Sunday, December 25, 2011

Time for a break

And in the way to complete the second month of my trip, I will make my first break in this blog. Thus, new posts only in 2012. In this week of celebration, I hope you spent a great Christmas, and have an excellent entry in 2012.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Chronicle: Little Village


I feel the gentle touch of something in my shoulder. I look up to see what it is. Yellow petals float towards me thrown by the hands of a friendly waiter of the restaurant. I smile because I know what it means. He returns the smile and tells me "it is to give you good luck." I put together the hands in sign of gratitude.

I feel blessed, not only for this gesture, but for all that I've experienced. I am sure that Ganesha is looking out for me. As I am sure that I entered into that mystical India that charms us, not only by her beauty, but for all that moves us inside.

Hampi is a beautiful place to visit this India. Is not large enough to swallow you with their stimullus, but it's already full of “indian” details. It is located in the northern part of Karnakata and most of all is a village surrounded by temples and magnificent landscapes.

Hampi Bazaar

Color, color and more color. It's everywhere. On the bench for sale, on the walls of houses, on the clothes people wear. Even the smiles of children who approach you looking for your name, photo and a few rupees seem to have a special color. Spreads everywhere and infects you. Hampi is a small historic and tourist village. Historic in two ways. Center of centenarians temples and because it will disappear. The colorful tourist part of the village will be demolished (already started).

Its streets, paved or naked, have a special touch that melts everything. You feel that the old and new, the genuine and tourist, live hand in hand in a strange harmony. In the spotlight is Virupaksha Temple - one of the incarnations of Shiva. With its 50 meters tower, “indianly” decorated, it doesn't escape your attention. Here everything seems to revolve around it and is an ever-present element that watchs and protects you.

A few meters below runs the river Turgabahdra, landscape of daily life. The baths and laundry occupies its banks, while its staircase serves as a place for a contemplating one of the most beautiful landscapes. Something to savor at our own pace, which can be at the click of a photo or of a beautiful sunset.

Vittala Temple and Royal Complex

Sometimes the path is more important than the place of arrival. I don't say this to devalue the hihglight sites. Without doubt, the Vittala temple - with its stone chariot - will be a everlasting memory. Here everything is lacy, as we imagine “Hindustan” would be. And the Royal Complex will bring a peacefullness of green spaces. The Lotus Pavilion, although simple, is a hymn to harmony of undulating shapes. From any angle it is always of a magical symmetry. You just loose the sense of time while walking around. Almost it hypnotizes you.

However, all this is connected by paths that lead you to magnificent landscapes and leave you amazed even with the simplest things. The whole region is made up of small-large grains that constitute the mountains, margins and balance itself by the magic of this place.

The region is vast and can be made by bicycle or motorbike. Being a odd person, I did it on foot. And despite the fatigue, this rythum lets you see people moving around. You will be approached by many with genuine interest in finding out who is this stranger who passes there. You can also see functional temples and how the respect for the deities is felt. Or just admire rusty leftovers from a height of a more rural era.


Hanuman temple

And when we walk by places that we don't know, we will eventually get lost. But when travelling, very few times it has a negative charge. This was no exception. It was a chance to go down paths through the rocky hills of Hampi and the privilege of meeting Oscar, an English traveler - and share with him a great conversation. Another moment that my trip delivered me.

When I met him - in the middle of a group of people who were practicing climbing - I was completely lost. Looking for the Hanuman temple should be easy. It is on top of a mountain. Strangely I couldn't see it. So I didn't have any reference guide. Once I asked him for directions, he offered to show me the way. We ended up going through the middle of rice paddies. By now they almost all are dry, except that one that serves as a seed crop for the next harvest. This one is bright green like India. We crossed the river - which at first seemed an insurmountable obstacle - to reach a rural village. After a while we are at the bottom of 570 steps that lead us to the temple. By mid-rise we stopped in the shade of a tree and ended up surrounded by monkeys. It seems that we are on a balcony of the world such is the breadth of our vision.

With the ascent made, and conveniently bare feet, we arrived at the birthplace of a God, Hanuman. All around us the landscape induces us into a silent contemplation.

The descent is easy. The walk was excellent, accompanied by a conversation that brought us into this world and another. That led us to the past, present and future. When I left I had already realized of having lived one more magical moment of my trip. Oscar is the personification of world traveler, with a selfless generosity, an open mind of its surroundings, and a culture that nurtures a good conversation and keens you into other dimensions of this life we live.

I was not to be here. Hampi wasn't part of my plans. But the hint of an Iranian and Portuguese friends and the smile that the mention of Hampi would arouse in people, waken my curiosity. I needed to know what Hampi was all about. And now that I read what I wrote I know that I didn't gave it justice in my description. Hampi is not only temples or landscapes. Not only the diversity or the villager spirit. Hampi carries a spell that is hard to transform into words. If I had to describe in a nutshell I would say that Hampi is the place where you can enjoy India at your own pace. And that alone is something magical ...

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Le Moi Errant : The path


Traveling is letting the way find us. Sounds simple, but the obstacle is more complicated than it seems. I was accustomed to seek for what I want. This was a natural instinct. Almost unconsciously, trying to build momentum. As we learn to build our life. But that blind us to what is around us and we never find the way.

I had to redo the way my life was before. And this change has opened unexpected doors to me. Today I feel a strange calm. Occasionally, even uncomfortable. I was accustomed to the emotional roller coaster. For years fueled me to write. I feel now that I have to rebuild to continue that dream.

But I know that from this reconstruction is born something more powerful. More genuine than what I had done to date. I start now to tailor my tools. Little by little. With the assurance that the writer in me will find me. Like did the way. I won a battle with my greatest enemy - myself - aware that others will come.

But what is my path? It's the one of moments, smiles and looks. The path of coincidences and emotions. Feeling each site that is offered me. They are small clues that lead me to the next step of this journey ...

Letter to a stranger


Dear stranger,

Where are you now? You thought you would find the exotic but only found life. Neither the transformation of public space into a public w.c. shockes you. The cows that wander are part of your life and the monkeys jumping from branch to branch are just one more detail of your village.

Where are you now? You thought of finding other worlds and you just find that you are part of a larger one. That barefoot children share the same smile and the joy as the ones back home. That here, as back there, you have to be alert for anyone who wants to trick you but always open to anybody who is willing to help you.

