I’ve been travelling too long to call it a vacation.
I’m enjoying myself too much to call myself a homeless.
After my stay in Guatemala, I gradually recover from the machete attack. It was a shock to realize what a dangerous country is, but I’m slowly getting over it.
These are my last days in Latin America.
I spend the remaining time in San Salvador, at my girlfriend’s father.
He shelters me like a guy shelters another guy: without comments or flowers on the bedside table, yet I feel very welcome.
Vilma’s father is an old man that has gone through all possible experiences, from being very poor to becoming very rich, several times.
He’s not talkative but kind and warm. We don’t speak the same language, we take meals together while the TV blasts latin program.
That’s as simple as it gets. I like it that way.
Latino Americans
Salvadoran lady making Pupusas
Latin America is not a total stranger, anymore, even if I’m galaxies away from knowing that area.
I started from scratch: in France, we don’t learn anything about Latin America, like it has nothing to do with us. We’re so wrong! We have more in common with Latinos than with most other people in the world.
For instance, Latinos and French love to make fun of everything and everyone, they love food and they curse like hell. They’re addicted to soccer football, are totally unfaithful and have a lot to learn about sexual equality. They don’t care about being the best as much as having a good time with their family and friends.
I didn’t feel like a stranger to them and their world and they knew how to make me feel at home, too.
It’s comfortable to know that you have distant brothers, somewhere on the planet. That’s probably the best reward of this trip.
No ads in the mailbox
I don’t receive spam in my mailbox, that’s another reward of my journey.
I don’t have a mailbox anymore, that’s the trick, which means:
No special discount on ground beef
No credit card rebates or freaking coupons I don’t care for
No marketing letter starting with my first name to make me feel special.
“Dear Gael, did you know that you’re eligible to our premium customers mflblflflh BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH”
Spam mail has nowhere to find me now.
Courtesy of Dvortygirl
Going homeless rids you of those trouble, if you’re thoughtful (I got my administrative mail managed by an accountant).
There are other things you don’t have to worry about if you give up your appartment.
Take the neighbors, for example, the morons upstairs that like to blast Euro-dance on Sunday afternoons? No need to retaliate, anymore.
No need to threaten the landlord to fix the leak in the bathroom, either.
All these are history, left behind, for as long as I want to live a life without a home. It feels nice to skip all that hassle, without a struggle.
I don’t intend to get off the grid, though. I still have a job and I like the feeling of contributing by paying taxes and voting.
It’s just that I don’t see the point in staying somewhere, taking all that shit for a feeling of security that the modern world doesn’t provide anyway.
Freedom tastes better than that.
Next post, I promise I’ll tell you about money, and the dicey choice of earning an income “on a homeless basis”.