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Chapter 1: Sasha
“Querida! Wait!” a voice called from behind me as I sprinted out of the tall apartment building that I’d spent the night in, onto the bustling streets of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
“Taxi!” I shouted, waving my arms wildly in the crowded street.
A yellow vehicle with blue stripes on the side pulled to a halt in front of me. Jumping in, I threw my backpack on the seat next to me and shouted at the driver.
“Dirija, por favor!” (Drive, please!) The driver stepped on the gas, weaving through the congested streets, headed to Galeão Airport.
This wasn’t one of my proudest moments, but the scene that had just unfolded was a recurrence now as I made my way around the world on my version of ‘Eat, Pray, Love.’
I liked to call it ‘Eat, Sight-see, F*ck.’
It all started five years ago when I graduated from college with a degree in human resources management. I joined a retail company for a brief internship and then quickly entered the workforce as a human resources generalist, ready to show off my knowledge.
Four years into my career, I was unhappy and found myself searching job postings on Indeed late one night. An ad for a posting lead me to Facebook where I’d received a notification from a group I recently joined. That Facebook group, titled “Are We Dating the Same Guy?” is how I found out that my boyfriend of eight months was also someone else’s fiancé.
After a few too many nights of binge drinking, complaining to my best friend Natalie and a realization that I absolutely loathed my HR job, I quit, packed a small backpack with a few belongings, and set off to explore the world. I was 27 years old, single, and heartbroken. It made for some fun, albeit reckless adventures as I tasted new cuisines and scaled continents.
Nine months ago, I’d kicked off my journey as far away as I could get – Australia. After exploring the outback and golden coast, I headed to New Zealand and then Bali where I spent the holidays under the Coconut Palms.
I then headed down to South Africa, where I brought in the New Year with a bang - literally. Michael’s body was built like a tree and when I was grinding against it to the local afrobeat music in Johannesburg, nothing else mattered. I was intent on forgetting my cheating ex-boyfriend, Colton, with a different boy on every continent.
Two months ago, I arrived in South America. After hopping from country to country, dancing salsa late into the night, exploring new foods, making friends, and crashing in hostels, I landed in Brazil.
That brought me to this morning and Lucas.
He was handsome, 30 years old with dark brown smoldering eyes, skin to match and a body chiseled like a god. Lucas played for one of the semi-pro soccer teams in Brazil, and when our eyes connected across last night’s bar, sparks ignited.
After a few too many shots of Cachaça, we ended up back at his apartment entangled in a passionate love affair determined to makes his neighbors remember our names.
But when the morning arrived, I knew it was time to leave. I never stayed anywhere too long. I was the American, running from her screwed up past. Next on my list was Europe, and even Lucas and his delicious body weren’t going to keep me from continuing my heartbreak tour.
The flight to Ireland was 16 hours long, so I decided I’d take that time to catch up on some work. Though I’d quit my HR job before embarking on this journey, my mom had helped set me up with an online adjunct professor job with our local community college. Thankfully, it allowed me to work from anywhere in the world while bringing in some income to support my travels.
I fired off emails, responding to my students and grading papers as we crossed oceans below. Somewhere over the Atlantic Sea, I dozed off, only waking once I heard the pilot come over the air.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be making our descent into Dublin Airport in the next 30 minutes. Please bring your seats into the upright position and fasten any belongings beneath your chair.”
I sat up to find a pool of drool dripping from the corner of my lips. Looking in the mirror, I smoothed my curly, auburn hair into a ponytail and brushed on some pink lipstick and a few swipes of mascara. I closed my laptop and slid it under my chair.
As we disembarked from the aircraft, I was once again grateful that I didn’t have any luggage to claim. Traveling light meant skipping the long baggage claim lines and made escaping from one-night stands much easier.
I opened my phone to pull up the Uber app and schedule a ride. The driver who confirmed showed he was already nearby, but the pick-up point was on the other side of the terminal.
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself, sprinting through the packed Irish airport, determined not to have him cancel on me for being a no-show.
I was a sweaty mess by the time I reached the designated pick-up area and spotted the white Volkswagen. Confirming the match with the license plate, I opened the door and smoothly slid into the back seat.
“Ethan?” I asked.
The driver laughed, “Yes, but I think you’re supposed to ask that before you get into a strangers car.”
I rolled my eyes. American accent. Of course he’d be a smart-ass.
“Liam’s Hostel?” Ethan asked from the front seat.
“Yes, please,” I responded. “You’re American?” I asked, my eyes locking with the green eyes that stared back at me in the mirror.
