Hitch hiking and various other pastimes #16

..My relationship with my hosts had gotten stronger as you would expect, and I felt quite at home with their company although I may not have agreed with everything they believe in, we can find common ground. One thing I had been enjoying immensely was the food, Inge seemed to spend the majority of her time around the kitchen, possibly due to her bad back, and conjures up some magnificent dishes, all with home grown or local organic produce; rabbit stews, chicken soups, spelt wheat loaves and various other items have been laid before me on the table in huge quantities, with 3rd servings being commonplace.

Amongst some of my regular tasks, which included opening and feeding the chickens and geese, moving the sheep and their pen and feeding the rabbits, during the first week I replanted some suffering onions and helped install a drip-irrigation system, collected firewood higher up the mountain, with the Junta's (council) strimming and cutting of the roadside aiding us, planted and irrigated three rows of potatoes, Alpujarran style, with the water cascading or trickling down through small channels, using stones to change its path when necessary.

I also cleared a patch of notoriously tough Spanish brambles, cleaned the swimming pool, which was a very tedious and tiring task, and planted various sunflowers here, there and everywhere. Both the physical aspect and the psychological aspect combined to be a draining experience, with the supremely bright moon coming out when my thoughts wandered to existential matters; globalisation, homesickness and how to light the stove without any matches.

The first week provided a good introduction to life at Semilla Besada, and it continued much the same, only with me having spend the majority of the next week with Bruno, the quiet, rough, knowledgeable Belgian who had spent the past 20 years there in Andalucia, since arriving at the tender age of 16 with no money and no Spanish. He was a builder by trade but seemed to be adept in many areas, be it killing animals, drinking copious amounts or other common Alpujarran pastimes. Bastian had told me brief snippets of his life outside of his temporary building work at La Chaparra and he seemed to have personal complications but he is a pleasure to work with, I have never seen anyone with such a passion for cement and spirit levels.

We had also been on two stone collecting missions further up the mountain, for building the steps and to be used as the drainage system around the bunker/larder we were building. At the natural mine, there were some lovely stones, huge chunks of marble, small rose quartz pebbles and perfectly flat stones stones, which Bruno exclaimed were perfect for building. The second time we were there, 3 golden eagles, presumably 1 female and 2 young, glided overhead, curious as to what we were doing on their part of the mountain. They flew swiftly over us and into the mist that shrouded the Rio Lanjaron barranco.

My first weekend off was a welcome break and to lie in till 9 seemed like heaven, something else that I didn't want to take for granted upon my return to England, along with a raised appreciation of wine, good food and sustainability. What occurred to me whilst wandering through the foothills, with my worn down adidas' aiding my Spanish adventure again and getting consequently filled with bits of the various prickly bushes that are so abundant on the Alpujarran slopes, is that Christopher McCandless' notion that 'happiness is only really when shared' applied to my scenario perfectly at points in my trip. Naturally, I wasn't as isolated as McCandless, not even nearly so, but compared to my home life, still a gigantic turnaround. Instead of walking through woods that I know like the back of my hand with my girlfriend or my friends, I found myself traversing steep valleys by myself, with a stick in my hand in care I should have another encounter with a hostile canine, and stopping once in a while for some water and to take in the ever-changing views.

It is these views of the tiny white-washed splashes on the surprisingly green gradients of the Sierra de Lujar and the Sierra de la Contraviesa that make me yearn for companionship. A view shared is a view to be enjoyed, to remember together, to be silent in astonishment or to loudly express ones joy at such imposing chunks of earth.

Hitch hiking and various other pastimes #15

(Sorry for the lack of posts recently, I will get back on track with them)

..Then we ate, a feast of spaghetti and sauce, more than enough for 4 people, which we washed down with some celebratory glasses of wine. I told them bits and bobs about myself over the food and was I would be cracking almonds that afternoon, as a gentle introduction to work on this conspiracy-theory fuelled, remote sustainable dwelling.

After said almonds were cracked, I was shown around the main lower garden, a maze of fenced-off vegetable patches, olive terraces and various animal pens, including the geese and chicken runs, the large rabbit cage, containing 20 or more black and white (edible) fluffballs, and the 2 sheep in their enclosure at the bottom of the garden. All these were joined together with little paths leading here and there, with the platform that David (the man who lived here previously and the one whom we lived with) had done some form of martial arts/meditation on, at the heart of the garden, surrounded by fruit trees and pleasant smelling bushes.

