Christmas letter from Falkor
Merry Christmas to the family, friends, and many people who have supported me during the first year of this journey.
Dear reader,
The holidays are coming up, and I’m doing something a little different this time.
Instead of sharing an update from the last weeks, I’m honouring the spirit of Christmas by taking a moment to thank all of you who have read, liked, commented, shared, donated, and in so many other ways reached out to support me over the past twelve months.
Before setting sail from Barcelona last December, I was nervous. I was acting on a hunch, following my intuition and what I took to be small signs pointing me in this direction—but if I’m honest, I was full of doubt.
So I called my psychic. Of course.
She didn’t hesitate when she said: I see people from all over the world supporting you.
Instead of feeling reassured, I felt terrified. Accepting help? Me? Unheard of.
And also—why would anyone give me anything, just because?
Still, I made a quiet commitment to say yes whenever support was offered. Looking back, that decision may have been one of the biggest shifts of my life.
What I’ve received hasn’t just been practical help. It has changed how I understand myself, and how I understand human connection—the quiet, often invisible bonds of care and solidarity that stretch across oceans and borders.
Imagine this: you decide to follow something that matters deeply to you, without knowing exactly where it will lead, and along the way people open their homes, feed you, lend you equipment, offer financial support, lift you up when you’re discouraged, and show up without being asked.
That has been my experience this past year. It has restored my faith in humanity in ways I didn’t know I needed.
At a time when the media cycle thrives on fear, and when those in power so often seem to embody the worst of our collective flaws, what I’ve encountered has quietly insisted that the light is stronger than the darkness.
This year, I’ve been invited to countless dinners, given fresh food in remote islands, hosted in people’s homes, mentored, picked up, dropped off, and supported in so many different ways. I’ve been equipped with biking gear, boat gear, and camera gear. People have supported me financially, my crew has sailed, sweat, and bled with me. Every gesture has mattered.
In return, I’ve shared my time, my energy, my stories—and listened to others’. I’ve invited people to be part of this journey through my lens and texts. But I’ve also learned that we don’t always give back to those who help us in a way that feels balanced. Sometimes, we simply commit to paying it forward.
More than once, when I have offered to share these stories on social media, I’ve had people tell me: “We’re doing it because we want to support you, not for visibility.”
Still, I want to take this opportunity to share some of the pictures I’ve taken of some of the people who have made this journey possible. They have reminded me that not everything has to be transactional—that there are still ways of relating that aren’t governed by price tags or performance, but by trust, generosity, and care.
As Christmas approaches, I hope their portraits serve as a small reminder of the many quiet (and loud) ways we do show up for one another—and of the support that can appear when we dare to live in alignment with what feels true.
Thank you for being part of this journey. I’m deeply grateful, and excited to share the year ahead with you.
And remember—“humanity” is not an abstraction, it is you and me, it is us.
Merry Christmas,
Capi Taco <3