You no longer surprised by the lively colors that make up your vision. Don't feel distant, but that the palm trees that line beside the river are your landscape. Something that comforts your soul. Fills you with tranquility.

Where are you now? Where did you go with your insecurity and fear of the unknown? Thought you would find it faraway but just found a village that is yours, people who are your peers and a world that is also yours.

You should be here, by my side, as I am happy to find new worlds in my world. Not feel the absence but the presence, and don't feel distant but the proximity of mankind. But I think I know where you are. You are within me. It was you that permited me to be here today, to live this life and write these words ...

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Welcome to India


It was better to say "Welcome to India." Instead he tells me "It's 10 rupees." I look incredulously at such request. It is the first time someone asks me for money to put the luggage in the compartiment of the bus. My passive “latinity” does the math and ultimately pays the rupees. With that task accomplished, I go into the bus and start the journey that would lead me to Hampi.

Inside - and after a failed attempt to find the numbers – I ask "Where is my place?"
"This is it!" Says the reviewer pointing to one that is occupied by an Indian.
"What?" A question that was more "Ok... There is one person there..."
"This, this!" And by this time he was angry at my insistence. Very reluctantly asks the man to leave and I occupy my bed. I lie down extended to stress that this is just for me. Once the journey starts, the reviewer asks me if someone else can sit on the bed. My first instinct is to say no, but I see no reason to deny. To avoid misuse I continue to occupy the whole place.

I realize the ridiculousness of my position. In fact, in this place, fits two people. The most that I achieve is to let someone else in an uncomfortable position. I tell him, by gestures, to sit at ease. He responds with a smile of gratitude and surprise. Perhaps because of the time spent in Goa, this type of situation no longer bothers me.

I sleep the rest of the journey until an audible "Hampi Bazaar" awakes me. Look at my watch in disbelief. We arrive one hour earlier. It could be seen as good news, but it was five in the morning. And at this time the guesthouse was still closed.

I put a foot off the bus and I am attacked by rickshaw drivers. "Rickshaw! Rickshaw! Rickshaw! Do you want Rickshaw? What do you want? " At this hour is still easy to ignore them.

After five minutes, I am again approached
- "What do you want?"
- "Nothing"

- "What do you want?"
- "Nooothing"

After a few repetitions:

- "What do you want?"
- "Sunrise"
- "I got it" I look astonished
- "Yes .. yes ... I've got it "
- "You've got sunrise?! How do you have sunrise? "
- "I take you to see sunrise ..."

And with my curiosity satisfied, I tell him that I don't want it. Just want the sun to rise in order to go looking for my bed. I decide to wait near the food stalls.

Enough time to be aproached by another driver. He gives me a card with the guesthouse I booked. I smile to myself and think that after all I don't have to wait anymore. I develop the conversation and finally agreed to go with him. We were close so he tells me that I pay what I want. Five seconds later and I'm already at the door.

He insists that there are other cheaper and better guesthouses. Also speaks to another woman who insists on seeing her home. I thank them but explain that I already booked Padma Guesthouse. The driver insists to show me others and I see what is happenning. I wait to the guesthouse to open. I have given my word.

After speaking with the driver, the woman of Padma tells me that there aren't rooms with air conditioning. I explain that I had booked with, but I don't mind getting one without. She increases the price that she had said on the phone.

I get tired of this situation and decided to return to the terminal. The driver then asks me the money - which by this time I had been expecting - and I give him the 10 rupees with the assurance that it would be the last he received from me. He offered to take me to the terminal, but I was not interested. I arrive to find it empty of fellow travelers. I am alone among the locals. I decide to sit next to a street food stand that just opened.

I ask for a tea to kill time. Drivers came and went. Always wondering who I was, if I had room, and giving the insistent availability to go with them. I choose to follow the example of the Buddha, and just keep sitting in this place. I explain to them my Buddha Style, which confuses them enough to leave me alone.

With the sun in sight, I decide to start the search. I start walking sure that the peace of Goa was past and I was about to enter a very different reality ...

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Other travelers II - Lisa, the interior designer


Behind the traveler there is an interest, a taste or a vision. Mine, you already know, is writing. Lisa's is interior design. I knew her in the Ordo Sounsar. Perfect place to meet interesting people.

We shared conversations, exchanged experiences. She, and her husband, are traveling in Asia for six months. I found out Lisa's activity by sharing a common task - posting articles on the blog. It awoke my attention. I like design and especially interior. I like the occupation of empty spaces - something inherent in human beings - and the ability of this art to transform physical into emotional places.

The site is called Natural Modern Interiors. I like to draw attention to the post about Goa and Ordo Sounsar. The photos are beautiful and almost makes me say that we didn't go to Goa if we didn't see these posts. See these and others that are equally interesting. No doubt, another way to travel and look at the places where we are.

And if by chance, you have an interest in Interior Design, you can also "spy" the work that Lisa's company - Interior Designs - recently did.

I feel lucky to have known them. No doubt enriched my journey. I hope you like the suggestion and also end up traveling in the "interiors" of other countries. I can only wish them all the luck and success in the world...

Other travelers I- Nuno Cruz, the lusitan traveler


The path always brings other travelers. I "knew" him before I left. The result of a mutual friend - Andre Escorcio. I took sometime to contact him. He had gone before me and I didn't want to be influenced by his first impressions.

I speak of Nuno Cruz, another Portuguese traveler who went in the ways of this world. Luckly, he will also describes the moments and impressions that he has in his journey. I leave here the link to his blog. He has a traveler's writing and his photos are amazing.

I already contacted him by mail and was greeted by his great sympathy. If our paths cross, the promise of a meeting. It will be interesting to share common and uncommon thoughts. It will be one more moment of my trip.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Ordo Sounsar


The first time is unique. An unrepeatable moment. It leaves a mark on you. It is sometimes planned, others appear unexpectedly. In both cases, your body is filled with anxiety when you realize that the time is coming.

My first time appeared unexpectedly. I spent one day more in Palolem to see the full moon. There was a power cut while en route to the restaurant. In absence of light, I remember why I was there and look at the sky. I think it's ironic that the reason I was doesn't materialize. The night is cloudy and the moon stubbornly wants to be behind them. I give rein to my imagination and think it would be interesting if the absence wasn't because of the clouds but of an eclipse.

