I am a first generation Texan, citizen of the land that Nunez stumbled upon when his raft wrecked on what is now Galveston Island, a mere 483 years ago. Nunez became a slave and prisoner of the Han and Capoque clans of the Karankawa Indians for the first two years after his arrival in Texas. During his imprisonment, he progressed with the clans gaining status and power from his activities as a merchant and particularly his skills as a healer (Núnez 45). Even with this small gain in status that he made, life was still hard for him as a slave, “When it happened that these or any people we had left behind gave us a piece of meat, we ate it raw. Had we put it to roast, the first native who came along would have filched it” (Núnez 48). Receiving scraps of meat and still having it taken from you if you would cook them; that must have been infuriating. Through his readings, I almost felt connected to Álvar Núñez. We may not be related nor are we friends but he is someone I always enjoy reading about. His journeys that his life took him through always keep me entertained. His nine-year journey where he wandered lost and not knowing anyone, and the interesting people he met along the way must have had a huge impact on him. His stories are always so rich in detail, he constantly found ways to pick up a paintbrush and draw what he is writing in my head. “Three months out of every year they eat nothing but oysters and drink very bad water. Wood is scarce; mosquitoes, plentiful. The houses are made of mats; their floors consist of masses of oyster shells” (Núnez 46). I can truly picture the houses made of mats filled with oyster shell floors. Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca and myself have a few things in common. We both come from Spanish roots, Núñez as a natural born Spaniard and myself having some Spanish blood running through my veins, thanks to my grandfather. My grandfather was a full-blooded Spaniard, who actually did spend s