My hosts seemed nice enough, the semi-typical alternative type that this part of Spain seems to attract in abundance, possibly due, in part, to Chris Stewart's 'Driving over Lemons'. Over the next few days, I was to learn that my reading on conspiracy theories and occultism was nothing compared to what they believed and practised for the most part. Personally, I like to keep an air of skeptisism about such matter and, although it is clear to me that the world is becoming something uninhabitable due to various powers in place, I find it hard to believe in fables such as the lost city of Atlantic or the pyramids being constructed by 'aliens', although it certainly makes for interesting and dynamic conversation. On a more down to earth note, before our evening meal of cheeses, hams and bread, I fed the rabbits with a mixture of plants and weeds collected from around the garden, doing 2 jobs in one.

I had been at Semilla Besada almost two weeks and it had gone incredibly fast, it seemed like only a day or two ago since I was in Granada with John. I'd settled in reasonably well and had definitely been putting my hours in; Monday to Friday, working from 9ish til 2 then working 3ish til 7-8. However I had been sleeping well in the caravan that I called home. I lit the stove every night then read till the heat had peaked in my box of delights, then I crawl into my sleeping bag, comfortable and warm, only to wake up shivering every morning. The temperature sure did drop at night and when the clouds descend.

For 3 days it rained quite significantly on and off and we even witnessed some snow; in April this must be a rare occurance, but to wake up and see the immense Sierra de Lujár iced with the snow, the radio antenna its cherry on top, or the frozen grass crystals around Paco's sprinkler made waking up in a fridge slightly more bearable.

The first week here on the mountain had been peculiar affair, settling in, getting into a semi-routine again after the sporadicity of hitch-hiking and being around people permanently as opposed to lots of solitary pondering en route. My spirits were admittedly undulating as the dats wore on, moments of bliss and peacefulness followed lonely cold nights, I believe a partial reason for this could be due to my desire keep on travelling, keep on moving, but I found myself static, having small urges to flee but also wanting to take my time, extend my budget as much as possible and absorb all there is. But I had only been there 11 days, I told myself, its to easy to see how people say 'the road is addictive', it may well be, but it is also severely exhausting, so in that way, a temporary home is welcome...

New reservoir, old cloud

Hitch hiking and various other pastimes #12

Prickly pears & Moorish settlements

After passing multiple hippy vans at the top of the hill, behind the white church, I was in cave territory, 'Las Cuevas'. It was a strange area with lots of litter strewn all over the place, but also nicely kept (illegal) caves. I walked around on the little pathways, hither and thither and was starting to head back down to the centre, when I passed some abandoned cave-dwellings and suddenly heard loud barking out of nowhere behind me, then a large appeared, snarling and barking aggressively, before I knew it, it had gone for me. I instinctively turned my back on it and stumbled into the cacti behind me. Then it was gone and I ascended the mountain in a state of shock, stopping at a painted van to rinse the small wound with some water. I hobbled back down the Albaizin area to tell John what had happened.

He informed me, to my relief, that there was no Rabies in the area, however I went back to my little room and rinsed it out further to be on the safe side. John had made a few euros that day so we headed to his 'local', a small bar 15 minutes walk away in downtown Granada. As he had mentioned, it was nothing special, but they knew him and the tapas were extremely good, which I can vouch for, as, between us we had a decent sized bowl of chips, meat and sauce to accompany out beverages of choice. The second tapas was skewered marinated meat with some bread. Especially good for John with his small budget and love for drinking, it was a 2 for 1 offer too good to turn down.

We watched the end of a Real Madrid thrashing and headed back to the casa, where we consumed a few more beers and talked late into the night, during which he mentioned his sustainable community project in Northern Spain, which sounds promising and he obviously knows alot about such matters, having connections in various such establishments.

After not being able to resist the combination of alcohol and cigarettes, I woke up with a sore head and throat, so I pepped myself up a bit by getting my first shower for nearly a week. Although the shower was a complicated old Spanish device, I figured it out and washed in the tiny little shower cubicle, with walls that were caving in on me, but, it was lovely feeling to be in warm clean water again.

The previous day, John had explained a walk that he sometimes took people on, 5-6 hours including a picnic, so I set off using my hazy memory of his rough directions as a guide. Past the ancient little pueblo of Sacramonte, where the original Gitanos or Gypsy's lived, past ferocious dogs behind ragged wire fences, mountain bikers and plenty of prickly pear cacti; until I arrived at the crossing over the small river and started to climb on the small dirt tracks from past paseo's and mountain bikers alike. It was lovely to walk alone again in the mountains, even though I was only 25 minutes from the city centre, the smells and noises all came flooding back and I found myself almost instinctively making noises to warn off wild boars.

