Los Palos Grandes, Caracas, Venezuela, June 2026

There are moments that remind us how fragile our routines really are.

Only a few days ago, Venezuela experienced one of the strongest earthquakes in its recent history. In a matter of seconds, homes collapsed, entire communities were shaken, and thousands of families suddenly found themselves facing uncertainty. Lives were lost. Many others changed forever.

Working in the humanitarian sector means that events like these are never simply headlines.

Very quickly, days became filled with coordination meetings, situation reports, assessments, phone calls, and countless conversations with humanitarian partners. Information evolved by the hour. New needs emerged. Priorities shifted constantly. Decisions had to be taken quickly, often with incomplete information. It has been an intense, demanding, and emotionally draining period.

Yet, looking back over these days, I realise that what will remain with me are not the statistics.

I will remember the people.

The families who, despite unimaginable loss, welcomed those coming to help with remarkable dignity.

The neighbours who became first responders long before organised assistance arrived.

The volunteers who simply stepped forward because someone needed them.

The firefighters, Civil Protection teams, doctors, nurses, engineers, police officers, military personnel, municipal workers, and countless others who have worked day and night under extremely difficult conditions. Many have barely stopped since the earth first began to shake. Their professionalism, determination, and courage deserve the greatest respect.

What has perhaps moved me most has been seeing how many ordinary Venezuelans simply took responsibility into their own hands.

One example is my dear friend Giovanni. As the emergency unfolded, he volunteered to serve on an ambulance, spending long hours transporting injured people and supporting emergency medical teams. Nobody asked him to do it. He simply felt that, at a moment like this, he could help.

There are undoubtedly thousands of similar stories across the country. People donating blood. Preparing meals for rescue workers. Opening their homes to neighbours. Clearing debris. Comforting complete strangers. Quiet acts of kindness that rarely appear in newspapers or television reports.

And yet, they are perhaps among the most extraordinary parts of this response.

I also want to pay tribute to the humanitarian community. Venezuelan organisations, local volunteers, the Red Cross Movement, United Nations agencies, international NGOs, faith-based organisations, and many others mobilised rapidly, each contributing in different ways but united by a common purpose: helping people survive, recover, and begin rebuilding their lives.

International solidarity has been equally inspiring.

Specialised rescue teams travelled from neighbouring countries and from much further away, bringing expertise, equipment, and experience. Among them were European teams working side by side with Venezuelan responders, demonstrating once again that humanitarian solidarity knows no borders.

Just before sitting down to write these reflections, I read the news that a child had been rescued alive from beneath the rubble by a Spanish urban search and rescue team more than seventy-two hours after the earthquake.

Seventy-two hours.

For anyone involved in emergency response, those numbers carry enormous significance. They remind us why rescue teams continue searching long after many have begun to lose hope. Every hour matters. Every voice heard beneath collapsed concrete matters. Every life saved is extraordinary.

Reading that news filled me with immense admiration—for the rescuers who refused to give up, and for the extraordinary resilience of a child who kept fighting to survive.

Throughout my humanitarian career, I have often thought that disasters reveal two realities at exactly the same time.

They reveal how vulnerable we are.

But they also reveal how extraordinary people can be.

This earthquake has arrived during my final weeks in Venezuela. Soon, I will leave for my next assignment, carrying with me memories of this beautiful and complex country. I could never have imagined that one of my final experiences here would be witnessing such a tragic event, while at the same time seeing such an extraordinary demonstration of solidarity.

Venezuela has taught me many lessons over the years.

Resilience is certainly one of them.

To my Venezuelan friends, colleagues, neighbours, and above all to the families directly affected by this tragedy: you remain very much in my thoughts.

The road to recovery will be long.

Buildings will be rebuilt. Roads repaired. Schools reopened. Services restored.

The invisible wounds will take longer to heal.

But if these past days have shown anything, it is that compassion spreads just as quickly as despair. That solidarity is stronger than fear. And that, even in humanity’s darkest moments, there are always people willing to dedicate their strength, their knowledge, and sometimes even risk their own lives for someone they have never met.

For me, that is what this earthquake will always represent.

Not only the power of nature.

But the even greater power of humanity.

Approaching the Airport of Maiquetia, Caracas, Venezuela, February 2026

I am writing this once again from Caracas.

