My Donostian & Sagresian Life

So, it has taken me a while to write. Sorry but I'm not sorry. I was not inspired to write shite before but this morning was different. Somehow I felt like I needed to write something. A feeling that I haven't felt in a long while...

I have Vodka Juniors in the background (their music have helped me write before), a super bock next to me (which also have been really helpful in the past). I just need to put an order to all the thoughts I have in my head and somehow transform them into words.

I lived in Ericeira for a few months, a bit over 7 to be exact.  Season was coming to an end and I had to decide where to go next and spend the winter. 

At the risk of sounding like a cheesy motherfucker, love made me move to Donostia (San Sebastian in Spanish). I've been know for choosing awesome places to settle for a while: Praha, Kraków, Tallinn, Berlin, my lovely Graná, Ericeira, Donostia and now, Sagres.

There I was, expecting a super wet and cold winter in Donostia. Yes, I'm not used to sub zero temperatures anymore. Long gone are the days which I could use two layers and it was -25ºC. Now, I cannot even think about it! I was using two layers and the tempratura it was close to 0 and sometimes 1 or 2 degrees below. Being 15 minutes in my new hometown and started to rain and a bus splashed me because it drove on my pothole. That reminds me of an unofficial rainy season sport in Xela (Guatemala) called "splash the tourist" in which the driver tries to get the unlucky foreigner as wet as possible. Once, I was walking along some street and I saw how the car changed lanes to try to splash me! 

The life in Donostia was awesome. The city itself it a "bit" posh for my taste... actually it is ranked as the most expensive city in Spain but there are ways to go around it and make it cheaper. I lived in the old town, in what I think it was the most Basque street in the entire town. The food is something else. I think I ate the best tortilla I have ever had during my stay. I once readn an article that depicted the top 10 restaurants around the world... a few were in Gipuzkua, that's the province in which Donostia sits, for those of you who didn't know.

I had a beermance with Keler, the local beer.  While I had better, there was something about it, maybe that it was brewed locally. Regardless, I loved the taste and I would go to the chino and buy a couple and practice some kalsarikännit but sometimes not in underwear.

While I was living here, I had the opportunity to live a really Basque experience. I knew local people and when I went out to the pub, I always went to the local bars where Spanish was the second language. In one of those bars, I met Maripili... (inside joke).

One of this life changing experiences was going to cider house. For Odin, for about 25€ they give you an omelette, cider, bread, cider, pork chops, cider, more bread, more cider, actually, unlimited cider! the first time I was in one of those cider houses, I was with a group of people but the second time... I still don't know how I manage to eat an entire omelette and a kilo of meat all by myself! there are videos to prove it! and to top that, on the way home I stopped at McRubbish to get some fries! To think that only a few earlier I disliked cider.

Basque Country and Navarra are known for being very green, actually the whole north, and the people are really into hiking. one of the hikes other than hiking back home from the bar is if you go from Donostia to San Juan Pasaia.

Flowers started to bloom. Weather became warmer. Days started to get a bit longer. The only thing that remained the same were the astonishing sunsets. I admit it, I do have a thing for amazing sunsets. Sunsets at La Zurriola were... just amazing. One thing I'm sad about, is not being able to go to La Zurriola and watch the sunset while drinkin Keler not wearing two layers with you.

As spring was coming I had to leave. I had an opportunity to go to Porto, which I have never been before but I had to turn it down as it was not good for me. I considered going back to Ericeira but that not an option anymore.

That way I kept looking and found myself in the lovely Vila do Sagres. Not that I have never heard of the place before. I had been to Sagres a few times. Once on my first road trip ever and then a few more times while I lived in Lagos.

Sagres life is slow and easy. Unlike Lagos that has a shitload of restaurants and bars and people doing stupid shit, in Sagres everything and everybody is at a slow pace.

Life went on from home to beach to home to beach to home to swimming pool. Going to the pub occasionally. I didn't learn to surf and I finally gave up on the idea that I will ever learn. I'm not a sports person and the idea of drowning doesn't quite appeals to me.

Apparently this year was one of the busiest seasons ever. Sagres was crowed, although not as crowed as Lagos that all summer long is a pain in the ass to just even walk in the center, let alone attempting to spot to lie on the beach. I've never had that problem here. Which brings me to this: I have never been a beach person and still, this year I think I went to the beach more times that the rest of life combined!

