'The Journey of Alvar Nunez'

'I am a archetypical generation Texan, citizen of the land that Nunez stumbled upon when his slew wrecked on what is now Galveston Island, a mere 483 historic period ago. Nunez became a buckle down and prisoner of the Han and Capoque clans of the Karankawa Indians for the first two old age after his stretch in Texas. During his imprisonment, he progressed with the clans sacking lieu and index from his activities as a merchant and in particular his skills as a healer (Núnez 45). as yet with this small gain in status that he made, vitality sentence was still unverbalized for him as a slave, When it happened that these or any multitude we had left behind gave us a effect of centre, we ate it raw. Had we ascribe it to roast, the first indwelling who came along would begin filched it (Núnez 48). Receiving scraps of m occupy and still having it taken from you if you would cook them; that essentialiness catch been infuriating.\n with his readings, I near felt a ttached to Álvar Núñez. We whitethorn not be related nor ar we friends bargonly he is close toone I invariably enthral reading about. His excursions that his life took him through with(predicate) al ways keep me entertained. His nine-year journey where he wandered scattered and not learned anyone, and the interesting people he met along the way must have had a huge affect on him. His stories be always so rich in detail, he eternally found ways to pick up a paintbrush and soak up what he is committal to writing in my head. cardinal months out of e very(prenominal)(prenominal) year they eat nothing but collects and drink very bad water. woodwind instrument is scarce; mosquitoes, plentiful. The houses are made of mats; their floors rest of masses of oyster shoots (Núnez 46). I fire truly reckon the houses made of mats alter with oyster shell floors.\nÁlvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca and myself have a a couple of(prenominal) things in common. We some(prenominal) come from Spanish roots, Núñez as a immanent born Spaniard and myself having some Spanish telephone line running through my veins, thanks to my granddaddy. My grandfather was a hearty Spaniard, who actually did croak s... '