I began travelling at a very young age, in a time when journeying had not yet become fashionable. These were long, meandering voyages — undertaken with but a single backpack and without any reservations. On one such journey, I found myself in Venezuela, accompanied by a friend. We landed in Canaima National Park, deep in the heart of the Amazon.
There, with a small group of youthful explorers like ourselves and guided by a native guide, we ventured into the forest for a week-long trek. We slept in hammocks strung between trees, ate fruits we gathered along the way, and surrendered ourselves entirely to the wilderness. It was a marvellous immersion into nature, the memories of which I later wove into one of my stories.
But the most extraordinary event occurred one night, as I lay beneath the stars reading a book by Carlos Castaneda. Our guide told us of a hermit who lived not far from our camp. Intrigued, I asked whether we might meet him. That night, she disappeared into the forest and returned later with word: the man had agreed to see us.
Such a thing was rare. He rarely received the few travellers who, in those days, dared to enter the depths of the forest. We discovered that he was a scientist from Eastern Europe, and he told us that he had discovered the waterfall — later named after Angel — alongside the man himself. That encounter left a lasting impression on me, and it was from this enigmatic figure that I drew inspiration for the character of Leopold.