Is know that The Algarve have some of the best beaches of Portugal and the world and Sagres was no exception to that rule. While Sagres have 3 beaches less than 20 min and one less than 40 minutes walk, having a car opens up the possibility to visit beaches that the public transport doesn't reach them. Such as the case of Ponta Ruiva that is literally in the middle of nowhere. There are no stores, restaurants, beach bars. You have to have a car to go there. You have everything that you want to eat and drink.

Others, on the other hand can hitchhike to them. Like Castelejo, close to Vila do Bispo. I actually hitchhike to and from Castelejo once.

There is the hippie beach, Barranco, where you can find... errr... stuff. I spent my birthday there with you when sleeping in the van.

I swam naked at the other beaches, Mareta, Tonel, Beliche (the 3 closest). I said it before, I went into the ocean many, many times this year.

For obviuos reasons, the best beaches to watch the sunset were Tonel and Beliche. For those of you who don't know why are they the obvious places, is because Mareta is on the South Coast. Of course, sunset from the light house (Cabo San Vicente). Why best you may ask? because is the Southwestern-most point in continental Europe.

I mentioned Vila do Bispo before. Nothing interesting here except for the fact that only at the cider house I ate more. There is a small restaurant in which you can give your palate a real treat. Not only is cheap as fuck you will eat as never before and be treated super nice.

Anyways, my time in Sagres has come to an end. It was an amzing what, close to 6 windy and chilly months. Last year in Ericeira I never went into the ocean. Not even once in 7 months. The first time this year it was in Donostia, well my feet but that's better than nothing. In Sagres? A few days after I arrived. And that was just the beginning.

Overall, my stay was nice. Don't know if you know that if you work in a hostel is worse than working in a fucking kindergarten and this was not the exception, even worst if you add a princess or two... But I love a phrase that my mum uses quite often: "treat them like you would treat the sound of the rain",  meaning that you just don't pay attention,  you just hear the sound in the background... I actually used that technique quite a few times with guests as well.

Ahead of me, 8 hours of work are waiting for me. The last 8 hours of this chapter. The last 8 hours before I embark on yet another adventure. The last 8 hours before I get on a bus that will take me back to Galicia. The last 8 hours fighting with children bur here, we called them volunteers. The last 8 hours that are the beginning of the final countdown to be with you again...

I never expected to write this much. Now I'm back to my normal state before my shift: not an early bird nor a night owl but some form permanently exhausted pigeon

Home is where the heart is...

I met up with some friends to go to a flamenco show? yup, I avoided flamenco my entire stay in Granada (Andalusia is its birthplace) and I ended up going to a show in my native country... oh well. I was impressed one bit, I don't like this kind of music but then he sang about Albayzín... my old neighborhood when I lived in Graná. Hearing the words about Albayzín brought a smile to my ugly face. Happy days.

Since the "lovely" people at the Mexican embassy didn't want to give me the stupid visa to fly from Cancún and since I was not going to book another connecting flight I had to come up with a plan B. Come up because like most plan Bs, they don't exist until you need them. 

I left JH more than a month before and had been working three times a week in a super nice and cozy pub that goes by the name of Whiskey Den. But the time had come. I had to leave. I needed to leave. It was not all fun and games in these 5 months in Guatemala. Had ups and downs but overall was nice. Met nice people. Met not so nice people, unfortunately.

My aim for the day was to get to either El Tunco or San Salvador. I was leaning towards the beach as it would be easier to leave from there than from the city. 

I probably wrote about this before but I cannot remember 100%. Even if I did, it was most likely in 2012. Hitchhiking in Latin America is super different to HHing in Europe. In LatAm you just need to look like a foreigner and put your stuff in front of you and that's it. My level or paranoia grew quite a bit during my times in Guatemala to the point that I was refusing many rides because I didn't feel confident enough to get inside the car. Surprisingly enough, I felt very confident in Nicaragua but I'll get to that soon.

