We met Sean and Isabela (Isa) in Arequipa last year. They were on their way to Chile but their van was on its last legs and they had their fingers crossed.
I was drawn to Isa because as odd as it may sound her story reminded me of my nomadic youth and we talked. She said you have to see Florianopolis when you go to Brazil. So Monday night they cane by and we took an Uber to a waterside bar and restaurant.
The Uber driver was funny asking me if I was Sean as he had lived for several years in Ireland and he loved it there. I told him my grandfather and sister were Irish but I’d never been. So I found myself being transported through the lush waterside scenery of southern Brazil while my driver escorted me to visit Ireland. If you insist…maybe later?
Ireland and Brazil aside we could have been in South Florida but instead we celebrated Isa’s fast approaching birthday by ordering potent caipirinhas and appetizers.
Sean grew up in Tennessee and went to school in Colorado and met Isadora in Brazil a vacation encounter that had led him to apply for residence. Half of me envies him and the other half admires him for his ability to see a future so far distant from the life he knew. Isa on the other hand grew up in a happy family, working class, and decided to learn English and get a corporate job which she did. She works for a US corporation and can spend up to six months a year in the US. She bought an apartment on the island before the boom and loves her job. I was never so organized before my thirtieth birthday chasing horizons on my motorcycle and imagining life on a boat was the only way to live.
With Rusty comfortably asleep back home aboard GANNET2 we walked the neighborhood where Isa grew up and where Sean is eyeing a plot of land to build a house.
It’s a single street running up the creek finally getting paved with paving stones, the street where Isa used to play before us tourists started showing up. 
The corner store whose owner is known to her: 
The other corner store where she brings visiting friends to pose for their Instagram photo between the Brazilian flags.
The homes of the wealthy encroach like they do everywhere. 
But she knows who they belong to.
The alleys where she played.
And where they still do play.
We climbed the hill to see the house her father built hauling the bricks up in a wheelbarrow as the truck couldn’t make it. 
Dad Douglas is from Uruguay and Mom Ligia is from Floripo. He works in a winery three hours away by car and comes home for half the week at a time. 
If Sean buys the land up the hill he will be a short steep walk from her parents. He is integrating himself into a life so far removed from the generational separation we are used to in the US and he glows from within.
We took an Uber home to a sleepy dog. Emigrating isn’t nearly as easy as people who hate immigrants think it is. I expect he’s up to the challenge. 
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