Entries about adventure

After months in Mexico City I ached for some movement. So when friends in Berlin confirmed my spot working in Fusion, I jumped at the chance.
Here's some of the things I learnt this past month in Germany:

Learn the language!
Smile no matter what.
Life is better with good shoes.
Friends make everything be worth it.
Open skies, stars, fire, and a blanket.
Sometimes, umbrellas are unavoidable.
Hammocks are grossly underrated.
Gemütlichkeit.

Fusion Festival is a place of joy, vegetarian food, any kind of music and good vibes. It is awesome and great. There's fire spitting dragons and hammocks and more fire. If I get the chance, I'll be there next year too. It is a huge festival, with some 70 000 attendees this year, and you can very easily lose your group. So people carry poles, decorated umbrellas or just any kind of funky tall thing to find themselves. I would just wander alone, then meet back at camp or in our designated meeting points. Yes, I would recommend it. It was awesome!

Dragons!

Summer!

Too soon the week was over and we were back home. Berlin's the only place I've been to every time I've been to Europe. That's only three times, sure, but three makes a pattern. I could certainly spend more time there, but everyone says very nasty things about the Berlin winter, and I don't feel like proving them wrong... So maybe next summer?

When travelling it is very easy to meet people, at least when you get in the mood. I find it a curious thing that first approach, when you must make clear you don't speak the language, without being that guy that expects everyone else to speak his. After the Festival I met some boat builders and travelled north, to Kiel. I know resin and wood, so maybe they had some work I could assist them with. After all, almost half of it is sanding! It is a nice city, Kiel. I mocked the summer, though. "It's like 15 degrees outside, they said, yep, summer alright!". Well it felt like a cold spring to me, but I guess we are just too spoilt in the tropics.

On a borrowed bike I went further north up to Arnis. "Statt" Arnis. It was exactly what I needed. For a week I stayed there, in a small town of some 300 people, enjoying life.

Arnis is located next to the Schlei, a fjord, so connected to the Baltic Sea, but feels like a lake. It is a great place for little walks and fine sailing. The water is cold and salty, delicious to swim in. Skinny dipping is not frowned upon either.

For such a small place it is very touristy. There is a ferry there, you see, and lots of people cross it on cars and bikes. So while you wait for the ferry to come, why not have some coffee? Between the ferry stop and one of many little piers, there sits the Freies Arnis Café. Not a bad place to spend your time! I even ended up working there for a couple of days, helping with the dishes. And working helps with the language skills. After a month and some basic mp3 course, I could almost begin to understand things. Guess life might not be too short to learn German after all!

I made good friends there, in the north. Slept under the stars, sailed and cooked chilaquiles. I left promising to come back and I intend to keep that promise. I even left my tent over there! But it was time to move on.

Arriving in Rotterdam felt incredible. "This is what coming home should feel like", reads my journal. A friend was having a birthday party, so I had a reason to be there. I wasn't the cross-the-world kind of epic, but still in that department. Up until the moment I stood at their doorstep, they still believed I could be joking. It had been a year since last time I stood there. So long, yet it felt like barely a week had passed.

Then after beers with friends, meetings, catching ups, dancing, biking, and a few more beers, I left for Mexico.
The truth is, you see, I shouldn't have gone to Europe. Left on a whim, with barely any savings, and just a tiny possibility of working in Belgium. Since that didn't come through, I'm now in the red numbers. But hey, what's life without a little adventure? On that note people, take my word, never book stopovers with less than an hour between flights. I have now been one of those pale faced airport runners. It is not as fun as it looks.

But I made it back, and now some plans are brewing. Looks like soon I'll have something to write home about!
For now, thanks for reading!

Travel is more than an arbitrary change of scenery, its more than just going from here to there.
It is an experience; an adventure.

What is adventure, then?

Once I read Georg Simmel defining it as an experience so outside the normal routine, so different to the usual way of life as to, when finished (because it must finish), constitute a dream-like memory. Once over, an adventure is not much more than a tale ready for retelling and embellishment.

