Changes are coming!

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.

Back to the Country: Chacao, Caracas, Venezuela, February 2026

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.

Around my hotel, Panama City, Panama, February 2026

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!