I wasn't upset. The light was strong enough and I was in an'Other World. This was the name chosen by Serafin: Other World - Ordo Sounsar. And the care that had employed in every detail made us move to that world. You had the iconic bridge and the location in the woods. The small number of huts. The restaurant at its center - ideal place to enjoy the perfectly prepared dishes. The resting place along the river with a magnificent view. It was the pleasure of being an eco-friendly space. Where each piece of wood is certified. Weaving all these details was the sympathy of JD, Serafin and all employees. More than a physical space they created a perfect emotional one.

I wait for my meal in a magical candlelight scenario. I hear a buzz coming from the bar area. Serafin is walking back and forth. I don't pay attention. I guess it's the stress of the power-out. But when I hear the word "eclipse" all my senses awaken. Intrigued, I decide to take the next opportunity that Serafin is around to ask him. When I receive confirmation I don't want to believe. My first eclipse... like this... so unexpected... My body wants to jump with joy but is content with a huge smile.

"We have binoculars" J.D. tells me and I join them in this moment. The moon, indifferent to our happiness, covers itself with the shadow of the earth. It knows that is the center of attention and embellishes itself more every minute. Changes color. We, mesmerized by the moment, let ourselves go to the fragile wooden bridge. There, in the middle of nowhere, we can contemplate the beauty of this moment. In front of us is the silhouette of palm trees. Behind us, the waves composing the most beautiful symphony. And above us, the stars weave a beautiful shiny coat. They now can break through the shyness imposed by the full moon. It's a dark and well-defined sphere. A forbidden fruit we could pick up and enjoy if we wanted. But we don't, everything is perfect as it is.

"The meal is ready" and I'm ready for the meal. I feel the confort of the moment. In front of me, the moon strips of its cloak. I delight with each bite of food that I experienced. All wrapped up with a good conversation and good company. The moment of the moon passed. Never got to see it full. It was now a detail of the other world where I was living...

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

A strange elixir


Walk through the streets of the market. Step unnoticed, perhaps because of my skin complexion. This gives me the freedom to see the antiques, musical instruments or necklaces that are being sold. Here and there, spice and music. I take the time and wander around.

"Do you want to come in?" A woman asks me with a  enigmatic look. I do not have much interest but I wonder "why not?" I had time and she had awakened my attention. Her hair, though a plain brown, bore the image of the wild. Her presence exuded a calm and curiousity to see more.

"Please sit down ... I will bring it in a moment "I do a look of astonishment. She reciprocates with a smile and a shake of the head. Moves away to another room. Even before leaving, passes through an image of Christ and blesses. She disappears behind a curtain. I can see a glimpse of what lurks there. A beautiful but messy garden. Left to fate. Instead of dominating nature they let it take its place. And she had created a small but beautiful retreat.

Back to the room. She seems more beautiful than before. I notice further details. I see the cross tattooed on her hand, the gentle walk and the bright colors of her sari. "Take it ..." she said while delivering a small bottle. I do not know what to do with it. She makes a gesture to drink it. First I suspect, but I let myself go with the moment.

I feel a deep calm around me. The concerns disappear. I feel good and at peace. I can wander. Smile with the simple things in life. It is no longer complicated. My skin feels a warm moisted heat. She left the room and this time leaves the curtain open. I watch and the green has become brighter. The trees are made up with flowers. I see the different birds that jump on their branches, while a monkey watches me. Above the canopy a eagle flies. Look at my watch and I know that it's almost time to leave. I stay a little more...

When I finally get up, I read what is written on the bottle. One word: "GOA"

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

A Sweet Break


"Can I take a photo?" I ask him "Are you Portuguese?" He replies. And with this my journey begins.

The day before was spent getting used to the tropical climate of India. It was a tremendous shock. From the cold winter of Tehran to the tropical heat of Goa, in less than 24 hours. My whole body resented, and that day I could do little more to feed and rest.

"Yes, yes ... yesterday I came here, I saw the symbol and wanted to take a ... "

"Oh, from Sporting |a portuguese football team| …" he answered with a big smile.

After all we belonged to the same family. And with the kindness of his 70 years, provides me a chair to sit. It presents, "Bento." He's, among other things, the president of the Goa's Sporting Center and also speaks Portuguese - something that is almost extinct here. We exchanged a few words, I'll tell him what I'm doing and he is offers to help me around. I feel adopted and that brings a special comfort. A new security for another leg of this trip ...

Panjim and Old Goa

It was love at first sight. I do not know if it's the heat, the lush vegetation or semi-Lusitanian flavor that it still holds. Something attracted me and I surrendered. I love the little touches of portuguese style and how they are adopted and adapted to Indian culture. It is a unique landscape and architecture. In itself, the capital is not very big but is very pleasant to be. Following the counsel of Mr. Bento I come to experience the best Puri Baghi, a tasty Xacuti and a divine bebinqa.

The first was in the cafe Tato. An ever-filled space. I find, to my astonishment, that this specialty is served more like breakfast -  or similar  - than a starter. I'm still not accustomed to spicy, so it is with much talent that I try to separate the small pieces of chillies, while I eat the rest. The other dishes I tasted them in the restaurant Viva Panjim. And if, by itself, the food is worth the trip, this restaurant located in an alley in the neighborhood of Fontainhas is very beautiful. A family bussiness. The restored house leads us to an era when Goa was at its prime.

The city is within short distance of Old Goa. We can get there by bus. And this is an adventure in itself. Forget the number and bus stop. Here, to find your bus, just understand what the numerous cries mean. "Ol'go, ol'go, ol'go, ol'go, ol'go, ol'go, ol'go, ol'go, ol'go, ol'go" yells a man in less than a second. It sounds close to what I want to go so I ask the man to be sure. I go for the little-but-still plenty-of room left over. Here nothing is wasted, and in the Indian bus always fit one more person.

We managed to reach Old Goa. There is a festival and  a small crowd rushed to the site. I like how people arrange themselves for it. What seemed to be a neighborhood party, becomes a social event and everyone wants to be dressed up. Walk through the confusion of the fair. The calm air of the statue of Gandhi contrasts to the more or less chaotic movement in the streets. I have learned that beyond the apparent chaos, there is an order that ultimately flows to everything. You only need to pick up the pace and things no longer seem disorganized ... - Ok, so disorganized.

I end up spending the afternoon in the crowd. Watching the families on picnics, the religiosity of the people or the schemes of vendors. A glimpse at what's coming ...

