I’ve been on the road before, inconsistently yet constant, a rebellious trade of my character that would not settle for a “you can’t do that!” My response to that always has been, “Oh no? Really?. . . Watch me”. The challenge was on, and like a cartoon of the Road Runner, my feet kicked the dust and I just zoomed out from the ground where I happened to be standing. I was young and I was restless. And I wanted to mature on the road, find my purpose, and hopefully evolve. I had the good fortune to have highly permissive parents. After all, they couldn’t repress me, nor stop me. . . .I sailed from Buenos Aires, donned a backpack and headed north, never looking back. All my senses were alert, and the taste of freedom was incomparable to any other feeling in any other time. I hitchhiked everywhere, going from city to town, crossing rivers and lakes, jungles and falls. And the feeling was that of exhilarating elation. In order to survive, I started to make hippie jewelry with beans and copper strings and I would sell them as I went along. In some cases I would find a girl companion who was either running away or found in my company a good excuse to do just that.
Everybody knows that when you travel with a cute young female, your chances to get picked up grow greatly. During the trip, they would keep the drivers entertained while I slept soundly. It worked like a charm that it was. And I’m going,, getting closer and closer to the point of no return.
Brazil was everything I expected it to be. From now on ,I would have to reinvent myself and use every tool available for my survival. And what an reinvention that turned out to be. . . .