I believe this definition is missing something: an adventure, to be considered such, must risk one's life... It need not do so in a physical way though. In spanish, an affair is often referred to as an adventure. An affair may not risk one's life in any biological sense, but it certainly jeopardizes a way of life. Some adventures are so because in them we discover other ways of life, and wish for a moment there was no reason for going back to ours.

Much has been written about the difference between the tourist and the traveller. The way I see it, such difference lies in the word itself: tourist. A tour, in french, is a circuit, a turn or twist, some circular path. A tour ends where it begins, and so, a tourist will visit a few places, then come back home. A traveller, however, can never go back, she can only go forward.

When the trip finishes the tourist returns home, finding nothing much has changed, falling back to the routine. The views, beaches and drinks become blurry, a simple adventure, a dream. Real life takes over, continues.

But sometimes, it doesn't. An adventure may lead to another, trains may follow each other and what started off as a round trip, well, just goes on. Travelling, as the traveller experiences it, is more of a way of life. It does not simply end. A journey may encompass many smaller trips, tours, arrivals and departures. One may stay still for a week, a month or a year, but soon feelings arise. Some languages have special words for this. Wanderlust, anomie or fernweh but a few. The nostalgia for faraway places and distant friendships is not easily quenched.

I know this, for I am there.

It's been almost six months since my return to the City. There's been some trying, some good and other awesome moments.
I missed my friends while away, so I gathered some of them to live under the same roof.
For almost two years I spent every full moon at a different place. I've now spent this past ones not only in the same bed, but beside the same person.
Academically too, I am finally where I had projected to be. After a four year struggle, I can finally move on to my thesis, and leave that university phase behind. Wouldn't that be something?

And yet, I can hear the call of the horizon and ache for the road. Soon.

I did say travel is an adventure. And I also said adventures end.
Just, not quite yet.

I have a bed, a room, a car, and responsibilities to attend to. So I guess I live here now!

Everything is the same, yet all is different. Coming to live again in the house we got when the family first arrived in the city, was not exactly as expected. It is not the place it was then. No more bougainvilleas hang from the side, I was surprised to be greeted by tall bamboo bush out front, and the once little lime tree sapling now bears its fruit proudly. It's been about twelve years since that first time, and over three years since I last lived here. No, being here didn't nearly feel so much like stepping into the past as I thought it would.

Coming back, stopping, settling down (for however long) is also a part of the journey, just as the planning phase is too.
Time is different on the road and off it. The feeling of urgency, I have found, is very different to what you find in daily city life. When travelling I knew not the feeling of hurry. Except for the occasional train departure or date of arrival, I could take my time for anything. Writing, drawing or drinking coffee, I spent as long as I wanted or required. Nevertheless, everything had a strong sense of immediacy. A constant "now or never" aura surrounded each action, every castle visit or kiss. The things left for later were forgotten. The museums left for some other time will have to wait for another trip, if ever. It is a life in every breath kind of existence.
City life, however, feels the other way around. It takes so long to get from one place to another, and there are so many things to do, that life passes in a constant state of hurry. Not even the best of books will make time spent in traffic feel less wasted. And yet, not much gets done at a time. Nothing is immediate, but must be programmed days in advance, then confirmed the previous evening and probably that same morning too. If I want to see someone, we must arrange for a meeting during their lunch hour, or wait for the weekend, when they are "free". There is little room for improvisation, for the now.
Projects take long to come through, but then again, they can be done. While travelling, one cannot build. It felt like I was laying down a brick every time I learned someone's name, each time I stole a kiss or heart, or found the right place to spend my time. Yet a brick does not make a house, and when the storm arrives, one needs the shelter... I guess that's what made me come back to Mexico. In terms of country, I feel here as much a foreigner as anywhere else; but this is the place where I have spent more time building a foundation of friendship and love.

