From the Hymalayan to the Sea

        I am sitting on the sailboat. It sways gently. On the stove is getting ready, the autumn sun filters through the windows. I come back, as always when we start a new stage, to think about the beginning. Perhaps we can say that this sailing trip begins when Diego and I met, sixteen years ago, and we decided to get on a journey that quickly changed our lifestyle and led us to be nomads, wanderers, vagabonds.

After two years walking from Argentina to Mexico, four years pedaling from Spain to China, four years touring Asia on a scooter and Argentina in a van, two years touring China in a minivan, and a European year, between the waves of the pandemic, discovering deeper France and Spain aboard our little caravan, now the four of us get on a sailboat.  The sailboat, and with it the dreams of traveling the Mediterranean, of discovering Africa, of returning to America with the force of the wind… there is nothing more romantic than the idea of ​​literally moving with the wind. How many times do we answer to people who asked us about our future plans: "We don't know, we travel with the wind." But it wasn't entirely true. We travel with our crazy will, we travel with our dreams so alive and presents, we travel with the faith that it is possible, and that nothing is worth more than the “now”, the moment, the present… We travel with the strength of our muscles, with the wheels, with the motor of the motorcycle or the Van, with the enthusiasm and patience and strength of our children who accompany us. And with love, of course, with much love through thick and thin. However with the wind, like this, sometimes pushing us and others stopping us, not yet. Sometimes, on the way to the East by bicycle, we dreamed with Diego setting a sail for the tandem...