After passing an inhabited cave almost 45 minutes up the mountain, I began to search for a suitable picnic location, but I decided I wanted a view to accompany to my sandwich and glow in the dark fruit juice, so i carried on clambering up through the scrub, past giant ants and noisy bee's until I reached a plateau of extremely red soil, where there were lots of mountain bike trails and more signs of life than before. I followed the main path round and was confronted by a picnic area with hundreds of Granadino's milling around in the shade of the pine trees. the noise was overwhelming after the tranquillity of my ascent and I sought solitude further down the hill, where I ate and drank, looking out over part of the city, towards my next destination; the spa-town of Lanjaron, the pueblo I went to school in, what an experience to be back there...would anyone recognise me? Probably not, although I half expected to see some familiar faces, or if not, at least places from a past life.

Hitch hiking and various other pastimes #11

 

..By that time it was 7 a.m. and I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I dozed off multiple times on the coach, while an elfish looking woman read about esoteric astrology next to me. As we neared Granada it started to rain, which I found peculiar, but it didn't last long and after 20 minutes I had reached Granada bus station safe and sound. I checked for a bus to Lanjaron, the small village in the Alpujarras, which was my next destination. There were several buses a day and for less than 5 Euros, but I decided to ring my HelpX hosts first.

I did this in an internet cafe, but only after I had wolfed down a 'bocadillo del calle' and some fruit. I sent a message to Sam and talked to Cowie breifly on the estranged internet, then rang Bastian & Inge, my prospective volunteer placement. The muffled voice on the end of the line told me to come on Monday as they had some stuff to sort out over the weekend. This wasn't what I was expecting to hear but decided to make the most of the situation and stay in Granada for the weekend.

I walked the few kilometres from the bus station to the centre of the city, with my back starting to hurt due to my heavy rucksack. I wandered around the tiny cobbled streets of the Albaizin, half searching for some hostels which I had scribbled down at the internet cafe. I didn't have much luck and ended up in Plaza Nueva, a bustling square right in the heart of the city, with the high court and one end and the start of the Moroccan-influenced Albaizin at the other, where the smells of incense, cooked meat, tobacco and rubbish drifted together seamlessly.

There were numerous people in and around the square, foreign tourists, Spanish tourists and locals, but I stumbled upon John, the English artist who was sketching the square on a large sheet of brown paper in order to collect some change from passers by. I sat on my bag and talked for a while with him, mentioning that I was looking for a place to stay for 2 nights, after which he suggested I try his landlord, as he could possibly give me a room for 10 Euro a night. So off I went to meet Rafael, the 78 year old, who'd lived his whole life in the centre of Granada, in his tiny 'casita' above the rooms which he rented out.

He was partially deaf and slightly senile, so communication was slow to say the least and when he described how the shower worked, I was lost completely. But I paid the 20 Euro and got my room, which was very basic but as John had said; a true taste of Andalucian architecture and living. After a week of tents and motorway services I was definitely looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed.

It was still early in the day so I headed back to Plaza Nueva and talked to John for a bit longer, who was an interesting guy, choosing to live in a way most people wouldn't; selling his sketches occasionally and getting change irregularly off tourists in order to pay his rent, which he said was as much as he could afford at any one time and Rafa was ok with that, mostly just wanting someone to look after the place downstairs and turf out and unruly residents. He had lots of stuff going on, working on various projects around Europe, both artistically and personally.

John recommended I take a walk up to the viewing point or Mirador, up through the Albaizin to the top of the hill. It sounded great so I headed up through the tiny streets, still taking in all the sights and smells and being so relieved to not have my backpack I was practically sprinting through the alleys.

Spain is covered in graffiti, from head to toe and Granada was no exception, with anti-everything graffiti on every corner, very much a refreshment from the British name tagging scallywag scrawls. I reached the viewing point and pondered over the lovely landscape for a few minutes, and as breathtaking as it was, I wanted to explore the caves which lay further down to the left...

To skateboard or not to skateboard...

Sorry for the lack of blog posts lately, I seem to have lacked enough motivation to just crack on and write some stuff that hardly anybody will read. Oh wait it kind of makes sense now, after saying that.

Anyway...

