I went alone for a trip around the world. One cold winters morning I stood on the national airport in Norway, butterflies in my stomach. 4 months of travelling was ahead of me. I got onto the airplane and I was on my way to Caracas in Venezuela. As the big 747 thundered across the sunburnt landscape outside the Simon Bolivar airport, I knew that I was starting the journey of a lifetime. And I was correct. My round-the-world trip became a South American trip for 3 months as I started to realize that I did not have enough money and time to do a RTW-trip.

Three months later, I sat on the airplane taxing out from the national airport in Quito, Equador. I was tired of travelling, but most of all, I was packed with impressions, happy memories of places visited, people met and a continent full of culture and natural beauty. Although I was tired, I was happy. And I sat there with a big lump in my throat. "Goodbye, and thanks for everything!", I whispered as the airplane lifted into the air and Quito dissapeared in the morning mist behind us, determined to come back. And I did. Twice the next two years. It wasn't the same. But the memories of those three months will live on in my mind forever.