Yolanda Ramos elogia a Rocío Carrasco tras reality sudamericano

Yolanda Ramos is still finding her footing in ordinary life after two months in the South American wilderness. She had just arrived at the premiere of a documentary about Antonio Flores when she sat down to talk about what the experience had done to her—and to the friendships forged along the way.

The TVE reality show 'Hasta el fin del mundo' had taken her and her niece Ainoa Olivares across Central and South America, alongside other recognizable faces including Rocío Carrasco, Alba Carrillo, and Cristina Cifuentes. The production had stripped away the usual anchors of modern life. Phones were confiscated. The cast was isolated. Ramos found herself in an indigenous village where children carried mobile devices while the adults around her did not, where clothes were washed by hand, where the absence of distraction became almost unbearable. "You go to sleep and think, what do I do now? Just think. And you ask yourself, think about what?" she said, the weight of that enforced stillness still visible in her words.

For Ramos, the ordeal had a clarifying effect on her relationships. She spoke with genuine warmth about Rocío Carrasco, describing how the other woman had been a steady presence throughout the journey, always there when things got difficult across the continent. "She tells me everything," Ramos said, "because she's the kind of person who's an open book with her friends." She was careful to emphasize that she would never betray those confidences, that loyalty ran both ways. What struck her most was Carrasco's fundamental decency. "She's wonderful and incredibly unpretentious. Too unpretentious, really. I'd be an idiot if I were her—and you don't need to be anybody's daughter to be that way. She's wonderful. If she wasn't, she wouldn't be my friend."

When the conversation turned to the recent separation of Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi—mutual friends of Ramos—she shrugged off the drama with the ease of someone who has learned not to take other people's ruptures personally. "Who doesn't get separated?" she said. "Everyone does. The one that surprised me was mine." She was careful not to speculate about whether Los Javis would continue working together, but her hope was clear: "I love them both. As long as they're happy, that's what matters to me."

For now, Ramos said her only plan was rest. The two months away had been a kind of forced reckoning, a time when the noise stopped and she had to sit with her own thoughts. That kind of clarity, once gained, doesn't fade quickly.