asked, “Are you sure about what you’re doing? Don’t you want to fly back with me?” Even though I questioned my decision for a moment, I said no and got out of the plane. I greeted the many children there and quickly realized that no one from the other village was waiting for me — and it was already around 5 p.m. I could see the sun beginning to set.

The village chief, who barely spoke Spanish, offered me a place to sleep. I didn’t feel comfortable staying and hoped the people in my final destination, Suwa, were expecting me. So I asked how much they would charge for a trip to Suwa. First they said 10 USD, then 20 USD. I accepted.

Without a life vest or any safety equipment, I took a canoe with one villager and traveled for about two hours down the Pastaza River. I wasn’t afraid. Deep inside, I knew everything would be alright. I think in moments like that, you only have one choice: to focus on the good or the bad. I played Coldplay, relied on my swimming skills and my Swiss Army knife, and trusted the process.

Soon it became night. Seeing the stars — and Mars for the first time — I felt overwhelmed with gratitude. I remember thinking that if I were to die then, I had at least seen something unimaginably beautiful. The Pastaza is no small river — it is wide, powerful, and eventually flows into the Amazon River in Peru. It was one of the most magical moments of my life (until the birth of my sons).

How did I end up here? I felt proud of myself for stepping outside the system and following my heart. The only money I had in my bank account was exactly what I carried with me — 200 USD — meant to cover my return flight and bus back to Quito three months later.

The Achuares:

The Achuar are an Indigenous people of the Amazon rainforest who live in southeastern Ecuador and northern Peru, mainly in the provinces of Pastaza and Morona Santiago. They belong to the Jivaroan linguistic family and are closely related to the Shuar people, but maintain their own distinct identity, traditions, and territory.

Achuar communities traditionally live in small, dispersed settlements along rivers and forest areas, with a strong spiritual and practical relationship to nature. The rainforest is not only their home but also their pharmacy, food source, and sacred space. Knowledge of plants, animals, and natural cycles plays a central role in daily life. Jaguars, for example, are considered spiritually significant beings within Achuar cosmology.

Their culture emphasizes community responsibility, oral knowledge, dream guidance, and respect for the living forest. Today, many Achuar communities are active in protecting their territories from deforestation and extractive industries, while also working selectively with education, intercultural projects, and sustainable development initiatives.

As I reached the village, I was greeted by a large group of children, a ton of dogs, and the village chief. No one had expected me, and they didn’t know they were supposed to pick me up :D But it was fine, I said — I’m here.

I was also greeted by the other volunteer, Travis. I can’t deny that I was happy to see another Western person there beside me. It was all so deep inside and so vast — completely different from Laos. I truly felt like a needle in the middle of nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Somehow, I felt that having another Western person by my side would increase my chances of handling the experience better. 

Travis and I had to gather dried leaves and wood every day for the fire we used to cook — for coffee, lunch, and dinner. I laughed internally because I hadn’t even thought about how I would prepare food in Suwa when I brought my three-month food supply. Cooking on an open fire wasn’t easy, especially under a hut roof that leaked when it rained.

There were times when we couldn’t get the fire started, or when everything was too wet to keep it going. Other times we spotted enormous tarantulas above us in the outdoor kitchen. And sometimes we sat there together after our Ayahuasca ceremony. So much of our daily life revolved around that open fire and that kitchen space.

My ability to start a fire from almost anything, anywhere, is thanks to this magical person called Nupir. She was always by my side and showed me things that often felt difficult at first — how to build a fire, how to use a machete properly, how to wash clothes by hitting them against stones in the river, and so many other life lessons.

The kids in the Amazon are wild and free. I quickly realized that putting them inside a classroom all day would not lead anywhere. On my first day, they threw scissors at each other, pulled their classmates’ hair, smacked other kids’ faces against the table, and threw all sorts of things in my direction. One day I understood that this couldn’t continue like that, so I started taking the classes outside.

That’s when everything began to flow and bloom. I taught them the names of plants and trees in English, and they taught me about their properties and uses. I was definitely the one who learned the most — even how to fish using plants placed into a river stream.

Nupir was my ally in all these adventures — my best teacher and also my best student.

Even though this picture has a filter on it, I understood inmediately where Avatar got it´s inspiration from

River crossings… In this picture I look relaxed, but in reality I wasn’t. I had to crawl over this fallen tree and didn’t dare walk across it because the drop was about three meters if I fell.

Don´t sleep, there are Jaguars:

I don’t want to discuss this picture publicly and prefer to answer personal questions to explain its context. What I can say is that it is a real jaguar, and jaguars are sacred animals in the Achuar worldview.

Out of respect and for the safety of the children, I won’t include clear pictures of them on this platform. The children were my greatest teachers and my safety net, and I was always astonished by their physical capacity to run, swim, hunt, fish, and move through the Amazonian terrain.

Unfortunately, I also witnessed the disappearance (what seemed like an abduction) of a 9-month-old baby, as well as the death of a 6-month-old due to what appeared to be malaria. The disappearance of the 9-month-old was a complete mystery, and I wasn’t sure whether to believe the stories that were told to me. Villagers often spoke about the “gringo” — described as a being or person who lurks in the forest, sometimes emerging from the water and taking children.

To this day, I wonder whether this referred to real child trafficking or a spirit of the forest. What I do know is that I stood beside grieving parents whose baby never reappeared.

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