Almost a ‘caramel doguinho.‘

If you’re Brazilian, you know exactly what that means.

A caramel doguinho is a street dog of unknown origin. Affectionate, resilient and impossible to categorise.

You look at it and wonder where it came from, what it survived, and how it’s still standing with its tail wagging. That metaphor fits me uncomfortably well.

I come from many ethnicities, stories, and contradictions.

On paper, diversity sounds poetic. In real life, it can feel isolating, like never fully belonging anywhere, or like constantly negotiating who you are allowed to be.

I grew up in the hood. Not the romanticised version, but the real one, where survival teaches you things no book ever will.

Because of my background, my body learned fear before it learned safety. I had to hit rock bottom to understand what truly mattered and which direction I wanted my life to take.

At one point, I didn’t want to stay alive anymore.

Somehow, I did. And surviving forced me to confront something uncomfortable: beneath despair, fear, and depression lay a deep, stubborn love for humanity and the planet.

I couldn’t unsee it. I couldn’t ignore it.
So I made a promise: to stop merely surviving and start living with intention.

That’s when travel entered my life, not as escapism, but as medicine.

Travel taught me who I am when no one is watching. It stripped me of labels and forced me to listen, observe, and sit with discomfort. To learn from people whose realities are far from my own. So, I fell in love with perspective.

Over time, my path led me to Indigenous territories in Brazil, including the Xingu. I went there to learn (not to save and not to lead).

What I found was beauty, resilience, and unbearable injustice. Communities protecting forests that sustain the planet while lacking clean water, healthcare, education, and safety.

I left dehydrated, heartbroken, and changed.

Since then, my life has intertwined with sustainable, community-based tourism and Indigenous collaboration. I’ve helped promote their initiatives, support the circulation of their art, build ethical visibility, and (constantly!) learn how to show up without reproducing colonial harm.

This blog exists because I no longer believe in glamorous, Instagrammable travel disconnected from reality. The world is burning. People are hurting. We don’t get to travel without asking what it costs and who pays the price.

Here, I write about travel as transformation, not consumption.

About spirituality without dogma. About healing without pretending it’s linear, about moving through the world with curiosity, humility, and responsibility.

I don’t have all the answers, and I’m still figuring things out.

But if you’re a little lost too, if you come from the margins, if you question the narratives you’ve been sold, if you believe travel can be an act of care rather than extraction, then maybe we’re not that different after all.

Welcome. 💛