📸 Photo

When it is time to take my leave, I have the nerve to invite the mother and daughter to visit me in the apartment I have rented in the city. On the appointed day, after poring over recipes, I decide to serve a pizza, the very best pizza ever prepared. I knead the dough and toss it into the air like a professional. I don't settle for tomato paste seasoned with oregano, but sauté onions in a deep skillet together with whole, peeled tomatoes. I add green peppers and numerous cloves of garlic. I spice the sauce and ladle it over the crust. I sprinkle aromatic grated cheese in a thick layer. The cheese melts even before I put the pizza into the oven.

Dinner is a great success. We drink a lot of wine. It doesn't take long from there to the wedding . . .

My belly was howling. Brazil had been swell, but I had gotten my digestive juices all worked up for nothing. No matter, one day the dream would come true. For now I had to find something to eat.

Walking was intolerably difficult. The rain poured down. The jungle was dark and gloomy, and I walked slowly. It wasn't much better on the path. It was often blocked and frequently left me abandoned, helpless, in the jungle. The little streams were brimming over and difficult to cross. Scaling the walls of the wadis and climbing steep hills was treacherous. My shoes were caked with mud, and I slipped often. I was exhausted. I leaned heavily on my walking stick. I was weak and