Explore "The Apprentice Tourist" by Mário de Andrade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
SàO PAULO, MAY 7, 1927: Departure from São Paulo. I bought an enormous bamboo cane for the trip, what a silly thing to do! It must've been some vague fear of Indians. I know full well there's nothing adventurous or dangerous about the trip we're about to take, but in addition to our logical faculties, each of us possesses a poetic mind as well. Half-remembered readings spurred me on more than the truth-savage tribes, alligators, bullet ants. And my saintly little soul imagined: cannon, revolver, cane, jackknife. And opted for the cane.
Well, in my eagerness to show just how calm I was, I kind of lost track of time, I forget the cane, remember the cane in the taxi, go back for the cane, and finally manage to make it to the station cane in hand. Just five minutes till the train leaves. I bid everyone farewell, seeming calm, feigning happiness. "Bon voyage," "Bring us back an alligator". I hugged them all. And then there were still five minutes left again!