What a better place to Start than 17 !

La ciudad del sol & del buen vino.

Place: Mendoza, Argentina (The land that I adore.)

I felt like the King of Mza. Dad was a successful businessman. My family was the best thing that a teenager could wish for. I was in love, or at least that's what I thought. It would take me forever to explain the economical and social crisis that Argentina faced at that time, but it is enough to say that my father lost everything he had. My father was smarter than the economical crisis itself, but I don’t think he ever anticipated that his brothers would take advantage of the family business. (I say take advantage for lack of a better word, or for the love that still exists for those who hurt my dad.) Yes I was 17 years old, and I had nothing. We sold everything we had and left the country. Chile became home to us again.  Abuelita Gina (A great woman in Zion) helped us as we struggled to put our lives back together. I don’t know how we ended up in Canada but we did. All I know is that one-day Otto (dad) asked me for my passport in the morning and came back home in the afternoon with two tickets to go to Toronto, Canada. (Beautiful place-a land that taught me many valuable lessons.)

Yes, soy yo ! En la Chamba con los Mexas! & Sergito un jefaso!

So there I was 17, almost 18, with no money and no friends. It was cold there and I cried more than I ever had before. Dad told me that he loved me, but that in Canada we were going to be partners. He told me I needed to find a job to pay for rent and food. I must say that I knew how to work, dad had taught me that, but I had no idea how to find a job. Oh, it is also pretty darn hard to find a job if you don’t speak English, ANY English. I worked. I cried. I suffered. I learned what money really was. I learned how to be happy with nothing. I started to become what I am today. I also learned many other things like how to read blueprints and build houses. I made tons of money and was sure that Canada was going to be home sweet home for all of us…

I was wrong. (Like most of the time I am.) Mother refused to be an illegal. She was too strong in the gospel to break the law of the country. She said, "I am not going to Canada". Ricardos (dad + oldest brother) cooked together a master plan. They planned a move to Germany because after all, that is what we are (Germans), and there was no way we could go back to Latin America. I was young and Europe was another world to add to my list of travels. I said yes!