I had to routes to choose from: the Panamarican Highway that would get me to San Salvador but I would have to cross Guate City with all my shit so... no.  The other route was to leave Antigua towards Escuintla and take highway CA2 towards El Salvador. It was a bit longer but nicer views and it would take me through El Tunco where a friend of mine was waiting for me. 

I chose the latter route.

It was 8 in the morning. I stopped at McRubbish for a coffee to go. By 8:30 I was already on my way. First and second rides came easy. By noon I was about 50 Km from the border. Unlike other times that I don't have a time frame I wanted to be in Nicaragua for the weekend meaning that I had to sleep that night in El Salvador. I was quite in a hurry given I had to take a stupid flight that would take me from Costa Rica to El Salvador to Colombia to the Dominican Republic. Success! By early afternoon I was in El Tunco. Next day's destination: León, Nicaragua.

León was not that far away, less than 500Km but that included two borders. Hitchhiking in El Salvador was a breeze. While I was in the queue for the passport check in the Honduras side of the border, someone offered me a shuttle bus, straight to the Nicaraguan border for 6$. "What time are we leaving?". "Now". That guy had a different concept of time than me. That now was almost two hours later. He was waiting for the bus to fill up. All the passengers agreed to paid 8$ so we could leave straight away. Yay, I was on the way to Nicaragua. The van was overheating so we stopped in some town in the middle to fix it. Yay, we lost almost another hour.

I knew that my tattoos would get me questions asked. Everything was fine until I said I was from Guatemala. Before: "gringo", "traveler", "welcome to Nicaragua". But everything changed the second after I said where I was coming from: "do you have more tattoos?", "what do they mean?", "are you in a gang?".

Finally I was in lovely Nicaragua. I stayed in a nice little hotel owned by an Andalusian guy, the name: Hostal Flamenco's...! León was nice. It was not like I remembered it but nice still. Nicaragua is quite cheap. I was craving for Gallo Pinto. I wanted to spend the most time in Nicaragua and the least in Costa Rica. There is a nice beach close to León, Las Peñitas. Then it was Granada. Not quite my Graná but still as nice as I remembered it. León was exactly the middle point between El Tunco and San José, Costa Rica. 

All good things have to come to an end. I needed to leave Nicaragua and somehow get to Costa Rica to take the flight to the DR. The flight was in the afternoon but I wanted to make it to San José the day before so I could check, double check and triple check everything.

A friend of mine arrived to Costa Rica the day before me. I wanted to meet with him so I went to the hostel that he was staying only to find out that he checked out in the morning. The hostel was overpriced (like everything in Costa Rica), not the nicest. It offered free coffee but it was only free if you ordered the, you guessed it: overpriced breakfast! The staff was far from being friendly: I was not shown the room, bathrooms, bar, anything! I found out what time was check out time through another guest. Horrible and expensive experience. I would've slept at the airport if only my flight was in the morning. 

Ahead of me were 18 hours of traveling, between flights and layovers.  I had to spend my last Colones in some overpriced coffee (3$!) because I couldn't change them into Dollars because they "don't have 1$ notes". First stop: El Salvador... where I was just a few days before! Two hour layover and a flight to Bogotá where I would spend the night at the airport. No point in going outside. Flight arrived at midnight and the flight to Santo Domingo was at 8 something.

 I had never been to the Caribbean. I didn't know what to expect. I had no idea about anything on the island. I knew it had amazing beaches and expensive all inclusives on those beaches. I arrived to Santo Domingo but the flight to Madrid was from Punta Cana, some 200 Km from the Capital of the Domincan Republic.

I had to no idea where to stay in DR. I completely forgot that it was Semana Santa so CS was a no no. Everybody was on holidays or already hosting other people. My older brother used to travel quite often to Santo Domingo a few years back so I asked him if he had contacts.

The DR has a lot of tourism, tourism made for rich people. There is no public transport to and from the airport. The taxi is about 30$ I've read somewhere that you could jump in inside a guagua (Dominican bus) and pay 1-2$ but lucky me, my brother still had some contacts in SD. That's how I had a driver waiting for me at the airport. The guy even held a sign with my name written in it! Never had that before happened in my life. I think it was the first time in the history of human kind that a driver was waiting for a sweaty and smelly backpacker. These people who I'm super grateful not only paid for the taxi but also for a small hotel in the old town part of the city. The hotel was really nice. Fancy, at least for me. I mean, for now. I've stayed in fancier hotels when I was younger and I was traveling with my parents but that was ages ago. I don't even remember when was this. I think I was still in high school...