Mandrem

I couldn't believe when I arrived. A hut and a beach. Along this journey I discovered that you can fulfill your childhood dreams. And if Iran I became a millionaire, here fulfilled the dream to live in a hut by the sea. Mandrem is one of the many beaches that we can find in North Goa. Who coined the phrase "dolce fare niente" must have gone through here. This area calls for it. For the first time I feel happy to do nothing.

I enjoy the first break. I felt I need this moment. Doing nothing, think of nothing, no sightseing. Walk through this velvety sand beach you get to Arambol beach. This one, with more movement, seems a lost paradise for hippies. With a few bars, many street shops and a road that follows the sea coast.

And sometimes the doing nothing brings good moments. From a "what did you order?" develops an excellent conversation. It becomes one more moment of this trip. I feel privileged. To have the opportunity to travel and luck in finding so many interesting people. I wonder what I did to deserve so much. I know it will never be answer. I don't care. It is important to enjoy the moment, to experience emotions and sensations of each location. Here, the feeling of a perfect place to live happily without doing a thing ...

Palolem

I will not forget this moment. The first I saw a wild monkey. It was in the way to Palolem - a beach in South Goa. In a street that cuts a small tropical mountain, a cream and slim monkey ran down the road just to jump to the branches of trees in front. A small sign that this area was very different from the North.

From where I sit now, I see beautiful butterflies, cheeky squirrels, jumpy monkeys or eagles. I followed one more advice - this time from my friend Isabel Braz - and I'm in a beach hut in Palolem. Ordo Sounsar is the name of this space. A small collection of huts at the end of the beach. The owners transmite a hospitality that we feel at home. J.D., the owner, tells me how this site appeared. By pointing to the site, Serafin, her boyfriend, replied with a "but you can not cross to that side" - the site is at the northern end of this crescent beach, beyond the limits of the river - "build up a bridge "JD answered him with the strength of those who envision a dream. And so, we feel in a tropical getaway as you walk through this small and fragile wooden bridge. Something that looked like an obstacle became a local icon.

Around here the time develops slowly. I spend days between kayaks, hiking, diving or hang around and writing. Outside, on the beach, sellers try to attract customers, people have fun playing cricket, or football. Cows enjoy the cool beach and rest, while tourists come and go depending on the activity they are doing. I finally decided to stay along the river to write. Taste the breeze and the local dialect of employees. With a huge smile on my face.

Goa is a sweet break. A good place to initiate a venture in India. It contains many aspects of this culture, but exudes a calm that allows me to adapt to this world. Everyone tells me to prepare. India is the University of traveler. Goa was my stage. A preparation for what is coming. Here I take special moments, friendly people, and sure I'll still come back on this trip. I didn't tell you yet, but in the midst of so much help, Mr. Bento has offered to hold my backpack while I'm in India. Therefore in Goa, more than a goodbye, I say see you soon ...

Monday, December 12, 2011

Le Moi Errant: The writer in me ...

This trip has brought many special moments. Each, a treasure that I keep  and changes me. Perhaps the biggest change is to admit what I always been: a writer. I know the tough road ahead. The nightmares of the blank paper, the fear of the opinion of others. Showing what you write is always an intimate act. And is the moment of our greatest weakness.

Until now I always pointed writing to the place of dreams. Those things you want to do but in your intimate find it impossible. It was the simplest solution. If writing exposes our weaknesses, the commit that we are writers - not accountants, doctors, teachers, security guards, receptionists, etc ... - is an emotional suicide. After you do this - assuming that I am a writer - there is no possible return.

But it's the only way to realize our dream. It's necessary that commitment. Only with the possibility of failure that one can achieve something. I came to realize that with this trip. Not only it represents the fulfillment of a dream, but demonstrates that, beyond this first step, there is no hell but life.

I don't know yet the writer in me. It is a work in progress. Just know that I am. Always have been. Just didn't have the courage to say so. And now let come the success and failure. the hard work and some inspiration. And then, as with everything in life, we'll see ...

P.S. I dedicate this post to three future writers I met along the way. They guided me to this moment. Allowed me these words. And I cross my fingers so that you have all the success ...

Sunday, December 11, 2011

A sunset...


It was one of the toughest exercises. Describe the sunset. I was offered by Katya, my former teacher-maybe-future-teacher-and-now-more-than-all-friend. It was really complicated. It's almost impossible not to fall into a common place. At the time, my solution was to recall the most recent and striking sunset that I had seen - on a beach near Amsterdam - and try to describe it without ever mentioning the sunset by itself.

It is impossible to speak in Goa and not to mention its sunset. Think of all the clichés as they apply. I don't describe it. Not for lack of options, but because just found out how personal it is. You don't have one sunset, you have millions. Each one is unique. As the person who observes it. For this is the real sunset. A moment of deep contemplation. For each person, a thought, a different emotion. And as the sun becomes a red-enigma ball, before disappearing into the ocean mist, each of us travels to a different place. Go to a image of our past, to a desire in our future. Hypnotize ourself and destroy the time around us.

Yet, we all share this time of contemplation. I am not alone in the rock, tropical beach or in this country. I share the moment with millions of others. Nobody talks, nobody says anything, but keep the secret common to all humanity of another sunset...

The dive


I can't believe it. Have my feet in hot water, a smile on my face and almost having my first dive. I'm here in Goa, seconds from being immersed in this water. Behind me the coconut trees make me company. They tell me it's real. In the euphoria I give a mortal. Another and another one. Happiness spreads through my body. The smile gets even bigger. I don't control it, I don't try. I seize the moment, as I have done it all along the trip. Grateful for so many.

And that is just life. Nothing is a simple thing. Each second, gesture or moment carries a life. This time, the certainty that the dream has been replaced by reality. But it is just a dive. Like many others That I have already done. Diving, get wet and come to the top. Demonstrating that, sometimes, are  simple things that bring happiness ...

Sometimes it's hard ...


Sometimes it's hard. Looking for a good angle, trying a new approach and... nothing! For each trial, a new failure. Write and rewrite at the rhythm of my fingers. Knowing that when something is writen, your mind says to delete it. Push the button and despair. The problem is that there is so much to say.

Goa is full of stimuli. You do not have time to watch everything that your body notices. Whether it's fresh breeze, the stressfull life of insects, the small chaotic traffic, everything moves and touches you. Goa seems a little India with Portuguese flavor. Here everything is calmer that it must be elsewhere in the country. I already begin to notice small details that confirm you are in India. The cows walk around the road and at the beach. The traffic already has some chaos. And the heads wave to confirm your request. The Portuguese, heard here and there, ensures that you are still in Goa.

