After the first few days at the office, I was ready for a break. Little did I know, I would be heading up the mountain on a long and bumpy ride, past the fog, into a hidden and misty community. There were no real roads; however, the view was worth the bumpy ride.
After lunch we hiked 200 meters up the mountain to the lookout point. I thought that was going to be the hardest part of this weekend trip, but the hardest part was grasping that the people on these mountains live in such impoverished conditions. Their sole income comes from selling coffee beans, tourism, and selling small merchandise like baskets woven with pine needles. We had the opportunity to learn how they weave these baskets, but while weaving, a large rainstorm hit the small building we were all in. There was no electricity, and there were about 25-30 of us in there. Our only source of light came from the phones of our tour guides. Though it was tough weaving in minimal lighting, the people looked happy and proud. The children were very open and engaging as we all waited for the rain to stop.
As we had dinner that night, the sun began to set. Without the light of the sun, I was able to sit back and take in everything that happened on this day. In all my life, I’ve never had to worry about trekking down a mountain to get home, but this night, I did just that. Not too long ago, my own family lived the same way, right before I was born. This experience has allowed me to understand how fortunate my own life has been.
