The next morning began with yoga in a shaman’s home – gong baths, breathwork, jungle sounds – to align our energy before the real adventure began. The following day, we joined a community reforestation project, planting saplings in a reserve supported by Leap. It was grounding, sweaty and satisfying.

Another day, we worked with a local women’s cooperative, making leather purses, bottling preserves and patching a leaking roof. These weren’t token gestures. They were genuine exchanges – skill for skill, woman to woman.

And somewhere in the doing, something shifted. No one cared what I did for a living or how put together I looked. I wasn’t someone’s mother, wife or boss. I was just Anastasia. Present, useful, connected. And that was enough.

The women I travelled with each one had a story. Some raw, some still unfolding. At the end of each day, boots off and wine poured, we shared. We talked about midlife invisibility, about ageing bodies, about starting over. We laughed, we cried. And in that circle, we found space to be ourselves.

From Barichara, we travelled north to Santa Marta and hiked into Tayrona National Park. Covered in sweat and mosquito bites but brimming with euphoria, I caught my reflection in a cracked jungle mirror. I looked real, alive, and I thought: “She’s still in there”. Later, we floated by canoe down a jungle river, then landed on the white sands of Buritaca Beach, where hammocks swung and cocktails waited. Our final stop was Cartagena, a vibrant, historic city full of colour, rhythm, and Afro-Caribbean flair. We wandered markets, danced in courtyards and dined under soft lighting. It was the perfect full-circle moment.