I only had one night in DR. Or so I thought. I went out for dinner to a fancy restaurant and had a massive meal consisting in pasta. The restaurant was overlooking a very pretty square, everything was colonial, inside and out. DR was expensive, at least for me. Not for the flock of tourists that were drinking and eating everywhere.

The time to leave had arrived. I needed to take a bus to Punta Cana Airport. One thing caught my attention: From Santo Domingo to Punta Cana/Bávaro the bus stopped only at the Punta Cana airport, not the Santo Domingo. The same, coming back from Punta Cana, the bus would stop at the SD airport but not PC airport. What if you needed to get from one airport to the other? You either pay a taxi of you're fucked. I would've been fucked.

At this point I was not impressed at all about the DR. Well, at least not in good way. In Santo Domingo most of the people were rude and not nice. If I was standing in a queue someone would try to cut in the queue. When I was about to board the bus and was waiting for the driver to take my backpack someone try do cut the line!? for fuck's sake man, wait for your fucking turn, the bus won't leave without you stupid motherfucker...

I made to Punta Cana airport with plenty of time to spare. I had everything in order: I had the printed ticket to Madrid. I had a printer ticket out of Europe. I had my passport. I had everything... at leat I thought I had everything in order.

Dominicans are super racists: they had a queue for Latin Americans and one for non-Latin Americans. Finally I made it to the check-in counter:
- Where is your visa?
- I don't need a visa.
- Dominicans need a visa to get to Europe.
- I'm not Dominican.
- You will have to wait until the supervisor (decides to) comes here.
Ok, no worries. I don't need a visa, this will be solved quickly. Flight was at 21:15 and it was still not even 17:00. I still have time.

Well, supervisor showed up more than an hour later and confirmed what I was telling the ground personnel for the past hour: Guatemalans DON'T need a visa! Ok, with that out of the way she began the check-in. I have to say that I had already paid the 20$ in exit tax. "This is a one way ticket, where is your return ticket?". I showed a ticket from Belgium to Turkey. Let me talk to the supervisor (again). I talked to the arrogant and ignorant supervisor and she ignores me. She instead, take many people at a time to some room to ask them question because they suspected that their passports were fake! It was humiliating, I was sitting by a column while all the people were getting their boarding passes. I have to say that were a shitload of Spaniards on holidays taking that stupid plane. After about three hours and just before the plane was about to take off, that bitch tells me that they cannot let board the plane because the ticket is not valid. I try to reason with her that Schengen rules states that one need a return or onward ticket out of the Schengen area, not a particular country, that I could fly into Spain and fly out of Estonia if I wanted to. She doesn't know what Estonia is. Her ignorance is amazing. I mean, the level of ignorance she possesses is just unbelievable. She thought (and probably still thinks) that if a person flies to Spain, the return/onward ticket has to be from Spain because "Spain won't let out to go to another country to take another flight". I missed the flight. I tried one last time to reason with those idiots but there was another woman that was super upset. She was partially checked in but was not let board the plane. Her luggage was on the way to Madrid, she wasn't. FUCK YOU EVELOP. YOU SUCK! YOUR GROUND PERSONNEL SUCK! YOU ARE THE WORST AIRLINE! FUCK YOU AND GO TO HELL STUPID CUNTS!

I had to spend the night at the airport, obviously. I was too upset to even think about what I was going to do. I was stuck in the stupid Dominican Republic. I tried to get some sleep. I'll think of something tomorrow.

Morning came. I asked where I could eat something as there was only ONE restaurant in the fucking international airport! There is a shopping center about 10 minute walk from the terminal. I found a café to sit a loiter the internet. I ended up staying there until closing time. The ladies that work there were super nice. Specially one, Chavela. She gave me water without asking.  I was supposed to be in Spain Sunday morning, instead I was having a coffee still in the DR. Yeah, yeah I know. Why are you complaining, you're in the Caribbean, you're in paradise. Paradise? yeah, for rich people! I sent some couch requests to people near by but it was Semana Santa: every body was out or hosting someone already.

