An Authentic Life 1.1 for pdf - Universalist Radha-Krishnaism

“No.” Paul replied.
“How far is it to the coast?”
“About three hundred miles.”
“Isn’t Puerto Vallarta west of here?”
“Yeah! How’d you like to go there?”
“Yeah! Why don’t we walk straight across
country to Puerto Vallarta? We can go talk to Raul and
find out what the terrain and the natives are like between
here and there and if we should attempt it.” I
suggested.
“Hey, that’s a good idea.”
We went to Queretero, and Raul gave the go
ahead. We said good bye to Maria and Lupe. Paul
bought a pistol, and I bought a big sheath knife along
with canteens, boots, and big sombreros. We talked of
what it would be like to live as banditos in the mountains.
Maybe we could rustle a couple of horses.
We returned to San Miguel and got our things.
Stuffing our packs with sausages, bread, cheese, and
canned goods, canteens filled with wine, we set out
early the next morning. The first day’s hike took us
further into the mountains than we had been. Sunset
with the lights from San Miguel shimmering in the
distance looked magical.
The magic wore off. Eating cactus pears and
pulp, we marched on sore feet in new boots. Drinking
from streams, being chased by farmer’s dogs, and
sleeping in the cold, high desert nights with just one
blanket each--after several days we headed for a road.
After a month in Mexico, Paul was broke, and I
only had enough money for one bus ticket to Mexi-
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