Every intimate story holds two truths.

Find the his perspective at the end.

A Stranger At Breakfast

I woke up that morning in my hotel room, and for the first time in weeks, I felt off. There was an inexplicable heaviness in my chest, a quiet frustration I couldn’t quite name. I was tired — tired of traveling alone, tired of filming myself for content, tired of waking up in yet another unfamiliar place. I wanted someone else behind the camera for once. I needed a change, though I wasn't sure what kind.

I decided to go for breakfast, wandering the streets aimlessly until I stumbled upon a small café. Something about the atmosphere soothed me—the open-air setting, the slow-moving morning, the way people seemed to linger over their meals instead of rushing off. It reminded me of Bali. I took my time choosing a seat, debating between joining a group of lively travelers or sitting at a quieter round table where an elderly man was finishing his meal. I chose solitude.

As I studied the menu, I realized I wasn’t in the mood for my usual light breakfast. Instead, I ordered something I rarely ate —a heavy, greasy plate of bacon and eggs, almost as if my body craved something grounding. As I waited, I let myself observe the café’s rhythm, the ebb and flow of people, the effortless way life unfolded here. Until then, it had felt like just another party town, but now I could see glimpses of something more familiar – women in yoga wear, a hint of the wellness culture I knew from Bali. A touch of nostalgia washed over me.

The elderly man finished his meal and left. In his place came this guy – F. I barely noticed him at first, just registered his presence as another traveler. His energy seemed not focused and I was more interested in watching an attractive men at another table who had caught my attention earlier. I vaguely heard F order something with salmon. Interesting choice, I thought absently.

At some point, he pulled out his laptop, and I noticed his Apple Watch and iPhone. Okay, an IT guy, I thought. Maybe he worked in tech, maybe something related to startups — just a passing assumption, but it stayed in my mind.

I could feel him wanting to start a conversation, but I wasn't sure I wanted to engage. Given my mood, I didn't know if I had the energy to share with anyone. When he asked about borrowing a pillow, I responded mechanically – sure, take it – probably not the warmest welcome. Moments later, as I neared the last few bites of my meal, he spoke again. “How’s your food? Is it making you happy?” His voice was light, almost teasing. It caught me off guard. I wasn’t sure how to respond.

But then something shifted. We discovered we shared a language – Russian. Looking back, I think this was the key moment. If we'd spoken in English, the conversation might have stayed surface-level. Instead, it opened up into something deeper, though not without my reservations.

When he started talking about spirituality and his explorations of different systems, I felt that familiar internal distance I get with men who are deeply into spirituality. In my experience, when men are too focused on the spiritual realm, they often lose touch with the material world. It's not that I don't value spirituality – I do – but I've learned to be cautious. I had pegged him as a tech guy, but now he was talking about spirituality. A contradiction? Or just another layer?

After breakfast, we parted ways. I didn’t think much of it. He was an interesting person, but I wasn’t particularly drawn to him in a romantic sense. We spoke the same language—literally and figuratively—but I didn’t see it going beyond a conversation. We exchanged contacts, and I moved on with my day, diving into my plans—surfing, yoga, a busy schedule of activities that kept my mind occupied.

Sunset, Hypnosis & the Unexpected Invitation

Later, at sunset, we met again on the beach. It wasn’t something I had particularly planned for, but when he texted, I figured why not. I had expected to say hello and head home, but the conversation unexpectedly shifted. He asked about hypnosis, and I found myself guiding him through a light hypnotherapy session, leading him through a visualization as the waves crashed behind us.

My head started hurting later – something that rarely happens to me. I wondered if it was from the connection with this new person, or just the intensity of the day. When he walked me back to my hotel, his genuine amazement at the Moroccan-style boutique design surprised me. I found myself thinking about how to politely end the evening – I had work to do, content to create, plans to make.

But the universe, or perhaps F, had other plans. Looking back now, I don’t even remember how the conversation about Mazunte started. I think I mentioned it as a nice place to visit, and somehow, the idea of going together was casually thrown into the air. It wasn’t a definite plan, just a thought. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet.

I remember lying in bed that night, wondering if I was crazy to even consider traveling with a man I'd just met. What would my girlfriends say? It went against everything in my cultural upbringing. Yet something about the situation felt different – it wasn’t attraction—not in the way I usually experience it. It was more like two free souls with open schedules crossing paths at the right moment.

That first day, there was no great attraction, no thunderbolt moment. Just a series of small decisions, each one leading to the next, like stepping stones appearing one by one across a river. I didn't know then that I was taking the first steps of a 12-day journey so deep that we will decide to write a book about it. The next day - was one of the most beautiful and eventful days of our lives.

To Be Continued...

Every intimate story holds two truths

This was hers.

Read his perspective here

Lima, Peru, June 3, 2025

Two Perspectives by Fruit & Flowers