So I arrived, and spread the contents of my backpack on my old desk. Things from here and there, stuff that reminds me of certain people, places or moments. Coins, bills and postcards, even some things that stayed hidden inside the pack for months at a time, even the whole year.
I spread out my trip on the surface, organized it, put it away, then started this new chapter of this journey...

I've been biking a lot this past few weeks. It might not be Rotterdam, but still you can bike in Mexico City. It's my way of dodging some of the traffic, and therefore the ire of the streets; the potholes are just part of the adventure. And it keeps me fit and alert. With the stress, altitude and smog, you kinda need it.
One reason I came back to the city faster, instead of my original plan of moving slowly up from Cancun to Mexico City (a good 2000km via Chiapas), was that my sister needed some help home. But now she's back in Barcelona, for good this time, leaving me in charge of house and cats. It is interesting sometimes to experience the other side too. To be the one that stays behind. But, for how long?

People tell me how finishing their studies felt like a big weight fell off their shoulders... I did not feel such a weight, but when analyzing the costs/benefits of it all, I decided to stay here a while and try to get it over with. So lets see how that goes!

When you journal, the level of detail in the descriptions depends greatly on the time passed between entries. What would be most important in a day, may be but a fleeting comment in a week, or even ignored in a monthly review. Today, and because of the past days, I believe I must not follow this trend, and revisit every day. So this might be a long post.

Saturday

Last time I saw my wallet was in Istanbul bus station. That’s all I can say for certain. Seven hours later I arrived in Plovdiv, and set out to my usual wanderings. I did not have a place to spend the night there, but it was still nighttime, having arrived there before the sun. Still plenty of time to figure it out.
So I crossed Plovdiv and its old town, walking up to a hill and enjoying the view. It was a cold morning in a new country. I could already see the contrasts. Different shades of green and cats ran away from me. Not in Istanbul anymore! Still unsure whether to spend the night or exit the city and start stretching the thumb, I came down from the hill and resolved to concentrate on the moment: get some food. That’s when I realized my acute lack of wallet.

Now, had I not couchsurfed, hitchhiked and backpacked before, or well, had I not been me, there would have been frustration and fright and negative feelings. I guess. I just took it as fact. “I have no wallet. No money nor way of getting any. This will not stop me.” So I backtracked to a friendly hostel and asked if I could use their internet, and explained my situation. They gave me wifi and breakfast. This allowed me to cancel my cards and assess my situation. I would have to trust in people and goodwill. In fact, I had no choice.

As I wrote and called, next to me sat a family. As it usually happens in this kind of setting, we started talking and eventually I told them of my plight. I got sympathetic smiles and good-lucks. But later, when getting ready to leave, one of them came to me: “We’re going to Sofia—she said—you can come with us if you want. You have a couple of minutes to decide!” Well, it is my personal policy to not say no to this kind of offers and opportunities, and told her so; so of course I came with them. An interesting group they were: a boy of 14, two of 16, a girl of 9 and another of 18. The adults were three old friends, the two mothers and a male. It took me a while to figure out their story, who was son of who, but on the highway, there was plenty of time! And we did not go straight to Sofia either. First stop was Hisarya, the Roman walls and mineral hot baths. In that rainy, cold day, those baths were bliss!

I learned during the day that I had not come in the best of times to Bulgaria. It was Saturday, yes, but not any of them, it was Easter Saturday in the Orthodox Calendar. That’s why the three friends were together, coming from Berlin and London all the way to Sofia, visiting friends and family. That’s why they were out on a road trip! And that’s why, when the day ended, I found myself in Yana’s aunt and uncle’s home. Yana was mother of three of the kids, a yoga instructor and Vipassana student. She took me in with her family, and gave me a place to spend the night. I saw with her another side to Easter: one of joy, community, family and love. I had homemade raki and ate Easter bread with hot cocoa. We clashed coloured eggs. I think I’ve never won an egg joust. We walked with candles in the street, greeted the neighbours on the way to church and back. No one cared whether I believed or not. No one cared whether I belonged or not. And so, in smiles and warmth, I could barely recall that just that morning I had arrived with no wallet from Istanbul.