But it is impossible to find an angle to transmit all this tropical flora, all the fauna that jumps here and there or all the calm rhythm that you end up feeling. Here there is time for everything. And for a European - even though Portuguese - this is a bit confusing. Sometimes you think they don't understand, other you bet they do understand but don't care. In any case, only with time you receive confirmation. In those minutes you can only wait. Something that you quickly get used.

In the midst of this landscape, the sound of gentle waves, you forget the stress of life. Beyond the palm trees there can be a world, but you don't want to know it. The sea hypnotized you and the music, played by the Indian guitar, accompanies the state in which you plunged ...

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Time for a break


Traveling is to have multiple geographies within us. You go from one place to the other, but you don't let go where you've been. For anyone who writes about his traveling experience this can be confusing. You are in several places at once. I came to India after a remarkable experience in Iran. And I was still enjoying my passion for the desert landscape and already I was presented with a lush tropical landscape. Here everything explodes with life. Moist heat is imperative. The lungs fill with oxygen. A real contrast to what I had seen and got use to.


The body - and mind - doesn't know how to react. The amount of stimulus is tremendous and there is almost a sense of powerlessness. I feel lost. I have never experienced such a thing. And as with everything on this trip, I'm learning to deal with this situation.

I follow the advice of my body: it is time for a break. To experience the sweet business of doing nothing. Living without concern except for the moment. No other intention other than to exist. No doubt it was time for my first pause. And I have to admit, the site selection was perfect. The beaches of Goa call for that. They tell me: "It's okay. Don't worry. The journey is just in the beginning and there is still much to enjoy. It can wait. Now it's time to take a break..."


Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Where is my book?!


In fact the book is no longer mine. I speak of the guide book of Turkey. On the last day I decided to give it to someone who could make use of it. My only request was that when he would find no more use for it, he would hand it over to another person. The later is responsible to send me a mail so I know where is the book.

And I could not find a better person give it. I met Chris in a icy Inn in Göreme. I tourist, he was still working there. But this work is only a stopover on the project that is developing. Chris is also a traveler, but one with an inspiring project.

The project is called All School Project - Chris is touring the world by bicycle, going from school to school, asking the children to draw homes and then go deliver these drawings to children from other schools elsewhere in the world. A simple way of opening channels of communication and to improve our world. No doubt a major project, in which Chris and his team are to be congratulated.

Go to the site to know more, support, even if it is only a like in the Facebook page of the project. Of course, for those who are connected to schools and are interested in the idea just send a mail and get in touch with him.

As for the book I hope it helps somehow Chris and I am curious to know what hands will it stop next...

Dubai


Dubai appeared on my journey as a zooish curiosity. An opportunity in a trip between Iran and India. I wanted to know this desert-created polis.

Once at the airport, I had the notion of being in a very different world from where I came from. The scenario of the large and polished hall of the airport conveyed me to the feeling of being in a five star hotel. By the time I could even imagine that I was in a European city. Around me there was no veil and everything seemed organized. Of course in the customs check point, with its warning to certain rules of conduct, made me come back to reality.

Since I had little time, I ended up choosing to do one of the city's highlights. In this case, the Burj Al-Khalifa, the world's tallest building. Since I had to do something, I owuld do something that is only possible in Dubai. And I realize that this must be the dominant way of thinking. I feel that people wanted to create a unique place, a unique experience. What counts is to be big or bigger. Things that money makes possible.

After leaving the functional dubai metro, I got my first view of this spear pointed to the sky. Impressive, as impressive as the number of buildings being built. Beside residential homes I encounter monsters of concrete and glass. Step by Armani Hotel - luxury, luxury, luxury - and follow the clean road that leads me to the Dubai Mall - the world's largest – a gateway to climb this human made mountain.

Inside, modernity greets me. I forget my simple facet of wandering traveler and become a tourist. After all, here it is what I am. And with ticket in hand I'm coming to the elevator smiling. It is the first time I go up in a skyscraper. I am curious to find out how it feels. A man dressed in Arab shows me the way. I share the elevator with other tourists, and when the climb begins, I feel that this is not a normal lift. Whether the pressure in the ears, or the vertigo count of the floors, something tells me that this can achieve a great speed. Reached the top, I have a wide view of the Emirate. A city planted between the desert and the sea.

I can not help having the feeling of an artificial city. Something built to satisfy the ego of those who created it. And despite all the luxury, all modernity, every perfection I feel that this city does not belong here. Almost looks like the recreation of human beings full of money. I go down the elevator again. Go straight to the street. I've seen what I wanted to see. The time is to be a little inside all this luxury before returning to the hustle and bustle of the trip. I do not give my time as lost. I think it is necessary to see it. See all the luxuries that money can buy. I think it is the only way you can better understand human nature.

And before leaving, a good time. At the airport an Arab was saying farewell to the freedom of Dubai, the best way he could. Warmly celebrating the last moments while we exchanged a few words. I find that the desire for freedom is increasingly common in these parts ...

Monday, December 5, 2011

Your hand ...

Your hand shows me something unique. I'm blind, but you gently guide me. I hear voices and know I'm in a room. I feel the wrinkles of your hand. It is marked by the experience of mankind. I know I can trust. I decide to let go and find out what you want to show. I sit and the word "chay" is already familiar to me. Something is being mounted in front of me. The sound of metal hitting wood proves to me that they are setting a table. You guide me there. Compel me to open my hand and find what you want: to offer me a tissue.

At first touch, I feel the velvet of a Persian sympathy. Like the comfort of a coffee taken in the company of a storyteller. There, in the middle of nowhere, just the cars broke our conversation. At this point, there wasn't a tourist and a guide. We were two human beings sharing a good conversation and a cafe that tucked the soul and cast the cold away.

We proceed to see what other pieces of fabric you offer me. This is rougher, almost aggressive. It doesn't want to let my hand touch it. My hand doesn't belong there. As I don't at the rally celebrating the anniversary of the police that controls moral. It was in the beautiful Iman Square in Isfahan. The same that a few days before received me so well. Now the black veil, such as prejudice, coveres women and boy-men are dressed in camouflage-uniformes. It was a party that I didn't share and I drove out of square.