After several weeks spent between Europe, Canada, Morocco, and back again across the Atlantic, I have returned to Venezuela. The familiar mountains are still there, embracing the city as they always have. The tropical air feels different after the cooler days of Europe and Canada, yet there is also something reassuring about being back.

This return, however, feels different from previous ones.

I am here for only three more weeks.

Three weeks to complete pending work, finalise ongoing processes, prepare the handover to my successor, and slowly begin saying goodbye to a country that has been an important part of my life for several years.

It is a strange feeling.

Part of me is already looking toward Ethiopia and the next chapter in Addis Ababa. Another part remains firmly rooted here, in the people, places, and routines that have become familiar over time. Venezuela has challenged me, surprised me, frustrated me, inspired me, and above all introduced me to extraordinary people. Leaving will not be easy.

Looking back, the past several weeks seem almost unreal in their intensity and variety.

The journey began with a return to Poland after many months in Venezuela. After landing from Caracas, with a brief stop in Lisbon along the way, there were a few precious days to slow down, spend time with family, and prepare for the next stage of the adventure. It was a period of transition — neither fully arrived nor yet departed — marked by familiar places, family conversations, and the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Those first days are captured in:

Between Departures
https://photos.app.goo.gl/4kXSnG97V8BC9XYx8

From Poland, Mum and I travelled to Canada to visit Tahir, Amna, and little Hania. Together we explored Toronto, Prince Edward County, Picton, and parts of Ontario beyond the usual tourist routes. It was a journey filled with family, friendship, nature, and the simple pleasure of spending unhurried time together.

Meeting Hania for the first time was particularly special. Watching Tahir and Amna in this new chapter of their lives brought a great deal of joy. We spent our days exploring lakeshores, vineyards, small towns, and country roads, enjoying long conversations and the kind of relaxed rhythm that is increasingly rare in everyday life.

The gallery can be found here:

Across Ontario and Beyond
https://photos.app.goo.gl/8AdiTYn5QsMQReDE9

Returning from Canada, we spent a day in Warsaw before setting off on our next adventure. Spring had fully arrived by then, and the city seemed filled with light. The Vistula flowed quietly through the capital, parks were turning green again, and there was a sense of renewal in the air before the next flight south.

Those moments are reflected in:

Spring Light Over the Vistula
https://photos.app.goo.gl/7m7NepFWHSvFPNqm8

Then came Morocco.

For a week, Mum and I explored a country that was entirely new to both of us. Based in Agadir, we discovered the Atlantic coast, wandered through the historic streets of Essaouira, experienced the colours and energy of Marrakech, and enjoyed countless smaller moments that make travel memorable. Morocco impressed us with its contrasts: ocean and desert, tradition and modernity, tranquillity and movement.

More than anything, I enjoyed sharing those discoveries with Mum. Travelling together always creates memories that remain long after the journey itself has ended.

That chapter is documented in:

Beyond the Atlas, Beside the Sea
https://photos.app.goo.gl/hvsSofUJ3bRjXR3KA

After Morocco, there was one final period of movement before returning to Venezuela.

Back in Poland, life slowed down for a little while. There was time to enjoy Nowy Sącz, catch up on small everyday matters, and simply appreciate being home. One particularly pleasant day was spent with Mum across the border in Slovakia. We travelled to Tatranská Lomnica, where the High Tatras rose above us in all their beauty. The weather was magnificent, the mountains even more so, and for a few hours there was nothing to do except walk, admire the scenery, and enjoy being together.

Another memorable moment came closer to home. One evening, Mum and I drove to nearby Krynica-Zdrój for dinner. As we sat together enjoying the atmosphere of the town and a leisurely meal, I was reminded how precious such simple moments can be. Much of my life unfolds across airports, humanitarian missions, and distant countries. Sharing an unhurried evening with Mum in the hills of southern Poland felt like a gift.

Soon afterwards, duty called again and I travelled to Brussels.

Yet even there, the journey still held one more highlight.

Leo, a close Venezuelan friend who has been building a new life in Spain over the past two years, travelled from Madrid to spend an extended weekend with me. Together we explored Brussels, Luxembourg, and Amsterdam — three cities, three countries, and countless kilometres on foot.

What made those days special was not simply the destinations, but the opportunity to experience them through Leo’s eyes. It was his first visit to all three cities. Watching his excitement as we wandered through the Grand Place in Brussels, crossed the canals of Amsterdam, and admired the elegance of Luxembourg was a reminder of how extraordinary travel can feel when everything is new.

