book has become a phenomenon ... or so you hear. It worked for her, it can work for you. That's how these things go.Except it isn't. There are parasites and half-day bus rides and no part of your path that feels uninfluenced by Lonely Planet. The native girls challenge your once-bulletproof advances and the backpackers that don't seem every bit as vapid as the stateside ones who bored you. You will get robbed. And you will return to a hometown that seems locked in step with six-month old footprints.
Roosh Vörek's "A Dead Bat In Paraguay: One Man's Peculiar Journey Through South America
" is an honest look at the adventure of travel. It starts the same way as many a modern American tale, with a protagonist feeling trapped by circumstance, suffering ennui born of a life that's only proving to be ordinary:I wanted to travel for a long time, abuse my liver, and meet exotic women. Then after I tire of boozing I wanted to find some answers to what I should do for the rest of my life. Time off would help put me on a fulfilling path, because the answer obviously wasn't working as a microbiologist. Only a long trip could lead go my eventual happiness. (Page 17)
So Roosh locks himself on a budget, moves in with his old man, saves up 35 G's and sets off with the intention of hitting every country in South America. Allowing for a loose timeframe of 6-12 months, Roosh planned to begin in Ecuador, traveling southeast through Argentina and Brazil, back up north through the "three countries no one visits," then Venezuela and a final stop in Brazil.
By Peru -- country No. 2 -- Roosh has suffered multiple rejections of the type that would leave a less secure man dejected and wandering, from being stood up for an admittedly tenuous coffee date to being told to "wait outside" for a change of venue that would next be coming. And he has been stricken with debilitating parasites, which leave him suffering throughout a 10-hour bus ride as he enters Huaraz. With only a urinal on the bus and contractions threatening to flush his system every 20 minutes, the author's "shirt was soaked in sweat from the straining" and he "clenched (his) jaw every time (his) stomach announced its intentions to get rid of the poison it was swimming in." Roosh manages to hold off the squirts temporarily, but never fully shakes the bug, which tortures him throughout the remainder of his six months abroad.
As he continues along, Roosh deals with the transient nature of travel; sightseeing loses its luster, beginning to be replaced by a focus on the friendships he's making -- and remaking -- as he bounces in-and-out of the third-world lives existing on the fringes of a tourism industry fueled by privilege. Roosh easily links up with male travelers, sometimes dispensing girl advise: "You can say, 'You look like you're having the most fun here out of anyone.' It's generic enough that you can use it most places, but it doesn't come off across as a line." Other times he marvels at the game of the Canadian "Predator" or Beppe, the Italian who turns notoriously difficult Argentinian girls mad for him with an effervescence that "got girls by allowing them to get aggressive ... It was his personality that did all the heavy lifting. It was potent and could not be reproduced. All (Roosh) could hope for was to take one little piece of it."
But for all the good times bonding -- over alcohol, interesting experiences and chasing tail; same as single guys stateside -- there is the nagging reality of the lives that aren't free of the land. Roosh becomes a hardened traveler, passing advice on how to avoid being pickpocketed, scammed or robbed to those he meets. And yet even moments of empathy are grounded in a realism some might call cynical until they realize he's likely right. After seeing a destitute man in Paraguay languidly raising his arm in a ridiculously ineffective attempt to sell bingo cards to passersby, Roosh breaks down in his hotel room:
I cried like a baby. It's not fair they're dealt such hands. I wanted to help them and make a difference, but eventually the same petty bullshit that worries me will return, and I won't do a damn thing, and nothing will change. (Page 221)
By the book's end, things have changed for Roosh. Or they haven't. He lets the reader decide, not caring about the answer -- he's off on the next adventure, perhaps damned if he does, but damn well sure he didn't.
- For more on "A Dead Bat in Paraguay," which will be released Sept. 15, visit adeadbatinparaguay.com.
- For more by Roosh, visit his blog at rooshv.com.
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Very well written review. Book's on it's way.
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