Your hand guides me to the next piece of fabric. And now it's so different. Becames lighter. Lets the fresh air of a soothing conversation along the river. Free from prejudice or moral. A timeless moment and without geography. Except that of our dreams and emotions. So once again I feel the hospitality of the people who live here. Something that touched me with all the depth. I humbly thank you with the certainty of not being able to repay such a generous gift.

I do not need to be guided anymore. I'm eager to discover what else there is. As my hand passes this new piece, the fabric emits a special sound. As special as hearing the call to prayer in the Mosque Imam. I walk alone in its spacious cloisters and the sound becomes transcendental. The melody of those words don't enter my ears but my soul. It's poetry embodied in sound. I am raising to another state, to another consciousness. I walk with the melody in my head and I am just awakened to the sound of the flute that plays in the music hall of the Ali Qapu Palace and go into another moment of contemplation.

I think the most beautiful fabric cannot exists until my hand touches a last piece. I have no words to describe it. It is the purest I could feel. It moved me. It changed me. I shudder to think of it. It would be a crime at this stage to try to describe it ...

Finally I recover my eyesight. I see what my hand felt. A tissue filled with moments, embroidery perfectly in a country we call Iran.

Underneath the veil

It makes 32 years that Iran was covered by a veil. Since then it has become more distant. Today we know little of the reality of this ancient people. It is supplied in an image of radical religiosity, a dictatorial state and an extremist people. Closed and suspicious of Westerners. That was not the image that I was offered me by those who have visited it. Supreme curious as I am, I had to discover what lay beneath the veil of my ignorance.

Tehran
It's loud, dark and polluted. The roar of the bikes rule the streets. They go everywhere - including the sidewalks - and to cross a zebra crossing is an adventure not suitable for the fainted heart. But this city has a vibe that at least doesn't leave you indifferent. Political capital, you feel that burden here. Perhaps in an unconscious level. The best example are the veils. You find one for every personality. Despite the legal requirement, this is challenged by a veil that covers only the end of the hair. Or is confirmed by the traditional veil, in which you don't see a tip of hair. A duality very present everywhere.

I was fortunate to know a little more of its life. An enormous gift from Mahdi. I realized that the "picturesque" - transit - becomes a hell for those who live here. I could be a "revolutionary" and wrote on one of the many sites that is censored - the facebook. And finished the night with a snack (sugar syrup sweet) you see for sale all over the city. I discovered also that Europe is a real stronghold. Even if only in tourism, it has become an almost impossible task to get visa if you were born in the wrong coordinates of this planet.

In visual terms is not a city that fills the eyes. Between the degraded and the compound, you find everything. An "everything" that comes wrapped in a haze of pollution and standardizes the city. A grayish brown broken only by the somewhat-colored signs of the shops. But this city "hides" something very special. Catch the subway and go out the north. I'm sure you will be with your mouth open. The view of the Alborz mountains is something unique. Perhaps the best postcard that Tehran can offer. They are authentic giants of rock and snow to watch over this city.

But Tehran has more to offer. Khomeini Square is the center of chaotic motion and high street shops. Also important avenues go out of it (such as Ferdosi, with its exchange offices and shop windows full of U.S. dollars). In the middle of the square a placard of the Iman leaves me amazed at the resemblance between him and Sean Connery. You should confirm this with your eyes. Very special for me was to see the graffiti Statue of Liberty with a skull face. Iconic image of anti-Americanism. A strange feeling I experienced, almost bittersweet. The mini-aqueducts separating the roads of the rides are another small detail of this city. Former channels carrying drinking water, they are now places where rain storm runs. With more than 30 cm, quickly you get used to be careful with them. If it doesn't call your attention at first, I am sure that the first shock of falling into it you'll never forget them.

Tehran is a great introduction to this country. The perfect place to start to lift the veil that conceals it. Finally, nothing better than smoking shisha with friends. The semi-clandestine place made me fear what lied behind the door. Inside a dimly lit room, filled with sofas covered with Persian tapestry and few hours of good conversation.

Shiraz
"I suspect you want to go to Persepolis..." tells me a man of dark complexion and youthful air. I ask myself "Is he a fortune teller?". The day before I left a parakeet dictate what Hafez had planned for me. He is one of the most celebrated poets in Iran. Every home should have a copy of Quran and Hafez. And, like the Lonely Planet says, I suspect it will be easier to find a copy of the work of Hafez. Is custom to make a wish, open the book at random and see what Hafez tells us. At the door of his tomb, some people have a set of verses, and for a small fee, we learn our fate - "fal" in Persian. The grave itself is a must visit in Shiraz. Contrasting with the raw look of the city, the grave is a beautiful and peaceful garden.

"You must be the driver ..." I reply. "Morteza" presents itself, delivering a card and an infectious smile. It could not be happier with whom would guide me to Persepolis. Morteza is the embodiment of Persian sympathy. Gentle, polite and very jovial. Along the road - through the mountains and that by itself fill the eyes - tells me how he is a friend of another Portuguese, also João, but in this case, Pedro. He describes the adventures of João and how he was kidnapped by the period of "the best 22 days of your life" between Pakistan and Iran

He goes on and tells me a little of his history of 62 years. How he was petrochemical worker in time of the Shah. And how, after the revolution, was fired for not being able to work with the mullahs. I see how this revolution has impacted his life, and that not always "revolution" has the best outcome. He leads me back to his youth and how the villagers drove the first cars. When he explained that they thought the rearviewmirror was just to straighten my hair, I cannot stop laughing. He is a true storyteller, and with his words I travel a bit for the country that no longer exists. Upon arriving at my destination, he helps me to buy my ticket to Persepolis.

And this place, despite half-naked, is a reminder that this is a land of great empires. The tomb of Artaxerxes makes me understand the choice of location. A wide plain is the perfect setting for the palace of a great empire. I wander a bit here and through other times. I wonder what the foreign commissions must have felt upon entering the grand staircase at its entrance. From the top, it would echo trumpets and exhibited, by sound, the strength of this empire.

After this visit to the past, I go to another time machine, Naqsh-e Rostam. It is the giant tombs of Darius I, II, Xerxes I and Artaxerxes I. We only managed to get a sense of its size when we see another human being - always looks tiny - looking astonished at it. One of several inscriptions seems a warning to limit Europe had. In a bas-relief the Persian king holds by the hand the Roman emperor, while another kneels. Here was Rome who paid homage to another great empire.

