Forever Lost

It's tragically funny how many people express their desire of travelling around the world with a bewitching passion, but forget to start where they were supposed to: their own city.

Over the years, I thought a lot about that, and happily concluded that if I really want to see, understand and live every single breathtaking place that this world offers, I need to see, understand and live what I call home first. The city of Curitiba, to be precise, where this story begins.

A slightly cold night, one good friend and all the possibilities that my mind and heart could create. Those were the main ingredients to give life to an adventure that still make my eyes shine like a stage of a Kiss concert. That was the day that I fell irremediably in love for São Francisco Street.

Imagine a tiny, narrow, but charming as a girl in a sundress, street. Now, add some creative restaurants, coffee shops and stores. Lastly, picture a lot of exciting, gentle people who wants to drink, laugh, listen to music and meet other people. That's São Francisco in it's purest form. A block party where everyone's is well received, no one pays to enter and not knowing what's gonna happen is the icing on the cake.

When my friend and I went there, we immediately were dragged to the heart of the street, right between an italian place, called "Nonna Giovanna" and a coffee shop named "Brooklyn". It was where we met a couple of beautiful girls, to whom we asked where we could find beer, since they had two large cups with them, and my mouth was more inclined to steal a sip than a kiss at that point.

They said we could buy beers a little down the street. As we walk, my eyes are draw to a small colorful square. Then I discovered that the place is warmly called "Cyclist Pocket Square", and that it was built by volunteers, cyclists and dwellers of the town. Looking back, I remeber I couldn't stop smiling and thinking how truly amazing people can be when they want to. So much, actually, that I forgot about the beer. Wich is insanely astonishing.

As the night kept growing, as if it was in a hurry to reach the morning after, my will to return home kept fading. Especially after we joined a cheerful group, who would sing "Whole Lotta Love", from Led Zeppelin, at the top of their lungs, making tuneless echoes through the rocky street and crowded sidewalks.

However, eventually, I did go home. But with a precious teaching: if the street is rocking, don't bother knocking.