I'm an Italian living in Brazil. Why? Because I'm the owner of my destiny.

Growing up on the island of Sardinia, I didn't see much excitement around me. The average expectation was getting a regular job and living a regular life.

I found myself not fitting into such a philosophy. I wanted more and I had no idea of what 'more' meant to me.

A perfect state of mind to take an unpredicted decision: - follow the steps of Ulisses and the others and become a pioneer of myself and the world. 
First and foremost, I had to accomplish two things: finishing High School and joining the Italian Army, not for a choice, of course, but because it was compulsory at the time.

I successfully managed to accomplish the second one. And what about High School Gian Mario? Well, I didn't feel I fit in too. I was getting old and failing year after year, and my self-esteem was quite low as far as my understanding of education.

I didn't know what I wanted to do in life. I knew what I didn't want. That is, living in Sardinia and not working in the insurance agency, the family business.  

This could have discouraged many people, not me. I'm gmp. I always believed that I was interestingly uncommon, hence unique.

'gmp' are the initials of my name, Gian Mario Pintus. It represents me in my essence and I use it as a sort of trademark. So people around me are accustomed to its deep meaning. I jokingly say to them: "You write it with small letters and read it with capital letters". As to say, I'm humble but I have very strong confidence in myself.

After a brainwashing conversation with a few friends of mine, somebody suggested we ought to go to London. She had an uncle who owned a few hotels and we could work in one of them. That was enough to sparkle adrenaline and imagination.

The images of Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, and Wembley Stadium that I had seen in my English books suddenly crossed my mind. Yes! I could picture myself with the soundtrack "Gonna Fly Now" Rocky's Philadelphia run to the Philadelphia Museum of Art stairs and eventually raising my hands to the sky. I made it! I'm great! Yeah!

That was what I needed to fire the desire. I went to a travel agency and I made my first one-way ticket to a foreign country. In two weeks I would be walking in London town, I would be free.

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July 1994

On the plane, I was surprisingly calm. I should have been worried, to say the least. I was traveling by myself, my English was poor and a total mess. I didn't know anybody there, I didn't book a hotel, and I had just two telephone numbers: Alitalia and the Italian Embassy. And yet, for some reason, the song "Another Day in Paradise" started to play in my mind. After a two-hour flight, I got to Gatwick. It was night and I decided to sleep over at the airport. Well, actually I didn't really sleep. I had to keep an eye on my two large pieces of luggage. The next morning, I took a train to Victoria Station and I remember vividly the look of the many hundreds/thousands of people who were looking at me passing through with my baggage. Yes, I was catching the attention of many - London I'm coming, I thought. The truth is that one of my luggage had an excruciating squeaking noise that was hearable miles and miles away. I'm sure people stopped and stood there just to see where this noise was coming from and who was the brave being capable of such indignity. There I was, hovering a few inches from the ground. I'm free! - I thought, I smiled.I walked like I couldn't care less about the turmoil I was causing in an already noisy station in itself. To make it even more picturesque, I had my cowboy boots on and I felt like Jon Voight in the film "Midnight Cowboy" (1969) with the song "Everybody's talkin'" playing in my head. The noise was only interrupted, at times, when the luggage fell on the ground, and I had to lift it to continue my journey, my journey to freedom. We are talking about a legit 80's cheap hard luggage, with a stripe to pull on the top side of it. Since it was very full, it balanced all the time and repeatedly off it went on the ground. And the other bag did too.So it was like "squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick...boom...squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick, squick...boom. This could have discouraged many people, not me. I'm gmp. I saw in the distance an Information Desk and checked if there was a little Italian flag that suggested that somebody spoke Italian. The clerk was very calm and helpful and made a booking for me at a hostel in East London. She explained how to use 'the tube' and off I went. One step at a time, closer and closer to victory. When I reached the hostel, I was given a bed in a room to share with 8 beds. These bunked beds were arranged like drawers, one facing north and the other west. I decided to make good use of my one-day travel card so I went to central London. I randomly walked and I visited Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Oxford Street, Carnaby Street, etc...I went back to the hostel and I watched the World Champion final Italy - Brazil, lost to Italy in the penalties and memorable was the mistake by Roberto Baggio, the best penalty striker on the field. This could have discouraged many people, not me. I'm gmp. I went to central London again and I was surrounded by happy Brazilian supporters celebrating the victory. I was happy too. I was in London, I was free. I drank a pint or two and I went back to the hostel. The following day I decided to change the hostel. I found another one close to Hyde Park. Now I was ready to look for a job. I knew I could only get menial jobs because of the level of my English. So I started visiting restaurants and hotels offering my services. I had learned a full sentence -" Hi, I'm looking for a job because I want to improve my English". I had a strategy too - if they made a question which I didn't understand, instead of asking to repeat it, which would have shown my lack of basic English, I would observe the visual characteristics of the person: if he/she smiled I would answer "yes" if he/she had a serious look I would answer "no". Not knowing exactly what they asked me. "The less you speak, the less you give away", I thought. I was not having any success. I was not feeding myself properly and I had to keep it cool. The next day I walked in and out of places where I could offer my service. I was tired and upset, so I decided to go back to the hostel but first I wanted to try a few facilities. I entered an office called 'London Hostels Association'. I greeted and used my sharp full sentence to show off my language skills, I must confess that my strong Italian accent made it sound a bit unnatural. The lady at the reception looked at me and briskly answered no. There I was, getting another no. This could have discouraged many people, not me. I'm gmp. I looked at her, I think I inspired myself to Charlie Champlin's 'A Dog's Life' movie. I lowered my gaze and slowly headed towards the exit. When I was about to open the door she called me and said: "Maybe there is something for you...". A moderate smile opened on my face. She explained I had to go and speak to a hostel manager, gave me the address, and explained how to get there. I arrived at the hostel and used my very long sentence about my reason for looking for a job. As I understood, he needed somebody with better English than me, as the vacancy was about dealing with guests on a daily basis. I lowered my gaze and slowly headed towards the exit, but he said that his colleague was looking for a kitchen boy, called the guy, gave me the address, which was quite near, and off I went.Five minutes later I was there, knocking on one more door. The manager received me, he liked me, called the chef to talk to me and I was offered the position and on top of it, I even had my own bedroom in the hostel!