That whole Sunday I thought about what do do. I even thought to go back to Guatemala and send Europe to fuck itself. I was worn out. I was tired. I needed a shower. I changed tshirt because the other one probably (most likely) stunk. Went to the café again. Found another ticket, leaving Monday evening. I booked the ticket with the help of a good friend of mine. Fuck the ticket from Belgium, this time I had a return ticket to Guatemala. I was to leave the stupid island Monday evening at 22:10.

The time came. I showed up at the counter. Again, a queue for Latin Americans and a queue for non-Latin Americans... da fuq DR!? What's wrong with you? I gave my passport. The guy scanned it with some X-Ray/UV/IR device but that is not enough so he asks me for my ID. According to international law, the ONLY valid form of ID for a person in a foreign country is their passport. But I agree and gave my ID.  He scans it with the X-Ray/UV/IR device and finally give the OK. All's good. I've flown Wamos Air before and have no complaints of any kind before, why would I start now. Gave my passport and then I'm not in the fucking system!!! What the hell is going on for fuck's sake!!!??? Come on Wamos, don't let me down. I have high hopes for you, don't let me down.  Supervisor goes to two different terminal but this one is not a bitch, like the Evelop one. Everything's good. False alarm. I'm given the boarding pass. Everything is alright. I'm headed to the X-Ray machines and then to passport control. See you later suckers!!!

Not quite.

The police guy passport control man askes me were I was before. I'm confused and don't know the exact dates. He's testing me, he's looking at the stamps in the passport. He asks me where is my visa. For the millionth fucking time: I DON'T NEED A VISA!!! He then takes my passport to his supervisor. All this is happening when I'm trying to board out of the country, not getting in. The uniformed cunt says out loud, in front of me and other people: "I've always thought of Guatemalan passport as fake, I mean, look at them! they seem very fake to me". I said to myself: idiot. Then he asked me for my ID, which he liked more. While all this is happening the police guy passport control man is always looking angry and serious. Then another guy joins and ask where is the visa to what the uniformed guy says that Guatemalan don't need a visa. I'm nervous. He says that everything is OK. When we're about 1 meter from the control booth he called us back. "How much money do you need to get into Europe?". How the fuck should I know, a shitload that I don't have? I said 500€ minimum between cash and card, while showing my debit card. "OK, cool. I was just asking because not long ago there was a Colombian guy that wanted to go to Europe and didn't have any cash or card with him. I sent him back to Colombia". Hmm, I thought that at least I would get a free flight back to Guatemala instead of getting stuck on the island. Now, the police guy passport control man changed completely his attitude. Now he was smiling and even apologized for all that shit! I made it. Now I only needed to wait for a couple of hours more to board the plane and then 8 hours later I would landing in Madrid.

8 hours later I was landing in Spain but there was something that kept bothering me. I was in plane where half of the seats were occupied by Dominicans. There was probably a valid (and annoying) reason why DR is super tough in letting people board planes. Got to Spanish passport control. I gave my passport. Woman asked me if I had a return ticket to which I showed the ticket I was not asked to show leaving DR. Asked me where I was going to stay. I said hostels but the booking were in my mobile and the battery died. Stamped in. FUCK YEAH! I WAS IN!!

I didn't want to book the bus ticket to Lisboa just in case. I had to rush to the bus station. When I got there I bought the last ticket to Lisboa! It wasn't because during the whole ride no one sat beside me. More space for me.

I celebrated going to a café and bough tostada de tomate y café con leche. It was not the best that I had but I couldn't care less. I was back in Spain and by that time the next day I would be in Portugal, but that's for a different post.

That was the story of how I got back to Europe.

Back home?

I have been back in Guatemala for over two months now. Felt weird at the beginning. Actuall, still feels weird. Haven't seen most of my so call friends. For fuck's sake, haven't even seen the rest of my family!

When I was still in Europe I heard that a friend of mine (we were best friends before I left) was getting married. I was even invited his stag... Last week I saw that he's already married. Good luck with you new life mate, good for you.

It's been over two months and nothings has change since last time. No, wait! I'm not depressed like the times before! I mean, I miss you but now it's different. Now there are different reasons to be not happy. Oh well...