Sunday

I left Yana’s house sometime in the afternoon. I did not want to be too much of a burden. And I had a mission. Two years before I had left something in a hostel, and being back in Sofia, it would be a shame if I did not at least ask… So I made my way to the Hostel Mostel, to ask them if, by any chance, my phone was still there.
Of course it wasn’t. It was two years! But wouldn’t it have been awesome to find it?

The good thing was that, on the way there I met some staff of the Art Hostel, and was told to come to their bar. So I got a warm place to hang out and even some food (some Bulgarian meatcake with yogurt!). Everyone I met was sympathetic to my case, I mean, it’s not like I’d gambled my savings. They’d just walked away. While dozing in the bar I heard Spanish, and couldn’t resist the conversation. Turned out to be an Erasmus student and her local friend, wonderful people too. I had already resigned myself to leaving at first light, in the cold, so when I was offered a bed in a dusty spare room I hesitated for a moment. Only for a moment.

Monday

I woke in that spare room after a night of chatting and laughter, and looked around me. No wonder they called this “the dead guy’s room”. Full of books and notes and randomness, some oblivious socialist paraphernalia, other very personal, like a boxes full of letters and postcards. I rummaged through most of it. Took a couple of unwritten postcards from the seventies with me, no one will miss them.
Eventually I left to hitchhike, fashioned myself a sign, and prepared to leave Sofia. A bit over an hour of waiting later, I was joined by Velin, another hitchhiker. He later told me that he had just passed next to me on a city bus, going to his usual spot, but when he saw me there, smiling so happily with my little sign, he just decided to come with me. I quickly recognized in him a friend. Sometimes you do so, just by the look in the eyes, you know to be among equals.

In two rides we got to Veliko Tarnovo. The first a simple, usual ride, with a nice guy, software designer going not too far, took us there and a bit further. The second ride though, was the strangest I’ve ever had. They were lovely people, a very nice and friendly couple. It’s just that I never thought I’d ever be picked up by a deaf couple. I could not talk with them, and although they could read Velin’s lips. All I could do was perform my interpretative dance and smile wide. They even gave us Easter bread. I have no idea what their names are.
In Veliko, Velin asked around and got me a place to sleep in a little funky hotel. For free as well. All in goodwill. Warm shower and a soft bed, wifi and homeliness. I had not touched money in three days.

At some point during the day Velin had asked me why I hadn’t asked some friend or family to wire me some money through Western Union or something. I had no answer. I realized the thought had not even crossed my mind. So sure I was that I could make it with no money, that I forgot there were other options. I resolved to look into this once in Bucharest.

Tuesday

So well rested, I set out for Romania. A two hour hike got me out of Veliko Tarnovo and into thumbing position. It was a nice day and in some twenty minutes a young road-tripping couple picked me up. They actually drove past me at first, but turned around and came back for me! A delightful ride, we stopped at a little ancient monastery carved in the rock, then they left me on Ruse.

I thought it was a smaller town, but it took me a good three hours to walk through it and get to the Danube. Here it turns out you cannot cross the bridge on foot, so I got a ride from one end of the Friendship Bridge to the other. And then, off to Bucharest! Finally I was in Romania! Gruialand at last. I had wanted to visit Romania because why not, because I’d missed it two years before, and because of some stories by Gheorghe Gruia, my former handball coach. So I was finally there! And with no money or a place to sleep!

I could have probably gotten a place to sleep. I was asked about it and half-offered a place by a Chilean family at the McDonalds (they serve some of the best wifi out there). But I was for some reason betting all my cards at volunteering at a hostel. I had particularly the X Hostel in mind. I met the owner/CEO and everything. But sometimes you go all in and win, sometimes you go all in and lose. Turned out the hostel had been invaded by a roving band of young dutch people. Fifty-some of them. There was simply no place for anyone else! Even the staff were sleeping in the storage room for the week. They did take my backpack for me though, so I was free to roam the streets.