I have the a predicament, although to call it a predicament sounds negative, however I am happy with either choice, I simply can't decide.

I have been skateboarding for nearly 7 years now and still love it as much as I first did.. Last time I was away for a month I took my board but it lay untouched under my WWOOFer bed in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.

This time I will be hitchhiking longer distances, through France and Spain and then possibly through Italy, Slovenia, Croatia...

I have had various opinions from my friends on this matter, obviously biased depending on whether they skate or not. Some say I have to take it, missing out on a great park to skate or hooking up with the locals (skateboarders around the world have a tendency to help other skateboarders, its a group that you are instantly welcomed into). Others say it should stay at home, hitch-hiking and travelling in general is for me an escape from everyday life, and my skateboard is very much a part of my routine.

There is also the fact that I will be volunteering in the more mountainous regions in Spain, such as the Sierra Nevada and Picos de Europe. In these locations I can almost guarantee there will be minimal skateboarding activity/locations.

Alongside these factors is the awkwardness factor of carrying it all that way to not set foot on it, with it merely taking up space and weighing me down. However, if I find myself 15 miles from a town, on a flat road, it could be invaluable...but then again there is the fact that I [i]will[/i] have a 45l backpack on, which means my movement will be severely limited.

If I had to say whether I am swayed more toward bringing it or leaving it to gather dust at home, I would have to say the negatives seem to outway the positives at the moment.

Travel Plans

I set this blog up initially so I could write stuff from my travels, maybe I won't be writing them straight onto the world wide web, but hopefully they'll be getting on here eventually...
Personally I find reading travel blogs alot more interesting than the ones of people who sit at home and do day-to-day update of their lives.

So the basic plan was to get a lift down to Spain with a guy who contacted me via Helpx.net, however I had to let him know today that I've had to give it a miss, partly due to him not being easily contactable (this is a journey to Spain we're talking about, not just down the road..) and because I would like to try and push through another 3-4 weeks torture...I mean, work, in order to have a decent bank balance when I set off.

It was hard to turn that lift down, it seemed like it was going to be the spark that set the adventure motor running, but sometimes good things come to those who wait. It will also make it a bit easier for me and my girlfriend, who is planning on joining me mid-July, wherever I am.

So the plan is still to get to Spain by mid-March, now its just a case of figuring out how. I have had romantic visions of me getting a ferry to Amsterdam and hitch-hiking down, counting on the good hearts of other and good fortune of myself to make it to my destination. But in reality, I don't speak much French at all and it could take alot of time and patience. One day I will do it, I promise.

I really do not want to fly, although it is without a doubt the easiest and cheapest option, it seems like a complete cop-out, there is only a few miles of water between England and mainland Europe, only a fool would skip out all the good bits inbetween. So I'm still undecided on that one, but, however I end up getting there, I should hopefully end up in Andalucia, Spain. A place that holds a special place in my heart, after spending 6-7 months living in 2 remote mountain houses in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Since that time spent galavanting through the wild mountains, seeing hundreds of vultures circle up on vertical air currents, watching snakes slither into dry-stone walls, I have longed to be back there.

In 2009 I spent a month volunteering at a lovely little cortijo about an hour away from where we used to live. This was a fantastic time and I met many amazing people, however a month was just not enough and my longing to travel has no subsided since then. As I never fancied the prospect of university, coupled with the fact that I picked what I now see as the wrong options at college, travelling has become my major concern. Who knows, I might go to university someday in the future, but for now, while the world is still a reasonably normal place and I am lucky enough to have a European passport allowing me to travel almost completely freely, I feel it is my duty to see and feel as much of life as possible.

The cliche that travelling in 'infectious' is overused to put it lightly, but all cliche's are formed from truths and it is the uncertainty in this case that one craves, not knowing who you will be volunteering with, or where you will be tomorrow. For some people this is not even an option, they thought of having to pitch a tent somewhere in an unknown country to them is terrifying. But that surely is living. More so than 'living for the weekend'. Don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-party by any means, but theres partying and theres being a drunken lout just because you've got nothing better to spend your money on.

So after having my fill of Andalucia and all it has to offer, there is a possibility to head to Portugal, a place I have never been, to stay with and English couple I met whilst volunteering 3 years ago. Another location on my agenda is Asturias, Northen Spain. A place compared more to Scotland than anywhere else, its beauty is in its rugged-ness. A place where bears still wander the barranco's. I found a HelpX host who is renovating an old hamlet with a group of volunteers. They forage for food and sleep under the stars, in what sounds to me like a mini-paradise. I like to think they haven't got back in touch yet because there is no internet connection, although we will have to wait and see...