Anyways, I will writing about depressive melancholic shit and something happy. Right the next day after I arrived from Madrid I met Gonzalo. We worked in the same hostel in Tallinn, the he stayed for one night at my mum's.

The following weekend while attending a CSing meeting something very interesting happened:  a girl from Graná showed up (she's Austrian but going to UGR). We immediately hit it off. We began talking about Graná and I told her that I lived there. Long story short, we lived two streets apart and we went very often the my second house! But we never met in Spain, we met in Antigua!!!

This is the second time I work as a bartender and let me tell you that is fun! It's like in the movies: many people come to bartenders to have a chat. Ok, ok, not quite like in the movies, no one has cry over my shoulder but I get to talk a lot.

Like any other hostel I've worked before, I get to know people from all over. Some nice, some...

It's been over two months. I miss Europe and I miss my friends there. I almost don't have friends here anymore. Oh well.

Of all the times I had been back to Guatemala only once it was not depressing. I only stayed for less than three weeks... This time I'm about to break my personal record: three months.

My best friend was here. At the beginning was a bit weird and not nice but at the end I was really happy she got to spend a few weeks with me. Now she's gone.

It's early, I'm awake since about an hour ago. For the past few weeks I haven't been able to get a good night sleep. Last week I was going to bed super early, sometimes even before 21:00!!! But that didn't translate into good sleep, I had not nightmares but really disturbing dreams.

I don't feel like writing anymore. I had all this things inside my head that now I cannot seem to be able type them.

Am I home or will I be going back home...

Finally I'm...

... able to breathe normally again? The days of anxiety and panic attacks are over? I'm back home.

Anyways, after a couple of days in Madrid looking for a solution to my problem: how to get back to Guatemala. The solution came in the form of my friends. You know who you are. Thank you. Really, specially you who have been by my side since last year.

I found a ticket to Guatemala through Colombia. After checking, double checking and triple checking the fact that I don't need a visa the ticket was booked. I spent 4 days in Madrid. It was a long flight but the plane was comfortable. It was actually the nicest plane I have ever flown. I think it was the new Boeing 787 Dreamliner.

A friend of mine was waiting for me in Bogotá. After telling her that I had a layover, she invited me to stay with her. With directions in hand I left the airport and took the bus to her flat. We waited 5+ years to have a couple of beers.

The following day I had the flight to Guatemala at 14:20. I had several hours to kill. Decide that I couldn't leave Colombia without having an arepa so I embarked on the quest to find one. I Spent two weeks in 2012 so it was not really a must to go sightseeing. I had my important shit with me so I decided to play it safe and eat at the first restaurant I saw.

After eating, I went straight to the airport. I still had like 3 hours left before the flight.

After clearing passport control and the X-Ray machine a policeman told me to go where he was. "We are going to do a routine drug test". Dafuq!? I started to panic. After bitch slapping myself (mentally of course). I sat and thought "why the fuck are you scared about? you don't have any drugs on you. Chill". Then another policeman asked me to walk with him. They put me through a fucking X-Ray machine to see if I had drugs inside my body!? Cunts. And to put the cherry on top, they made put my stuff through the X-Rays again! Like after being always surrounded by policemen I was going to smuggle anything inside. Idiots.

2,5 hr flight and I was back in "The Land of the Eternal Spring". It was sunny and warm. I wore a polar to cover my arm tattoo. Realized that the stigma of a tattooed person is nothing nice in Guatemala. I had to fill out a form upon entering right? Country of provenance: Colombia. I had to write that because I left the airport, otherwise I would've written Spain. There is this traffic light, you have to press a button. If the light turns green, you are obviously free to go. If it turns red, well, customs have to check your luggage. The guy saw that I was coming from Colombia and immediately told me to go left (where you had to go if the light was red). Finally I made it out. I just needed to wait for my big brother. He told that he would pick me up.

It's nice to be back, except for the stupid jetlag that it was hard to get rid of. Now I can't seem to get a brake, now I have insomnia! I barely sleep. I'm sleeping like 4-5 hours a day best case scenario.  Am I still stressed out, maybe. Although now is for different reasons.