So then, what to do if I don’t have a place to sleep? Well I don’t sleep, of course! For a night or two nothing will happen. I’m a designer after all. All that training in not sleeping did finally pay off while travelling. And then some.
The height of the night occurred when, sitting in a Kebap shop, munching on my travel rations and last Easter bread, a girl sat on the next table. Smile. Then her friend, a long haired, big guy, all in black joined her and they started talking. I could hear English. Eventually we started chatting, then suddenly she offered: “Can I invite you somewhere?” She handed me a flyer, I could make out something about a student discount to somewhere. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to pay any entry fee! I’ll invite you.” I had already said yes before turning the flyer around and realizing what it was I had said yes to.

I’d never been to a Strip Bar before. I've always known that it’s not my kind of place. I have now confirmed it. But if I was ever to enter one, this was the best way to do it. Turned out I was invited to the place by one of the girls, Anna, and I was the only “customer” there. On the way I had told her and Barry the security guard, of my peculiar penniless situation. This did not matter, for as there was no one else, we could just chat and enjoy not being out in the cold. I think I was the first man ever to drink tea at that place. Anna even gave me some bananas to eat, and chocolate—all she could find in the backstage. She performed a bit as well, and pole danced. I was amazed by her ability and strength! Barry agreed, “I’m mostly here for the looks” he said, “This girls can fend for themselves!” I would not like to get in a fight with any of them. Those legs can break you in two.

Barry had once been a martial arts master, and firefighter in the ‘States. After all the misery and pain he’s seen on car crashes, gang fights and fire victims, spending his nights surrounded by topless girls is as good a retirement plan as any. This was not a big strip club, just a little corner bar, with everyone relaxed and happy. Not a bad place to spend some time with nice people. The fact that most of them are topless doesn't hurt either. They even let me have a shower in the massage room. And then it was back to wandering.

Wednesday

When it was day again I walked back to the X Hostel. Came just in time for the Dutch group’s breakfast. Even helped with some dutch-english-spanish-romanian translation. When there’s big groups, there’s big leftovers. I had breakfast, lunch, and refilled my travel rations. It was delicious. What the staff could not offer me in accommodation they gave in welcoming. If I had money I’d consider staying there. But for now, we're Couchsurfing!

That night I got a place to sleep. A couch, a cat and food. Music too, although it wasn't too much to the taste of Andra, my host. A musician herself, she is picky with what she listens to. I would love to hear her medieval music band. I stayed three nights with her, met her friends, chatted with her boyfriend. They all reminded me of my group of friends in Mexico, talking about music, magic and board games. Sometimes you meet these random people halfway around the world, who come from a completely different background, and yet you realize that you are the same.

Friday

Fearing and caring for me as only a mother can do, my mom offered to get me out of my penniless state, and wired me some euros. She sent them to me sometime Thursday, but by I only could get them on Friday. Gratefully, the first thing I did after getting them was walk into a library-café, sit on a small table by the street window, and buy me some coffee.

How long could I have kept it going? There is an impressive amount of people out there, willing to share all they have with a stranger, just because he needs it. Just because he asks and smiles. I have discovered that my story is an inspiring one: people have approached me just because I look happy, and want to hear the stories that make me smile and dance with no music, even on gloomy days and lonely nights.

That first day in Bucharest, I was approached by a French man. A math teacher, he dreams of leaving his fears behind, grab a backpack and see the world. After some minutes of talking, he put it better than I ever could:

"I saw you there and I had to talk to you. You just seemed so happy, I wanted to know how you do it. Now I understand. You are happy because you are free."

“Where do you live?” A girl asked. “I live here, now. I live where I’m living” I smartly replied. “Yes, but where’s your home?
Ah. Now that’s the question, isn’t it?