I return to the company of friendly Morteza, while going back to Shiraz. He gives me more information about the beautiful places this country has to offer. I explain him that I've seen the beautiful Masolo Aramgah and Shah-e-Cheraga, or that I got lost in the mysterious and infinte streets of the bazaars. Where it is impossible not to let your imagination guide you as you go adrift. The tapestry is dominant, cut only by the spices, perfumes and teas. I tell him I just am missing a local specialty - Faloodeh Shirazi, an ice cream. He takes me to the place that a friend suggested me. An ice cream parlor behind the fort that dominates the city center. This strong, austere on the outside but inside Delisio, marks the end of Zand Avenue - the road that cuts across the city. I say goodbye with a sense graditude, being sure that I could not have found a better person for me to convey what this city has to offer.

Isfahan
My mind is twisted. The normal iranian tour starts in Isfahan (ie if you do not want to stay in Tehran). I had to do the oppositee and end here. And in good time I did. Isfahan is the pearl of Persia. A city with lots of green spaces and a river that divides it into two parts (detail that jumps out after spending so much time without seeing water). Crossing that river are numerous bridges. Some modern, some with a rich history. The oldest - and the ones I liked the most - are the Si-o-Seh and Khaju. Both built in yellow brick typical of this region. They are bridges between the north-south, between reality and imagination. Beautiful places to stay and admire the beauty of the river and its banks Zayandeh. It is a city that goes on here. Between a road with trees, flowers and shrubs you find some statues, recreation and exercise machines. Beautiful...

But the corridors of trees remains in the main avenue - Chahar Bagh Abbasi. In its sides, the normal hustle and bustle of Iranian cities. Traffic, lots of shops and lots of movement and color. In their midst, a contrasting tranquility. From here you reach the Imam Square. A large, geometric square. Contains the best that Persia has to offer: the bazaar in the north, Iman mosque south, east and west Lotfollah Mosque Sheikh and Ali Qapu Palace. Its beauty lies not only in its monuments, but in how subtle decor, just torn by lust of thesemonuments, leaves us in a state of tranquility. Behind this square is a city that lives. A city that runs and moves. Here it seems to have a calmer rhythm and light.

A good place to go is the Bazaar. Places always conducive to imagination and to the satisfaction of our desire to observe. Every detail seduces us and will make you smile later when you remember them. And even lost in the middle of the closed streets, you end up in the oldest part of town. Here the scene is quite different from the waterfront. The yellow desert is dominant. This area consists of numerous narrow streets where we want to get lost. However - and under penalty of losing too much time getting somewhere - it's worth doing it in a not very "intense" way. Here is another time for letting go a "wow." This is the Jameh Mosque. A real tribute to the evolution of Islamic architecture. On the outside is completely unnoticed. But once inside, it is the time to contemplate all its splendour.

To complete the city there is nothing better than going to the Armenian Quarter. The way there leads us to the extensive Tohid Avenue. And in these parts, the modern coexists with the classic, the wide streets with narrow lanes. Walk up and find the stores that we used to see elsewhere (Apple, Adolfo Dominguez, Nike, Puma, Geox, etc ...). Here it has a different flavor. It's a place where we let go until our feet can endure. In a store, a sign, a flower, the color of a building, or simply the movement of the city, you find enough interest to stay.

Of course all this is wrapped up by the friendly locals. And at every opportunity they speak with you, help you or will try to understand you - even if the most common words are just a dozen. A sympathy that I will keep forever. A great gift, perhaps the biggest pearl that you can take with you.

And underneath the veil ...
... is a world that awaits you. Each city is unique. I remember the movement of Tehran, from Shiraz the sympathy and the tranquility of Isfahan. I leave with a feeling that I will return. I just lifted a little of the veil. And in that small space I found, above all, a wealth in people who crossed my path ...

Le Moi Errant: The beginning

I conclude my first month of travel with a new rubric. I would like to thank Suzzanne and Ana Salvador for guiding me to this title. This space will be the one where I try to describe the inner journey inside my adventure. Travelling is to look around as it is to wandering inside. I hope you enjoy this rubric.

The start couldn't be more intense. There were many emotions, episodes and moments. It is, above all, a time to accommodate feelings and to confront with a new reality. Irt is very different from what I expected. No matter what, we create expectations, idealize situations. The reality is always different. And I know that though I try to put into words what I live, this can only be felt when traveling. Perhaps it was my first surprise, the difference between the ideal and reality.

At first we tried to achieve what we dream. See what we wanted to see. But in my case, I had to abandon that feeling. The reality is what it is, and more than to accomplish what I dreamed, I want to live the present. It was difficult to exchange the eagerness to see with the calm of being. I know I'm losing a lot. That many sites I won't see. But I also know I have a lifetime to do so. More than a list of to-do's, I want to find my trip.

It's an uncomfortable feeling that you have with a such desirable world close to you and you choose not to go everywhere. But travel is also going in search of discomfort. Perhaps this is what forces a traveler to change inside. Fight against his natural instinct of protection. And when we are in a comfortable place, we're going into the unknown once again. But this change, this discomfort compels your spirit to be totally open. You look more carefully at where you are. Inside, you feel an insecurity that you end up controlling. Where you go is more important than feelings.

I know that one month is not enough to say that I changed, but the reality is what happened. Looking at myself leaving for this trip is something already far away.. The change is diffuse and sublime. Something that I cannot grasp yet, but a change nonetheless...

Ben Türk

Today is my last day in Turkey. In fact, tomorrow I'll be still here, but it will be passed on the road. From Göreme to Ankara and from there to Tehran. I am thrilled. The whole experience was overwhelming. More than anything, I take with me the people I met along the way. I take Yuhsi companionship, the sympathy of Zé, the sympathy of Sophie, the idea of Harry, the open heart of Alejandro, the remarkably way of Volnei and Pinar, the tip of the Juliana, the conversation with Quang and the hospitality of Chris. A great start of this trip.

But Turkey will always have the image of three people: Eda, Naime and Özlem. Daughters of this beautiful land, they were the key to open the doors of this country. There are no words that can repay the kindness, help and hospitality you gave me. I feel you represent the best that this country has to offer: unique and interesting people, wrapped in a phenomenal historical context.

Are the people that make Turkey a great country. Whether we are strolling through the narrow streets of Istanbul or admiring the beautiful landscape of Cappadocia, they are what make this place unique.

