Honestly, traveling through the Amazon rainforest is a frustrating experience. I have not even gotten anywhere. All there is are gigantic trees tangled together, and roots that emerge from the ground like snakes, making every step difficult. The air is heavy and humid, and the constant sounds of insects and animals are getting on my nerves. Not to mention the invisible dangers, like wild and venomous animals, that lurk in the darkness.
I had barely covered an eighth of the distance, and I could already feel the exhaustion weighing me down.
My goal was to reach what would later become Venezuela, and then cross the countries bordering Mexico. After that, I would head to the United States and, finally, to Canada. My ultimate aim was to reach the Middle East, as that was where civilization would develop most rapidly, and I could begin to amass wealth and influence, leaving this endless jungle behind.
Suddenly, a light breeze stirred the treetops, and without warning, the rain began to pour, soaking me completely. To my annoyance, the water was cold, and the humidity only intensified. I stopped dead in my tracks, covering myself with whatever I could find, cursing my luck.
Seriously, I hate this time of year, I thought, feeling frustration rise in my throat as water ran down my face.
Damn it. I finally made it out of that goddamn jungle. It only took me three damn months.
I yelled to the sky, exhausted and covered in mud, as I gazed at the horizon beyond the Amazon with a mixture of frustration and relief. I was worn out, but at last I had reached a place that did not smell of dampness and poisonous snakes.
On my journey, I stumbled upon something interesting, or rather, something interesting found me. Not even a day had passed before I encountered a small indigenous civilization.
The encounter was strange. At first, they looked at me with fear. Then they attacked me with spears and stones. It hurt, of course, but I did not retaliate. When they saw that I was not dying, they began shouting, Incarnation of the Devil, and ran away.
What they do not tell you in schools is that anything that is not Indian, yellow, or black is considered a manifestation of the devil. It is like a kind of racism, but in reverse.
After a couple of unfortunate encounters with other tribes, in which I gave them a few good fights, I finally managed to speak with the leader of a tribe near a large river. They were called the Yukana.
To gain their favor, I simply hunted some animals, which seemed enough for them to think I was a celestial being. Look, the man who brings meat and does not die when struck with spears must be a messenger of the gods, they reasoned. I was just grateful they did not consider me the devil again.
My new name, to avoid being recognized, was Mási, which in their dream language meant friend. And yes, in case you are wondering, that was the most original thing I could think of at the time.
Over the course of several days, they taught me how to read the wind direction, predict the weather, and other incredibly useful skills I never imagined I would need. Come on. Who would not want to know when it is going to rain without having to ask a meteorologist?
Plus, I started bartering with the precious metals they gave me, though I did not get any clothes, since they only wore loincloths, and that was not really my thing.
Oh, and I almost forgot. Many of the women in the tribe offered me their daughters in marriage. Yes, you heard that right. I did not even look nine years old, but they already wanted to marry me off. I rejected all those proposals, even though my ego was getting a boost.
After learning what I could about hunting, farming, and canoes, I decided to continue my journey. My goal was to reach what would become Guatemala. I knew it would take a while, but oh well. I was in ancient civilization tourist mode.
I visited several tribes, each with its own remedies for minor ailments like fever or stomach problems. But when something was more serious, the answer was simple. Imminent death.
And the worst part was that life expectancy rarely exceeded thirty or forty years, if you were lucky. Personally, I was not very optimistic about my health at that time.
Finally, after several years of walking, and continuing to avoid marriages and spears, I arrived in what we now call Guatemala. Or at least, the future Guatemala.
You know, that promised land full of corn, chilies, beans, and squash.
If there is one thing I learned among all those tribes, it is that there was never a shortage of food, but the diet was always the same.
I stayed with some tribes for a while to learn from them. The idea was to teach them pottery, but I quickly realized that if I did that, history would speed up too much. So, instead of changing the course of time, I simply continued my journey, letting the tribes develop at their own pace, while I became an expert at avoiding forced marriages.
When I arrived in Mexico, well, let us just say it was not all that exciting. There were not many tribes, and the ones that were there did not seem very different from each other. It was like a cultural buffet where everything tasted more or less the same, but without the possibility of choosing a new dish.
And that was my journey. A lot of suffering, some fights, and a couple of awkward marriage proposals. But at least I managed to survive.
Name: Izu Evermore.
Age: 10 years.
Year: 5000 BC.
Height: 1.40 meters.
Ten years passed in the blink of an eye. My appearance had not changed in the slightest. I was still a nine year old boy, at least physically. But my mind, my experience, everything had evolved.
I had spent an entire decade traveling from the depths of the Amazon to Canada, crossing thousands of kilometers in conditions that would make any adult tremble. But I, I was superior.
Now, as for my clothes, they were somewhat more decent, thanks to my arrival at what would later become the United Nations, where, somehow, I managed to acquire something I never imagined. Deerskin.
Nothing fancy, but oh well, it was what I had.
My outfit consisted of a large brown cloak, hand stitched all over, as if I had nothing better to do with my life. The pants were short, knee length, because, of course, nineties fashion did not exist in the Amazon.
And the shoes. Well, calling them shoes would be generous. They were ten layers of thick fabric, one on top of the other, so I would not get all the sharp edges digging into my skin as I walked.
I assure you that the pain of stepping on something sharp was more intense than any pain you have ever felt. But I survived, as always.
Although the clothing was not the biggest improvement, at least now I had a weapon.
I used the bones of a moose. Yes, moose are giants, not the tiny ones you see in internet videos.
These animals can grow to over two meters in length, and after hunting one, I found its bones to be quite strong. With that, I crafted a spear which, despite not being made of forged steel, was still more effective than many things I saw around.
Sure, the point was made of rock, because I had no idea how to find metal. But who needs metal when you have elk bones and an iron will?
In fact, I was considering traveling to China around 2000 BC to learn blacksmithing so I could forge my own weapon. Who knows, maybe in a few years I would be a master blacksmith, or perhaps I would become the first and only immortal smith.
But anyway, let us leave aside my plans to master blacksmithing and get back to my appearance.
My hair was tied back with a piece of cloth, gathered in a high ponytail that reached halfway down my back. I no longer knew if people saw me as a boy or a girl, and in fact, some tribes mistook me for a girl several times.
Although, thinking about it, that was not so unusual. I had already been in situations where I was mistaken for a girl, and somehow, they always let me go without asking too many questions. How convenient.
A few funny anecdotes aside, I had finally built a canoe. Yes, a canoe. Right on a Canadian beach.
It was time to cross the ocean.
My goal was clear. Reach Europe, cross the continent, and finally arrive in Africa, and from there, Egypt.
I knew it would be a long journey that would take decades, but at least I was no longer in a hurry. Time, it seemed, was on my side, since I was immortal and all that.
The strangest thing about all this is that, in all my years of traveling, I had not encountered any supernatural beings. No mythological monsters, no vengeful spirits, nothing like that.
And frankly, I was happy about that. I did not want to get involved in that kind of trouble.
Now, I just wanted to earn some money, explore the world, and continue living, although not exactly like a normal kid.
So, with my canoe full of dried fruit and other provisions that would not spoil quickly, I embarked on my journey across the ocean.