Story: . Farewell South America ( One year, one travel, eight countries ) .

Argentina: Mate, mozzarella, women, soccer fever, blue sky and infinite, straight highways. Buenos Aires: Humidity, a beautiful worry-free woman, soft skin of the New World without the second-degree burns you can get in Rio, Lima or Bogotá. Buenos Aires, so cultured! Buenos Aires, soundtrack of my life.

Peru: Coast, mountains, jungle, shrimp ceviche, sour pisco always cold. Machu Picchu, Gringo’s Disney World. Lima: Grey mountains, bike-cabs, and streets you need faith to cross. I remember your Park of Love: sky, life, alphabet, air that I breathe. Lima, hold me in your memories as tightly as I have held you.

Brazil, sweet as childhood, immense Brazil. Sao Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, Bahia: sometimes Mafia in the streets, soccer, samba and caipirinha. Brazil, quick sex, fun sex, mandatorily safe sex, full of sand, laughter, and broken promises. Brazil, a green and yellow identity, always music in their souls.

Ecuador, latitude zero, butterflies dancing in the air, wild waves, dollarization. In Quito, Bob SquarePants is running for president. In the Amazonian Region, the Indigenous are wearing Gap t-shirts, and Shakira’s Bar is playing radical techno-merengue music. Snow is on the Mount Chimborazo and the children are so wise!

Bolivia sad little girl, Bolivia Mother Earth, Bolivia sacred land of the Indigenous, Bolivia without a sea, Bolivia making faces at the gringos, Bolivia coca-growing, peaceful, schizodelic. Bolivia, a place where you feel part of the Jet Set; a place where you feel you’re the worst garbage in the world. Bolivia, I want to die in Uyuni.

Chile’s costly, going through Customs is torture. La Serena Town, materialistic, beautiful, a little chilly; I caught the feel-like-shopping bug. Valparaiso, nostalgia multicolored, a truly unique city. Southern Chile, each night a gala celebration replete with a shower of stars.

Uruguay’s a reddish sun dying in the sky, wind and more wind. “If you don’t like the weather, wait ten minutes”, graffiti wisdom. Uruguay’s a sick blonde, an oxidized smile on people’s faces, campsites, hippies, mate under the full moon. Montevideo, a bandoneon and a name on every streetcorner, a tribute, a destiny.

Colombia’s a bittersweet symphony, here are my family and friends, who are my homeland. Colombia, Tayrona Park, Guajira State, and Sapzurro Beach: fried fish and Caribbean Paradises. Colombia, although you hurt me, I never stopped loving you.

I didn’t go to Venezuela and Paraguay, but I can say this: South America, I followed the bright path wherever my caprices took me. South America, I ignored the instructions for use that came with life. South America, I was inside you more than a tourist. South America, it’s time to say farewell forever.