Reasons for travelling...

So, one of my potential Helpx hosts got in touch yesterday, albeit only with a brief email, asking for dates...I don't know if anyone else notices this, but whenever I send an e-mail I tend to elaborate on things, I like to think that it makes things clearer and you get a sense of at least trying to form some conversation. However, in reply I often recieve blunt email, consisting of no more than a few words...

Overanalyzing? Maybe but still...is it that hard to write a few lines regarding the questions asked?

Anyway, I am now waiting to hear from a guy who was advertising a lift down to Spain/Portugal, and once that is confirmed and I know I have somewhere to volunteer, I shall be gone. On a boring (but possibly life-saving) note, the AA quoted me 6 months travel insurance for £108. Seems reasonable to me.

So now for the local issues...I shall try to find a video of the local news that I was watching last night, which was based on the Occupy Wall Street protests outside the cathedral in Sheffield, UK. In this interview, the protestors were not only being dealt eviction notices but the cathedral was also seeking compensation for loss of funds, I believe the sum was for £8000, which if it goes ahead would be paid by 14 indivuduals. Very Reverend Peter Bradley said in the interview, that he had 'no choice' but seek compensation and that “There’s a broad consensus that it’s time for this protest to end.”

Which made me think, although I do not know too much about religion, that a Cathedral is a place of 'God'... and surely if 'God' was watching this scenario unfold, He would understand that the people campaigning outside the cathedral are there for beneficial reasons concerning the rest of the population here on our planet.

I also fail to see how the protestors have managed to financially damage the cathedral to such an extent. Seriously, have that many people not donated to the cathedral? Perhaps it is because they cannot reach the entrance due to the abundance of tents? Somehow I don't think so.

On the point of the Occupy protest, I think the idea is great, of course it is, I myself have often thought what could be done to try and gain some sort of foothold in the ludicrous, money-grabbing world that we live in...it seems the church has now joined in this gameplay. However the way the media portray the protestors, to the general public is something I find slightly unnerving. They are shown to be desperate people; the minority, the 'wierdos outside the cathedral'. Without these kind of people who are willing to actually take a stand for something that truly needs changing, nothing would ever be achieved. Just because most people can read this comfortably from their high speed broadband laptop and watch the local news on their lovely 32" hd tv...doesn't mean that something isn't wrong with the world today.
Happy to just live a boring, unfulfilled life, with the occasional weekend excursion for some 'excitement'. This is just one of the reasons I wish to escape the everyday life of urban English living. To experience solitude and tranquility without the interference of any kind of media.

'The educated can't be held down' - Akala

Getting behind

As I knew I would, I've got very far behind on my blog, this is partly due to my lazyness and partly because I got a job working nights in a warehouse in order to fund some travels this summer.

I have been working there for just over a month I reckon now but have had to have nearly two weeks off because of back and stomach problems, was told that I wasnt eligible for statutory sick pay, but I believe I should be after over 10 days off.

The plan is to save as much as possible, however this will not mean I will have a lot of money for my travels, as about £2000 looks like the limit I will reach. I have joined www.helpx.net and have wrote to two hosts, one in Asturias, northern Spain and one in Andalucia. Both look spectacular, and as I have visited these regions before I know of their natural beauty, albeit it in different ways.

I am trying to convince a Swedish friend to meet me in Amsterdam sometime between February and the end of March, then to try and hitchhike down to one of these two locations. I have also written to a 'travel companion' request on helpx, from a guy driving down to Spain/Portugal in a VW camper, which would make for a grand experience.

Having been contemplating life and whilst being ill and sleep deprived, I have come to the conclusion that it is not satisfactory to merely spend my days slaving away in an awful warehouse full of criminals and other such peoples, and although I count myself lucky to have acquired a job, it is not the life for me. 2 weeks in a place such as that, taught me that I must get away and live a more fulfilled life. It seems peculiar that from one nights wage in the warehouse, even though it is almost half of what the other employees recieve (I am working through an agency), I should be able to live a comfortable week in the wild regions of Spain. This is mainly because of the arrangement of working for food and lodging, but to me working on a mountain simply does not seem like work, for the beauty of the place and the fulfilment of the tasks, lead the mind away from the fact it is an exchange of labour.

I shall try to update on a more regular basis from now on.