I must say, Turkey felt amazingly like home. The comfortable level of chaos everywhere, the ever surrounding beauty… Having my sister there only helped reinforce the impression. She agreed: Mexico and Turkey are disturbingly similar. Maybe not at the surface level (and sometimes at that too), but on a deep level, they are very much alike.

With her, I revisited Istanbul, experiencing everything again as new, through her eyes and wonder. It's a great place that city, in every sense of the word. The buildings, the people. Smiles everywhere, good food and Cats! Everywhere! Not just mangy strays, no. Both street dogs and cats look well fed and reasonably safe. They are not afraid of humans, and many enjoy being petted by strangers and tourists day in and out. There was even a happy cat enjoying the views, inside the Hagia Sophia! So not just the architecture, but the whole atmosphere is very much worth the visit. Its awesome.

So for a week I was with my sister, walking around the old district of Istanbul, drinking tea and coffee and catching up. Last I saw had seen her was September 2013, and a lot had happened since! But not all was reminiscence. Together we spent a couple of days in the great grey city of Ankara, government town, and in the land of fairy houses and magic called Cappadocia. Completely different, both places were incredible.

First in Ankara, I brought Irazú, my sis, to Atatürk's museum. I wanted her to know who was that face that stares at you anywhere in Turkey. I feel a deep respect for the man that he was and all that he accomplished. So that was the official tourist business. After that, the personal started: we made our way to the outskirts of town to be at a friend's wedding. It was not what I expected. It turned out, the wedding was divided in two: the official, legal wedding one day, in Ankara, and the party event, a week later, in Trabzon. That is, on the other side of the country. Among the travellers, Trabzon is renowned as the to-go place for an Iranian visa. So yes, its all the way east, almost in Iran! And with my sister leaving from Istanbul soon, It would imply crossing two thousand kilometers in a couple of days. After much consideration, I decided not to go. Not an easy call.
But I get ahead of myself. For before all this, and after the wedding event, we ended hanging out and crashing with the wedding musicians and having a late night of beers, music and locals. Oh, those lovely turkish eyes...

But time was short, so then we went for a day and a bit more to Cappadocia. In particular, to the town of Göreme, place of magic and wonder. Due to its particular geological characteristics, it has evolved some interesting rock formations. They are called the Fairy houses, and with good reason! People no longer live in them, or at least cannot carve new holes into them, but they still stand testament to what was. No pictures can really convey the feeling of the cold wind rushing and whistling among the natural towers, or the relief when leaving the confined spaces of an underground city. Or chatting with a turkman over some chai, in the middle of nowhere, and with nothing but beauty in sight. We could have flown on a hot air balloon, or slept inside a comfy cave. But that will have to wait for a season with more dineros.

It could have been a longer stay. It should have. But it wasn't. And so we both left Turkey. The second visit is now over. It lasted little over ten days, though it could have been much, much longer. But I was itching to start the journey north. So I got on a bus to Plovdiv, Bulgaria. Leaving Turkey felt like yet a new start, as if a new chapter, a new adventure started to unfold, with the Asia stories at rest for now...

Two years before, when I left Istanbul for Sofia, a pair of very quick and gentle hands stole my camera (freakin' gypsies!). I decided not to think of it and instead started writing and drawing more. This very blog might be the result of that. So I wonder if anything will come of a new development... Starting a disturbing pattern, after arriving in Plovdiv and when I decided it was enough walking and coffee was required, I realized my wallet was gone. Gone to live her own story, somewhere far from me. She took my bank cards though. So not only did I lose my money, but also the ability to get any more.
Now that sucks.
So I'm in Bulgaria, with no money whatsoever, not even a single euro, and I still intend to make my way to Poland. I intended to Couchsurf, hitchhike and work here and there... I was just expecting to have other options too!!

So lets see how this little adventure develops! I know there will be cold and hunger. But heck, that will pass too. And summer is coming.
Hold on to your wallets!