Preface

Back | Next

(the following text is a "Google-translation" of the original text in Portuguese. It is exactly as it was spilled by the translator, with absolutely no changes. If you want to take the challenge and do a proper translation, I'd be very, very happy.)

Disclaimer:

First, remember that these texts were written during the trip and since then I have not changed anything in them. If something has been changed to try to correct the errors more evident that I could find.

Second, having been typed into the computer, the accent was almost nonexistent. I have tried to add it when I notice his absence, yet you will find multiple words without an accent. Patience ...

Third, even correcting the lack of accents, errors abound. By my Portuguese is limited is because after 12 years outside Brazil, it is even worse.

Finally, read at your own risk. To grammatical errors, lack of logic, and freedoms following the text, add the fact that I am not a writer and you will conclude that reading these texts can not be an easy task or pleasurable. In short, if you do not like, do not read!

 

Most people who hear show of my trip was impressed. "Damn!" "Really?" "Fantastic!" "Super!" "Congratulations!" "I could never do what you're doing ..." "You need a lot of courage!" "You have to have lots of enthusiasm ..." "... Determination ..." "... Patience ..."

I appreciate the compliments, I try to explain that things are not as well, there's nothing special about my trip, which far this plan almost mythical people think, what I do is very natural, simple, normal, human. I ponder, argument, case count, make jokes. I confess my problems, my doubts, my fears, my regrets, my failures. I describe my day to day, my "routine travel." I try to make them understand that my reality is like any other. They shake their heads, eyes blink, grimace, seem to understand. Who knows ...

That's why I write. I want everyone to understand what I'm doing, any other, say, any other right, could do it. I want to show that this trip is the natural result of a change slow, gradual, quiet, almost imperceptible, even to me. She has an explanation, a reason for being, perhaps coincident with that of several others. Perhaps in the end, some end up doing is the question I often asked myself the same: "Why not me?"

Travel. What is this? Why do we travel? I do not want to leave here unraveling definitions, looking for concepts, origins, explaining the history of man and his vocation to the new, the unknown. Nor do I dump here the many reasons that can lead each of us to travel. Each one has its own concepts and motives, knows or believes them. My, I missed a day, shuffled among many others and I do not give more trouble to find them. I travel ...

I've always traveled. Since I can remember. Perhaps even before. Family trips. Dad, mom and brother, bags, backpacks and bags, plans and programs, schedules and itineraries, hotels, restaurants and tourist attractions, photos, "souvenirs" and a world of stories to tell in the back.

I grew up. Friends and girlfriends took the place of the family. The bags were lighter, plans, perhaps less ambitious and less time commitments. The photos came from time to time be replaced by the newest camcorders. And the "souvenirs", well, they no longer have the same importance. But I still traveled. Changed the way the formula remained.

Looking back I see how much time has passed since those trips. Events in one way or another, were pushing me, as if wanting to bring me where I am today: the voyage of the "Project Rondon" 88 in the Amazon. The first camping, half reluctantly, led by her girlfriend gone by 91. The first camping by own against a year later. The first long car trip through the south of the country in 93 or 94. The output of the job in 96. The 45-day trip by car northeast at 97. And from California, soon after, which definitely change my concept of travel.

And finally, the consolidation of this concept with the trip in 98 months by 5 of 5 South American countries. In 10 years, slowly and imperceptibly, I abandoned my traditional formula of traveling to adopt a new, different, more consistent with my expectations and anxieties. I had become a "backpacker".

Backpacker. What is this? The English, someone who travels with a backpack. Will it be enough? The stereotype tells us that he - or she is young, has counted money in your pocket, dress comfortably and robbed - sometimes even dirty, and brings such a great backpack, sometimes multicolored, often exceeding the height of the head. Is it? They say that like saying social tourism, or find other people, other travelers, or even "local" - as they call people who live in the city visited. Come, preferably in groups. If you are alone, it is briefly.

Also according to the "evil tongues," has a certain inclination to the different, the unusual, the unexpected adventure. Travel, when, for long periods, months, sometimes years, covering extensive areas, taking advantage of having left his homeland to know as much, see as much, visit the most. But always, no stress.

His means of transportation is "the cheapest, please." Invariably stays at campsites or hostels. These are preferred by society. Those for the price. A shelter, just wait a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a living room - "to talk, of course."

True or false? Reality or simple good-bad reputation? Maybe that's what, more or less, more in some places, less in others, set, or better, identify a backpacker. And that therefore defines me.

Be the first to comment on this text

New Comment

captcha