For a reason, I always have a tough time when I'm back home. Circumstances. I hope I can change them soon... very soon. This time is different though. I've gone out and met many wonderful people. Haven't met many of my friends, except for a handful. I guess that they all have a busy life and just can't make the time. It's understandable, besides I have been back for less than two weeks. I'm going to give myself time to adjust again to the Guatemalan rhythm of life.

I feel the pressure in my chest  building up again. Fuuuuuuuuuu...

Guess what I'm listening at the moment? yup, Vodka Juniors. I'm only missing the litre of Alhambra...

How Granada has “ruined” my life forever

I have been living in Granada for almost a year (in total). I left for three months which ended up being a short holiday in Eastern Europe (specially Poland and the heart shaped country, Lithuania), which is no secret that I love it there.

These are (some of) the reasons why living in Granada has ruined my life forever:

• It’s cheap as fuck.
• You can walk everywhere.
• Thank God for chinos. Small Asian owned grocery stores that are open till late and where you can buy 1€/litre beer.

• Tapas. Tapas can be a small meal while drinking. And best of all… they are free!

• The (Mediterranean) Sea is only a bit more than an hour away.

• The (Atlantic) Ocean as about three hours.

• The Sierra Nevada is like less than  an hour.

• Cheap alcohol: a small beer (33cl) in the supermarket is only 25cents

• I have my own shot at my favourite pub, Hamelin.

• The servers at my favourite café already know what I’m having: full English breakfast.

• More tapas!!!

• Nightlife starts after midnight.  Going out for tapas is going out for a drink before going out drinking.
• Amazing and cheap breaksfasts!

• Magnificent hikes that you can do on your own for free!

• Nature, nature everywhere. 

• Unfortunately, dog shit as well.

 

• Free Spring rave-ish music on the hill behind Granada, a.k.a. Perdiz Tropical.
• Another free rave in the (super) close town of Santa Fé, a.k.a. Dragon Festival.
• Lovely weather even in February (sorry that my friend is in the screenshot).

 

• Lack of appropriate heating and insulation but then again, there are only three months of winter.
• Impressive Game of Thrones-ish like castle: Alhambra.

• Kebab shops. I don’t know, there might me some debate here. Berlin’s kebabs are also very good, specially the one that is close to that U-Bahn station in Neuköln. Over here they are known by their Arabic name: shawarma. The one in the photo is called tarrina: it’s kebab meat with chips and shawarma sauce. Perfect drunk/hangover food.

 

• More nature.

• ok, this is mostly not nature but it was fun to go paragliding.

• Joe Strummer lived here and has his own little square.

• Free live music.

• Impressive sunsets...

• and even more tapas! 

So peeps, those are some of the reasons why Graná has ruined my life. When I hitchhiked to Lithuania last year, I was in Bilbao ordering a beer with my friend and the first thing I noticed was there was not food coming with the beer.

I was on the quest to find my happy place. I thought I found it when I spent an awesome year in Estonia but it was not until I came back here that I realized that this is the place that makes me the most happy in the whole world. Estonia was and is a very special place for me but this small city stole my heart from day... 54

hahaha

Alive and kicking (part 1): Leaving Granada - BXL

That’s right, I’m alive. My life has been intense since the last crap I wrote. Met some wonderful new people that I wanted to take with me. I met someone very special the last weekend I was in Granada. I am indeed the King of Bad Timing. I spent more time in my second home (or first?), oh yeah, that place is Hamelin. That pub became a very special place for me. The barmen became my friends, I did some crazy shit there. I slept at the bar more time than I would like to accept. I would be in a position to deny that but unfortunately there are a few photos of me sleeping. Since I started traveling I don’t listen to radio and I don’t what to look for on youtube, I mean new music. My music library has grown very, very slowly. But despite that fact along the years I managed to came to know some really great bands. I’m not sure if I knew them before but in Granada I became a fan of The Black Keys; and I specially like one song: Lonely Boy. I’m not sure who was it that changed the name of the song to Lonely Ron but I liked it. From then on I sang that song, let’s say a lot.  I even managed to get a shot named after me… yup, you guessed it right, the name of MY  shot is Lonely Ron. The last beer I had there, the Sunday before I left was very, very emotional.

