New passport please

My, am I out of my South American energy or what?! Not only did I forget how to dissolve any plan into endless talking and more talking, but also the ethics of sharing everything up to the last bread crumb seems to have been sucked into a black hole of comfort and commercial abundance. But don’t despair my reader, maybe things are not as bad as they seem. After all, didn’t I keep you waiting for this post for about two months in a rather impressive outburst of “mañana, mañana”? So with sincere apologies and a warm smile, here is a new story of an old adventure.

The teachers are back
As you may have understood by now, I was in high need for a crash course on de-Dutchification and re-Latinization. And as luck had it I was in good hands. An endless train ride past countless villages shrinking by the kilometer deposited me right in front of the backpacks of my Argentinean friends Lucas and Julieta. This happy couple tackles life with energy and optimism. Their contagious warmth could charm the worst of grumps. And best of all: they seem to pop up everywhere you look. This time we met in the hinterlands of Cataluña, from where we planned to take a bus to Siurana, a sleepy village with no more than 25 inhabitants, somewhere on top of a plateau. And also one of the most beautiful sport climbing locations in Europe.

Lesson 1: renounce risk averse lifestyle
Who needs the comfort and security of public transport anyhow? Win-all-or-lose-all hitch hiking holds the future! So off we went to a random street corner in the general direction of Siurana, happily enjoying the sun and joking about. Enthusiastically we set about sticking out thumbs to cyclists and offering cookies to over-full cars, earning ourselves full points for effort. Unfortunately we received zero point for getting a ride. Two more locations and too much valuable daylight time later we were still clustering at the side of the road. And apparently there was a good reason for our lack of success. As an intrigued dog-owner explained us we were in the wrong spot… oops. But remember the travel manual my reader: you need to believe in good luck! A talk and many laughs later, that very same man took pity on us poor fools and drove us to the inland turnoff: a roundabout in the middle of fields and forest. Where good luck continued as we jumped into the next car after only a few minutes of asphalt meditation. And guess what? Our next driver impulsively decided on an hour detour and took us all the way up to the Siurana campsite, thus saving us from a 7 kilometer uphill hike. Only drawback: no space for a supermarket stop, and therefore no food for the weekend. Oops number two, to be ignored in good style.

Lesson 2: unintentionally charm every person you meet
One of the most important skills to acquire for any aspiring nomad is to talk and chat and laugh at the slightest provocation, thus bonding with the defenseless subject. Julieta and Lucas are true and honest masters of this art. Saying goodbye to our last chauffeur was a breathtaking exercise of postponement upon delay upon lingering, as we slowly drifted further and further apart. So can you imagine how saying hello to the campsite girl went? Thirty minutes later found us talking about her life at the campsite and the village below. An hour on the clock, we managed to check the different lodging options. But wait, we didn’t know her name yet, introduction just had to be made! And ah yes, register, of course, but definitely not without discussing our lives as well. And then there was the menu, no way to skip that one. All in all, we put our backpacks on the attic floor no sooner than two hours later, but full of smiles and good energy. There we were about to meet our roommates for the weekend. And the other campsite guests. And the owners. And… well, you get the picture.

Lesson 3: share, share more, share it all!
With a blush of shame on my cheeks I have to admit I had lost the travel energy more than I realized at the time. As you may remember, we found ourselves on top of a plateau without food. No man overboard though, as the campsite sold bread. But without topping, a white baguette wasn’t a very solid basis for a good day of climbing. No despair though, as usual good fortune offered a solution: the girl from the campsite gave us some butter and we found half a jar of raspberry jam in the communal kitchen. So, barely believing our luck, I happily collected the jar for our breakfast. To the sheer shock of my Argentineans. How could I simply take that jam along? How about the other people at the campsite? Wouldn’t they want any jam? Well, the foresight of losing that jam to someone else - who surely would confiscate the jam at first sight - wasn’t very tempting to me, as I explained them. My words only seemed to increase their disbelief. And suddenly everything clicked into place: how much had I changed in those past nine months back home! Again, my head was full with tomorrow’s worries, barricading the impulse to share with fears of being left with too little for myself. While traveling, sharing was the base line. No matter how much I gave away, someone else would always be kind enough to share his or her last bite, thus keeping the sharing system alive. Time for a change: from now on sharing was back.

Lesson 5: thou shalt mate at all times
With the food issue solved, I (naively, shame on me again!) assumed we were ready to get our hands on some of that Siurana rock as soon as possible. Shock number two for Julieta and Lucas, lesson number five for me. No self respecting Argentinean will leave his or her place of dwelling before overdosing on mate tea. An especially important point to the firmly addicted Lucas. So back to the table I was steered, with a thermos of hot water in one hand and mate herbs in the other. In between sips receiving indispensible training on water temperatures, pouring styles, waiting time between refills, and miscellaneous mate etiquette. And no, we certainly didn’t leave within fifteen minutes, and most definitely not without a refilled thermos for further mate later that day.

Lesson 6: befriend all
What better place to make friends than the rock face? After all, all climbers are cross-bred hippies of some sort, no matter how proper they look in their parallel urban lives. So in between climbing c.q. grunting, we practiced European Spanish with a handful of Catalans and exchanged niceties with hikers with big backpacks. Next we met up with our German roommate, with whom we shared chitchat, food and more mate. We got to know a North-American couple, waved at the usual French, and had countless encounters with less-identifiable passer-bys. And with the help of the sunny weather, lesson 6 was the easiest lesson by far. Feeling strong, I was ready for the next lesson – or so I thought.

Lesson 7: change plans, randomly or reasonably
Sitting at the cliff face in our T-shirts, little did we know that the rain would be passing our window horizontally the next morning. And unfortunately breakfast brought us no hope whatsoever, as neither the clouds nor the weather forecast gave any sign of clearing up. So although we had spent less than forty hours in Siurana, we decided on a forced evacuation to Barcelona. With the rain, more climbers had decided to head down the mountain and one of our Germans kindly dropped us off at the train station. From where we set off, back to civilization, with no idea where we’d stay or what we’d do.

The diploma
Ah Barcelona, you silenced this insignificant wanderer. I could write pages about your zigzagging narrow streets and countless tourist traps. And even tough your overpricing only allowed us simple mortals to admire the outsides walls of Gaudi’s marvels, beautiful walls they were. But do you know what? The thing I’ll remember most of you, was the acknowledgement I received for my hard work, the fruit of my labor if you will. Somewhere, hidden in one on the twists of your bowels, my hostel roommate assumed I was Argentinean. Lo and behold: call the embassy and get me my new passport! Or at least get me my own mate set… And no matter how unlikely, thus it came to be. After nine months of searching I re-found my inner South-American. And in an odd twist of faith, I finally ran in to the mate set I forgot to buy in Argentina.

The schooling complete, Lucas, Julieta and I hugged goodbye, and off I went to the next destination. Alone again but with renewed energy to share and spread. One more week remained before I was to meet my friends in the south of Spain. So mañana more adventures my reader. Till then!