Rio in the mystery waves to Europe

As I am writing this I can assure that not the good day of Gods creations when he made the women in Brazil nor the goddess when he gave the six-pack to the men in the country, has nothing to do with what I am to write.

I have spent one month in the country that I love so very very much and have come to realize and understand my things. It is not easy to live here! I have never asked for an easy way out and I love challenges but at some point it all just put together is taking the best of you. I mean when you are hungry first of all you have to fight with your credit card company to tell them that you are not in America but in South America and all your attempted withdrawals are alright and once you finally get paid you start to wonder where to buy your food and how the hell even cook it because you don’t have a gas lease where you live. To who can you talk about these things, and most of all How as no one talks your language and Portuguese is now all that will help you survive literally. How do I get to the place that can get me what I need as in stores, and which fakkin bus should I take, and who do I ask how to get there, and is there anyone that can instruct me…no not really! You realize you are in Rio de Janeiro and vacation is over! I love it, this is it and I can finally emerge to be a Carioca I always wanted to be. So I get the right bus number and find myself around and get to the place I want to be, or did I? It always happens that people say something just to get you out of their face and once again I live just to admit it happened once to the very wrong place.

I love Rio de Janeiro now and always forever, that will never change! But one day bound to bed sick with colorful paintings visualized and colors that were never really there, I came to realize what I was meant to do and where. I knew that the fever with all the fake visualizations had not taken the best of me when I started to look at flights to Europe and returning back home. I came to realize I miss my friends and I think I am entitled to after four years on the road. Not Rio nor any other place in the world will ever compare to them, and I knew it was time to return home. Go as long I can recognize them and most of all as I am still recognized by them.

I often think myself as a leaf at sea. Waves taking you to the left and sometimes right while trying to stay at surface. Letting go to one or the other neither is the right one, especially when you know that the swell will come very soon to once again take you further away from where you originally came from. Your origin being the shore that will only be a memory of your past soon enough if you don’t start swimming to get back. As I float among the waves I often wonder weather I should fight the swell to get back ashore or just let go to the unknown where all is new, yet so scary? Here I am in the middle of the sea wanting to be ashore with the familiar faces and things I love but at the same time have the urge to know what the deeper sea can give me. The closer I get more worried I get that I will crash and want to return back out to sea. The further out from land I find myself the stronger gets the feeling that it is too late to try so swim back ashore as all power is taking me further and further deeper and deeper.

At the end of it all I have decided to swim ashore and get back “home”. I am ready to get there and my God let it crash! I miss my friends and family to much not to fight to see them as soon as possible. What will happen after is a mystery even to me, but I have my positive feeling it will be just as it was supposed to be!


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