Saudades

I was 23. The Great War had just ended, but I continued to go the sea, my refuge from being drafted as a GI. I was running between New Orleans and Buenas Aires with a long stop at Santos, Brazil on the way (we loaded her down with coffee).

I had met some young people there of remarkable culture (they all spoke two or three languages), the girls were lovely. I fell in love with a couple of them, Maria Teresa and Wanda; the second one had more substance; she said she meant to go to Medical School.

Those girls were crazy about Americans; they couldn't have treated Jimmy Stewart any better than they treated me. I once asked Wanda why they like Americans so much; her reply: because they're not 'malicioso'; I understood perfectly what she meant.

Now it was my last trip; I hated the thought of giving up Santos, but I knew that if I kept on, I would soon become nothing but an old sea dog.

As the radio operator I had little to do except listen to the radio. Going home I came across Rachmaninoff