My son, Trent, known as Carlos, in Mexico, never meets a stranger. So hostel living for a week was right up his alley. He and his African born twin, Jesse, were naturals. Long after we Gringos headed off to La-La Land, they hung with the Euros and made many new friends. I watched them with the thickly accented, English-speaking Continentals, from a table away or as I descended the stairs from our upper room retreat. Their postures and mouths seemed always open in laughter.
Somehow, Trent got all the good family genes when it comes to making friends fast.
He told me later about their conversations and the travelers’ encouragements to him to journey as well, to see the world young. I agreed; he should. He is my vagabond, my troubadour, my wanderer…always welcome, wherever he lands.
I love how he and Jesse never see walls, only opportunity for greater vistas.