Day 8: SOL
It was another day at the antique shop SOL. I was armed with a broom and wax this time, determined to breathe new life into the worn-out floors. As I worked, I caught a passerby’s attention and he offered advice on how to clean the floor: scrubbing it with a steel wool scourer, wiping it with bleach, and then polishing it with wax to make it shine. Although skeptical at first, I decided to try his tips. To my surprise, the results were undeniable. The floor was transformed, impeccably reflecting the antique shop's dim lighting. Thanks to the sweat and fatigue that came with the work, I felt a sense of accomplishment.

At Ricardo’s another store, I became a shopkeeper. Fumbling through my rudimentary Spanish, I managed to make a sale—an old movie film. The buyer, a traveler from Uruguay, was intrigued by my biking adventure plan and offered his contact for when I would reach Montevideo.

Back to the hostel, random encounters continued to sprinkle warmth into my life. One man greeted me with an inexplicable enthusiasm, which I later learned was spurred by Francesca's stories about me. Then there was Sarah, a university student from Peru, who handed me a Che Guevara T-shirt and a small pink bag, a parting gift from Masa. The T-shirt came with a promise to reunite somewhere, someday. Simone, an Italian traveler whom I met earlier, offered me additional clothing and shoes. The overwhelming kindness made me question my worth, but at the same time, I realized that I was already well-equipped for my journey.