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5 – What the f. am I doing here?

20 October, 2011

It were 5.30 p.m, almost 12 hours I was at stake and I knew I had at least 4 hours left of this torture. Sitting on a small buseta with seats smurfs sized, surrounded by bad, dirty and ugly campesinos, the biggest of them sitting on my side, invading my space even without intention.

Outside my window I could only see mountains walls, so close the only effect was just increase my sense of claustrophobia. Someone at regular intervals, was releasing such bad-smelling farts that everyone was opening the window even if outside was cold and it was raining almost non stop since the day before.

The road was so bumpy I could not even listen my i-pod and digit on it. Luckily I had no feeling of vomit, even if the little food I had ingested was jumping unrelentingly up and down my stomach. Even sleeping was objectively hard, surely I was not helped by the mawkish, tedious vallenato music the driver was blaring out to ease our trip.

Nobody obliged me to hop on that bus and the destination, San Agustin, was just a place I heard good things about, but I was not particularly anxious to discover, the real reason it was exactly two months since my last trip and I need a change of scenery for few days.
Yes, of course I asked my self what the f. am I doing here?

To tell the truth, I ask that every time I move, because as much as I love traveling, as much I hate take a bus. Drive a car or a motorbike (my favorite way of traveling)? Flying, something so many people have terror even if statistically it is the safest way of traveling? All another topic. A train? Maybe. But if I have to take a bus or traveling on the water, it is always hard. If it is a chicken bus, then it is always a via Crucis.
What I was doing then, suffering on that bus, little comforted by the fact that most of my companions was not wandering around like me, but had to be on that route often and probably just to survive?
The awareness that once I had found a room where to leave my bag, I was ready for a new place to discover, new people to meet, new food to try, just fresh new air to breath. A new beginning, a new adventure, to know that at least for a day or two I would be out of the mental prison, everybody build for our self. Yes, traveling. As today I don’t know a better antidote to l’ennui, a better way to learn from life.

Tools & Tricks
Le zie dei Fanti – Someone recognized in the title a quote from Bruce Chatwin, as it is a quote Le zie dei fanti, lost in translation from italian, the title of the first book from Lindo Boludo. To be honest I read little and without being impressed of Chatwin, but every time I travel and find my self in an uncomfortable situation, here he come to give me company and remembering me I am not alone.

Why traveling – This article from The Guardian is another good explanation why traveling is so good for me and for everyone. Well, maybe almost everyone, since someone else think the opposite: Why Not traveling – While I was searching for a picture of a crowded chicken bus on a bumpy mountain road, without finding one, I stumbled upon this website.

Public Places where I wrote
Panaderia Royal Garden y Zona Zero Cafè, both facing the main square of San Agustin, where I could take free wi fi. If only internet was working on average of 5 minutes every 2 hours. Hey, at least I had a plugin for my pc! But since I need a working connection I moved to a cafeteria where next to me where sitting drunk men smoking and in the air there was a mawkish tedious vallenato music that was so loud I was afraid this music could just make my heart exploding one moment or another. A good exercise of concentration I’d say.


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