 (photos courtesy of Syrmo Kyrstopoulo)

photo by Cristina

I needed to be in Paris fast and given the fact that hitchhiking in Spain is utterly unpredictable, I decided not to hitchhike whilst still in the country. I found myself in Bilbao 12 hours after leaving Granada. I had been there before, 4 years prior. In Bilbao I met with my friend Cristina. She spent 5 years in Australia. I haven’t seen her in the same amount of time. We talked about of love stories, about traveling, about traveling and love stories. We had a lot to catch up… a lot! Although, 3 days was not enough to get up to date for the last 5 years, but we have an idea of what we did in that time. Sometimes some people tell me “life has taken us different ways, you are traveling the world. Distance tends to drive people off". Not in this case, I felt like the last time I saw Cristina was a month ago (a 5 year 30 days ago, if that makes any sense. It does in my head).

The route that lorry drivers take from Portugal/Spain to Northern Europe “goes through” San Sebastián. So there I was, at 6 in the morning looking for a way out. I decided to share a ride to the first petrol station on French soil. The driver didn't charge me... it ended being sort of hitchhiking. Once there, 5 minutes later I was inside a Portuguese lorry on my way to Bordeaux. I think that Granada turned me uglier. I spent 7 hours stuck in that damn petrol station! Nothing was working. I was asking people near the pumps. No one was going to Paris. In December I was on the other side of the road, going to Madrid and I found an straight ride after less than 30 minutes (we had breakfast in those 30 minutes of waiting). Why on this side was different? Dafuq should I know! I just knew that no one was picking me up. I was desperate. I was anxious. I was hungry. I only had one apple, one peach and one pear in my stomach. Finally, by 17:00, a Belgian car drove me to Paris… super fast! I was very scared but I didn’t care, I was finally going to Paris, for the third time.

Paris, the City of Light. Twice before I had been there and twice before was nothing special. In fact, I’m not a big fan of Paris but I was supposed to meet someone there, someone that never came. Therefore, third time was not the charm.  I met some nice people there so it was alright. I met with my good friend Lempi and everything was alright.

Leaving Paris is always a major pain in the ass; this time was not the exception. The distance between Paris and Lille is not that much so I decided not to start as early as I normally would. After four hours of sharing the spot with four other people, I finally left and was having a beer with my friend Chloé by 17:00. The first thing I noticed when I saw the beers on the table was, where the fuck is the food? Oh yeah, I was not in Spain anymore. Summer of 2013 I met a nice Moroccan in Tallinn. A year later I was meeting Abde in Lille for a coffee.

I was standing in the entrance of the motorway. A place I had been standing twice before. The first time I was there I was going back to Belgium and I found a ride straight to BXL. The second time I was going South, I was going to Saint-Loubès and found a ride to the first petrol station on the motorway. Both times it took like maybe an hour or two. Both times I was with a girl. This time though, I was alone. This time it took me I think more than four hours. Not one single car even stopped to ask me where I was going. I didn’t remember that hitchhiking in France was that hard. I saw a lorry with Belgian number plates and immediately showed him the “BXL” sign I had been using. Suddenly, the unexpected happened: the driver agreed to take me! After introducing myself and talking for a bit he told me that he was not going to BXL but to Antwerpen through Gent… Fuck it, I was on my way to Belgium, I didn’t care. As long as Belgium was still as easy to hitch as it has been in the past, I could be anywhere and still make it before dinnertime to my destination. He offered me to take me to Antwerpen (it would’ve been as easy to go there and hitchhike down to BXL but why bother to add an extra 100ish Km) but I asked to be dropped off before Gent, right before the crossroads on the motorway leading to BXL. 10 minutes went by and I was offered a cigar whilst being driven the petrol station on the motorway. There I asked a few drivers but they were going not quite to Brussel (by the way, for those of you who do not know: BXL = Brussel = Brussels). Finding a ride in 10 minutes is super cool, especially after being stuck for 4 hours in the same place. Belgium is the country where I had the most rides in luxury cars. I saw a fancy MercedesBenz S-Class, the driver looked (and was) a businessman. He changed his name to Dries when he converted to Islam, over 20 years ago. He used to hitchhike and told me that Spain was once easy to hitchhike and that Guardia Civil had always been assholes. Oh yeah, he told me this while driving me to BXL.