Why not a memoir?

I’ll admit I’ve had an interesting life full of adventure in the modern sense of that word. Not everyone spends over ten years living abroad and immersed in another culture (I came to understand jokes, songs, and dreamed in Spanish—I’ve only read Garcia Marquez in the original Castellano). Not everyone spends a night sleeping in a Sibundoy Indian chief’s house next to two girls (don’t get any lecherous ideas there—it was too cold for hanky-panky, and two anthropologists were in the next room)...