Al final de …. todo…?

... España, Europe, ...my trip ...???

It has been a while since I wrote my last blog. Several months in which has happened a lot…

Although I haven't been cycling for a month (only one months?? It seems much longer!), this is where I should start this story… So okay, I'll try to concentrate and go back to this time, those days I still spent at least 6, 7, 8 hours on my bike…

It was France where I left you… At that time, beginning of October, it seemed winter had started. I remember the mountains were covered with the first snow. It gave me the feeling that from then on it would be Mister Winter who would be ruling. But, lucky me!, it turned out just to be a short episode of coldness, and a nice Indian Summer followed. I made rapid progress in France, blown by the Mistral, through lavender fields and vineyards, towards the Pyrenees. Crossing the border to Spain made me feel so happy!! Finally I had arrived in the country that I had been dreaming about for such a long time, whose music I listened made me live, dance, laugh, hope… And now I was there…!

And my first 'Spanish' experience immediately set stage… Just across the border I ran into a market. In my (at that time) half forgotten Spanish, I stumbled some words, and the fruit seller just gave me a huge bag of peaches, for free! Wow! This is what I have been missing since the Balkans… (or was it Turkey, where the people had been so friendly?) Singing (practicing my Spanish :) and a big smile on my face, I rode from Girona, Barcelona to Valencia. Everywhere welcomed by some warm showers, perfect to practice some more of their beautiful (but disappointingly difficult) language. And it seemed I had a guardian angel with an umbrella, since each time I reached my destination just in time to let the rain pass.

I had set my mind on the 'always warm and sunny south'; Andalucía. While passing endless orange groves (where the owners probably wouldn't mind if a lonely cyclist took some of their delicious oranges, hanging so temptatious on the trees (and with each new yard they looked even better…), my panniers grew more and more heavy. For this part, I was glad I arrived in the flat highlands of Don Quixote, Albacete, where no oranges would be found, only an endless horizon and (head)wind… At least I could continue cycling without stopping to pick and carry all those orange kilo's…

From Jáen, Granada, to los Pueblos Blancos, passing for the umpteenth time the familiar area of the Huma's de Abdelajís with vista's on El Chorro, it's Toothlake and in the far distance I could see Álora and its Hacho, bringing back memories and a smile of all those weeks (months) passed there years ago as a student. Camping on sport fields, going 'wild' with amazing views of Ronda, very Spanish in olive groves (woken up at 6 a.m. by the farmers, picking olives) and safely in the jardín of a restaurant; my last nights of this freedom I had been living for 16 months. Those last days I rode through the most beautiful part of Andalucía, to finally reach the most southern point of Spain and (mainland) Europe: Tarifa. Almost being blown off the pier, sand polished, I posed for my 'I did it!' pic.

A memorable moment, since for me it implied a transition from my nomadic life, which had become so familiar and careless for me, not having to think about anything, except where to go tomorrow and having enough food, to a sedentary one. Maybe kind of contrary, but for me it implied a much more difficult way if living; instead of traveling, continuing, I suddenly had to make decision; which place would become my new hometown, a job, a house, making friends. But I had made this choice consciously, since it exactly is what I needed after all those months traveling. It was not that I did not want to continue anymore, but it was not as special as 16 month ago. And that was a pity, since for me traveling should be special, should be about wondering, discovering, being excited, curiosity. So I reasoned I needed a place to live, at least for a while, to regain some of this 'first experience energy'. And the best place to fulfill those needs, was where another dream of mine had always been...

Several years ago, a friend of mine had given me a CD with some probably very cheesy, sky-radio like Spanish songs. For me, those songs became to represent my Spanish dream. I remember listening this CD over and over again, fantasizing that one day I would make this step and move to Spain. Now that I'm here, I am in my dream, it turns out to be a normal life as well (What did I expect???), a life you generally don't spend dreaming. But every now and then, I realize that I actually am living my dream, which puts a huge smile on my face! Little moments make me feel this; listening to the cadence of Spanish voices in a bar, walking through my barrio in Granada each time discovering a new Plaza, or helping an abuela crossing the street. And a few days ago, I found the songs of this old CD of mine, and while listening, tears ran over my face, tears of pure happiness! I AM ABLE TO LIVE MY DREAM!!

Finally, after being here for the 3rd time, I cycle the highest paved road in Europe: the Veleta

One of the things that made me decide leaving my old life and starting my adventures, was a poem of an old woman, looking back at her life, regretting all the things she didn't do (I have inserted this poem below). This, I decided, would not be me. And since there is no need to wait for the 'perfect moment' to take this decision, I just did it: I stepped out of my old life and started to live the dreams I had. The first one turned out to be pretty easy: going on my bike 'around the world'. Just a matter of going, no planning. And as for my second dream… I am getting somewhere… :)

Although the Title says 'Al final de … todo…' this is far from true! There has just began a new episode, a new Chapter in my life, and who knows in my Blog... ?

If I Had My Life To Live Over Again

If I had my life to live over again,
I’d dare to make more mistakes next time.
I’d relax.
I’d limber up.
I’d be sillier than I’ve been this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously.
I would take more chances,
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.

I would, perhaps, have more actual troubles but fewer imaginary ones.
you see, I’m one of those people who was sensible and sane,
hour after hour,
day after day.

Oh, I’ve had my moments.
If I had to do it over again,
I’d have more of them.
In fact, I’d try to have nothing else- just moments,
one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.

I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute.
If I could do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had to live my life over,
I would start barefoot earlier in the spring
and stay that way later in the fall.
I would go to more dances,
I would ride more merry-go-rounds,
I would pick more daisies.

– Nadine Stair –