Pablo's Adventures

As they’re fond of saying in Latin America, mi casa es tu casa; and that’s very much the philosophy of The Galah. (Though not legally mine, when you’ve resided in any hostel for as long as I have it’s only natural that I think of it as mine). It’s your home away from home. Naturally, mi casa es tu casa is more something one says, rather than fact and most people tend to accept that; even so, some habits are best kept to the privacy of the shower cubicle or undercover of darkness once “lights are out” in the dormitory. Pablo will eventually learn this.

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Pay It Onwards

When I eventually did leave Pablo’s I was left with that nagging feeling of wanting to repay him. As I munched away on a ¾ Corralisima Todotorreno burger and studied Pablo’s miserably gaunt face and his bony fingers as he ran them around the greasy inside of the empty carton of small fries to extract as much nutrition as he could, it dawned on me: If I couldn’t pay it back to him, what was to stop me paying it onwards to someone else?

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Three Lions

I wanted England to win. Of course I did. Yet the human mind works in mysterious ways. Equal to my desire for England to win was for Marc not to enjoy being over there to see us reach the final. Yet no sooner had England reverted to type and surrendered its lead, those feelings of longing and homesickness (and wishing ill of Marc) disappeared. 

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On Natural Seleciao

I was standing in the hallway of my parent’s home, taking one last look at the photos on the floral wallpapered walls: there was my older brother winning the 100 metres on school sports day; there was my older brother on graduation day; my older brother working for the Red Cross in Kenya, and so on. None of them suggested either of us would go on to achieve anything significant, let alone my unrivalled standing within the backpacking community.

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