A year ago, I spent a glorious day of solitude in the Caribbean town of Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica. I was nearing the end of my time in Costa Rica, and after spending so much of my time traveling with new incredible friends, I was now soaking up my last bit of Costa Rica on my own. As suggested by fellow travel blogger, Camille, I rented a bike and rode the 45 minutes down to the less crowded Punta Uva beach, where I could find some peace and quiet. As the sun slowly made its decent, I decided it was time to head back to my hostel. But first, I had to make a stop at Amy’s Organic Ice Cream, which I had spied along the way. As I joyously took each bite of banana and coconut ice cream, the sun continued to hide its light. I returned to my bike in darkness. There were a limited number of light posts along the windy road back, and there was no headlight on my bike.

Thinking I was relatively close to my hostel, I wasn’t too worried. But I was wrong. Fifteen minutes turned into twenty-five to thirty. I cautiously rode my bike in and out of patches of light from the spread-out street lights. Once I left one, I could just make out another light in the distance, my only sense of direction in the blackness.

At one point, I noticed a gulf of black ahead of me. I was riding right into it, completely blind to my surroundings. As I entered this black hole, I understood what it meant to be covered in complete darkness. I couldn’t see my hands in front of me. I had no idea if the road was curving or pointing straight, if I was about to ride over an edge, if I was going to run over something in the road such as a rock or animal (it was Costa Rica after all). I was so scared losing my sense of sight, my sense of where I was going. I was completely at the the mercy of the universe. While my heart raced in my chest, I told myself it was ok, to just keep going. I knew at this moment the universe was speaking to me to trust. To not let fear take over. My only source of light came in the form of my dying phone, so if I fell over I was going to have to find my way in the black world. I was utterly vulnerable. But remember what Camille had told me? Vulnerability was good. It was good for the soul. So alone, tired, vulnerable, I rode on.

I can’t say how long I rode in the darkness. It could’ve only been two minutes, a minute, thirty seconds. To me it felt like an eternity. But, at last, I saw a light in the distance and I was ok again. The fear and darkness was now behind me.

During this night in Costa Rica, fear became something real, something I could taste on my tongue. I learned that fear was something that was inevitable, lying in front of you, blocking the path. But you can’t let that fear stop you. Sometimes there is no other way to go except for moving forward. You have to simply pedal straight into it and hope to find the light at the end of the tunnel. You let the worst pass by and then it’s done. And you realize that you’re ok.

Fast forward to almost a year after Costa Rica. After less than a week of job searching, hoping to find a teaching gig in South America or Asia and finally pursue my dream of living and working abroad, I’m contacted by a friend of my mentor, asking if I’m interested in filling in for a sudden opening as a second grade homeroom teacher in Colombia. In less than 24 hours, I have an interview with the director of the school, followed by an immediate job offer. I’m way under-qualified for the job, only having minimal experience as a ESL teacher. I have no credential for teaching elementary, no experience in a full classroom, no experience teaching multiple subjects like math, social studies, science and language arts. And the biggest factor in this is that they desperately need me – within five days.

There are so many fears that should make me say no: my inexperience, the short notice, the fact that I would be living in a foreign country I’ve never visited, the fact that it would be in the middle of the school year, the fact that I would have to suddenly say goodbye to people I care about. But I push aside the fear and decide that it was something I would have to ride straight into blindly, until I find that light at the other side that tells me that I made it and that I’m ok. I decided to embrace the unknown and face this challenge that was put in front of me.

So I said yes to the job offer. And within five days I moved to Colombia.