A lifetime adventure

It was summer of 2013 (I think) and I was not at all excited about the family trip. The effervescent adolescence in me screamed for adventure, and a week tied to the uncles was not exactly as radical as I had hoped. The week dragged at Cachoeira do Bom Jesus, Santa Catarina — Brazil. The beach was beautiful and the sea had no waves. But do you know those places where you can only find adults? Yeah. Not very exciting. I had already read 3 out of 5 books I had brought for the trip, and boredom did not fail to give the air of grace. I finished another chapter and went to sleep in despair, hoping to go home soon. The next morning, things changed.

I woke up in a bad mood as usual. I had a coffee in silence, trying to organize the morning thoughts and then start to live again. The neighbor from the upstairs apartment knocked on the door about 5 minutes later. “Is anyone there?” She shouted. I called my aunt to answer her and went back to my coffee, hoping the voices would stop soon. “What are you guys going to do today?” The neighbor asked. My aunt replied that it would be basically what we’ve done since we arrived: absolutely nothing. The neighbor invited us for a walk on the French Island, on the coast of Praia de Canasvieiras. The island promised to be a place to enjoy peace and nature. “Great, more quiet,” I complained in thought.

The journey to the destination demanded more of my adventurous spirit than I expected. The boat that carried us crashed into the waves as if it were facing Poseidon. Keeping me inside the boat was a big challenge. “Look there!” My aunt shouted, pointing north. When I turned around, I had the feeling that I was admiring a painting. Two dolphins jumped over the water. I felt privileged for the first time.

When we arrived at Ilha do Francês, I forced myself to swallow all the complaints I had prepared for the day. The Island could be considered a paradisiac place. The water was so crystalline that it bordered transparency, and the fish could be seen swimming quietly. The fine white sand sank to the first touch. Playing in the water, I had my first contact with a puffer. The fish looked like a small ball, and as I approached it, it swelled suddenly, surprising me. That enraptured me in a way I will never forget.

The trip back was scary. The winds made waves bigger than the boat could handle, and it seemed that Poseidon had revolted at the affront last time. We reached the waterfront by leaps and bounds, but closed the walk quietly. After that day, I blamed myself for every complaint made on any trip. Every new place is a gift. No matter the situation, every moment can be the opportunity for a new learning. Different places make you a different person, and that’s not bad at all. That is something to be grateful. And I am.