Perhaps because I have travelled so much over the years, I occasionally take certain experiences for granted. Seeing Leo’s genuine curiosity and enthusiasm brought back some of that original sense of wonder. We travelled by train through the heart of the Benelux countries, admired landscapes rolling past the windows, discovered new streets together, and shared countless conversations about life, plans, and dreams.

Those few days became one of the highlights of the entire journey. Not because of monuments or famous landmarks, but because travel is ultimately about people. Places become memorable because of those with whom we experience them.

The final gallery of this period can be found here:

Between Home and Duty
https://photos.app.goo.gl/Pt5AQc79VPhwpEVr9

Taken together, these five galleries tell the story of several remarkable weeks spent moving between continents, friendships, family reunions, professional responsibilities, and new discoveries. Looking through them now, they already feel like chapters of a journey that passed far too quickly.

For now, however, my attention returns to Venezuela.

There are still meetings to attend, projects to follow, reports to complete, and goodbyes yet to be said. Three weeks is not a long time, but it is enough to close a chapter properly.

And then, before long, another chapter begins.

Addis Ababa awaits.

My Mother's House, Nowy Sącz, Poland, June 2026

I am writing this from Nowy Sącz.

After several weeks on the road, Mum and I are finally back home. The suitcases have been unpacked, at least temporarily, and for the first time in quite a while there is a sense of stillness around me. Familiar streets, familiar views, familiar routines. It feels good to pause for a moment before the next chapter begins.

And yet, despite being back, part of me is still travelling.

I often find myself returning to the photographs from the past few weeks. Looking through them has become a way of revisiting places that already feel slightly unreal, as good journeys often do once they become memories.

The first part of the journey took us to Canada, where we visited Tahir, Amna, and little Hania. We spent time in Toronto and then travelled together to Prince Edward County, staying near Picton. It was a wonderful week of family, friendship, nature, and long conversations. There was something deeply comforting about the lakes, small towns, vineyards, and quiet roads of Ontario. Perhaps even more special was finally meeting Hania in person and seeing Tahir and Amna in this new and happy stage of their lives.

If you would like to follow that part of the journey, you can find the photo album here:

https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/9daadf793c461f47fcb00edbfed18df1-177.html

From Canada, Mum and I continued south to Morocco.

It was our first visit to the country and one that left a strong impression on both of us. We stayed in Agadir, explored the Atlantic coast, wandered through the streets of Essaouira, and spent a memorable day in Marrakech. The colours, sounds, architecture, food, and atmosphere felt very different from anywhere either of us had visited before. Morocco struck me as a place where Africa, Europe, and the Arab world meet in fascinating ways.

The photo report from Morocco can be found here:

https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/16cdb29023eba99dcd0b9894615d839a-179.html

Before all that, there was also the short but meaningful stop in Warsaw and the beginning of our journey together. Looking back now, it feels like the first page of a much longer story.

That gallery is available here:

https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/c94eb2d0b34fadf1d0b14e0c65dc29e4-176.html

The timing of our return is interesting.

On Friday, I leave for Brussels for a week of meetings and preparations connected to my future responsibilities in Addis Ababa. After that, I will return to Venezuela for what will likely be my final three weeks there.

Three weeks.

Writing those words still feels slightly strange.

For years, Venezuela has been the centre of my professional life. It has given me challenges, lessons, friendships, frustrations, and countless memories. Returning there now, knowing that the end of this chapter is approaching, will undoubtedly feel different.

Then, later in July, I will return to Poland once more, this time accompanied by my Venezuelan friend Giovanni. After that, preparations for Ethiopia will begin in earnest.

Addis Ababa still feels more like a direction than a reality.

I find myself reading about the city, looking at maps, and imagining what daily life might look like there. Experience has taught me that no amount of preparation truly reveals a place. Every country unfolds gradually, through conversations, routines, unexpected encounters, and small discoveries.

For now, however, I am grateful for this pause.

A few quiet days with Mum in Nowy Sącz. Time to drink coffee slowly, sort photographs, and reflect on how quickly one chapter seems to flow into the next.

Life feels particularly full of movement these days.

But perhaps that is precisely why moments of stillness matter.

Soon enough, the road will call again.

And I will answer.