MENTORS, ROLE MODELS & FATHER FIGURES

Another day, another dime. Or in Guate, another day, another Quetzal. Yesterday, a Scottish couple left us a tip. My share was 10 Quetzals. Thanks a million.

This morning I woke up thinking about someone that, during my late teen years was a mentor to me, Senhor Pimenta (Mr. Pepper).

You see, my grandparents were responsible for my upbringing and education, because my mom, unable to find a job in Madeira, immigrated to Spain. Three years before that, my father went to Lisbon to purchase some camera equipment for his photography work, but never returned. He was gone, no one knew his whereabouts, he simply vanished in thin air.

I didn’t know it then but several people would play a significant part throughout my life, and in some way or other, would replace my father’s place. They were my mentors, role models and father figures. Senhor Pimenta was, unknowingly, one of them.

For several years, I worked as a night receptionist of a five star hotel in Madeira. Senhor Pimenta, a tall man well in his forties, and with receding black hair was the night concierge, so having several hours to kill, whilst the hotel guests were asleep in king size beds, we would embrace in avid discussions on every imaginable topic.

During the early and quiet hours of the night, he’d talk about his beloved wife and his amazing young daughter. Other times, and in full detail, he would revive his tales of Ultramar, the Portuguese equivalent of the Vietnam War, where young Portuguese men, commanded by our dictator, fought the revolutionaries in several ex-Portuguese colonies in Africa.

I’d shared my thoughts, my dreams, and ask him all the questions that I didn’t had the opportunity to ask my father. He would listen to me patiently without interrupting and sometimes offer his sound advice. His way of giving advise wasn’t like “this is what I’d do if I was you…”, instead he would start some unrelated story that wouldn’t make any sense at the beginning but soon enough it would hit home and I knew what to do, what path to take.

One of the last things he uttered to me was: “Paulo, your mission is not in this island, – and pointing at the Atlantic Ocean - you’re destined to go over that horizon line.”

A couple weeks after, I’m on a plane to Amsterdam and as they say, the rest is history.

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~