What a spectacular fifteen days! Istanbul is a vibrant place. Doesn't leave you indifferent. A huge stage for life. In the turmoil of a market, to pass by the famous Galata bridge or enjoy the day-to-day one of the avenues, this city is always a multitude of lives. Different backgrounds, cultures and histories live in harmony. And you feel history not only in monuments or roads where you walk, but, above all, in people. In their traditions and habits. In their way of being and interacting. It is a real city.

Cappadocia harmony contrast with this agitation. Here you will find a calm among its many valleys. People are as friendly. You get the assurance that hospitality is of the country and not just of a region. I love how this whole area has many angles. And if Istanbul is a cultural mosaic, this is a landscape mosaic. Both give you strong emotions. I like to lose myself (but not much) here, or find that little cove where only the wildlife goes. And to hike. Maybe it's genetic. We are able to walk, and after a sedentary life, my whole body asked to walk. Follow the tracks as if I would arrive at a haven away.

And I just saw two locations. A small sample of what it has to offer. Discover this country was a gift. I underestimate it. I sought a place of transition and found an authentic and welcoming space. And after such a good welcome, I feel at home. And after being so mistaken with one, today I am also a little Turkish ...

Tesekkür ederim to all,

Hosçakal Turkey.

P. S. Tomorrow is time to travel. When you return to this space I'll be in Iran, and will have other adventures to report. If all goes well, I come back to this blog on Wednesday.

Moments

Thousands of coincidences - and small choices - makes a moment. In this case, walk to Urgup (8 kilometers away from Göreme) and a long climb, led me to this place. A small shelter on top of one of the valleys ripping Cappadocia. Protected from wind and graced by the sun, I finally met the time to admire it all.

Down below, amid the bare walls of the valley, vegetation flourishes. I have the feeling of a small Garden of Eden. Autumn gives it a brownish tinge, where green is emerging here and there. You hear no sound of civilization. Only birds and wind touching the leaves speak to me. I reflect a little. I'm lucky to be here, right now, amid such beautiful scenery.

I feel that it touches me and molds me. Somehow I'm different. More calm and centered in my thoughts. It isn't strange the Ottoman Christians have come here. All the immensity of this landscape compels us to reflection and humbles us. There is a duality in this landscape. Here, on top, we have a broad view of soft red mountains with white lines. These lines are the monumental valleys depicted in photographs. It is an exotic place for strolling around. The tracks take us to short white valleys, the lost sites and tunnels that seems portals to a fantasy world.

In fact this whole place is like a fantasy world. It is easy to imagine that, through the bushes, an elf will come out at any time. Or the sound of the wind, is Luke Skywalker arriving. But it is also the perfect place to think about nothing. In my case, I took the ipod shuffle and let it determine the soundtrack. It's classic music. Suddenly the slopes become musical. As if it came from its valleys. Maybe it's the wave of the hills which combine with the chords of this song. I do not know. I do not even bother to find out why. I just let it go and enjoy this beautiful moment ...

This is also part of the trip ...

A person wakes up smiling and happy with life. Imagining the amount of balloons that will see when you open the door and... the day is gray and cold. Those that make you want to be by the fireplace and do nothing. "No problem" I think as I descend the stairs to take my breakfast.

Time to say “Gerhama” to the people at the inn. This case it is only one, Chris, a Swiss traveler. But in his case making a slow trip - a bicycle tour around the world. For now he is work here, while preparing for the next destination. In addition to breakfast - toast with butter and jam accompanied by tea - he also gives me some tips on places I should see. Something that I accept with great pleasure and choose to follow.

Backpack and off I go. The beginning is simple, a road in the middle of a nearly deserted plain. In the way I feel a drop of water. "I'm imagining things ..." I say to calm my growing concern. But after the first is always another, and when my jacket gets wet I can no longer ignore reality. I look forward and see the overcast sky and no shelter. A simple rain doesn't bother me. Rain, cold and wind is another story.

I decide, very reluctantly, to return to the small tourist village which is Göreme. Today began the low season in these parts and there is nothing to do. I decide to refresh my mind with the best latte of the site (at least they advertise it like that). The cafe is cozy and the latte is really good. In a better mood, I decide to make some use of my day. Start by buying my ticket to Ankara and stop at the supermarket to buy some things I needed. Deep breath and I become conscious of what I have ahead.

I go into the pension determined. One day I had to do so, and despite the cold, today is the day: I have a to wash my clothes. I look around and find a bucket and bowl. This part is taken care of. Now is time to find a place to hang out the clothes. Walk out onto the balcony and find the line. Yet it is enough loose to bond the clothes into the wall. A problem that I would have to solve. I'm going to my backpack and take the line from my "MacGyver" bag. Node here, stretch theres and in no time I solved the problem. Then it's time for the arduous task. I do it with a smile.

I spend the rest of the day inside. This seems a haven fot travelers stranded in the desert. It has a charm hard to explain. A Turkish employee who barely speaks English and almost doesn't notice you. A system of self-service beverage in which we point what we consume in a paper available next to the fridge. And a mess that makes us feel like in our home. I do not know what it is, but I like it.

Despite not having done anything, I get to the end of the day happy. After all this is also part of the trip. And despite not having the glamor of other activities, I know that is a step in the path that began eleven days ago.

PS Now I pray that the clothes will not freeze in this cold hell (it is anticipated freezing temperatures)

A very special company ...

"And how will you handle traveling alone?" Recurring question when I spoke of the trip. I responded that, with my dual personality, I would never be alone. Deep down I knew it could be tricky, but I would end up finding friends along the way.

But yesterday was special. I decided to travel through the valleys of this magnificent region. Since I just arrived, and no friendships made, I was prepared to do it by myself. Nothing that scares me because I like to walk alone. Not five hundred meters ahead and... I had company! At first I was a little scared. Roxelana and Halide were beautiful, but finding them in the middle of nowhere, and so happy to see me, made me alert. I decided to give it time and see where this relationship was going.

The destinations were the Rose and Red Valley. Two well-known tracks and perfect for me. Inexperienced in these wanderings, I must go where there were others. If something happened to me, I would never be far from help. Neither Roxelana or Halide could help me in this case. With this decision, I leave the main road. I venture down the tracks that cut the curtains of rocks in front of me. And in more or less open spaces, we were going together. Halide, more independent-minded fighter, went ahead of me. Roxelana, with more compassion, gave me protection behind me. And suddenly the valley opens in front of me. And what a sight! I could not contain a "wow". It is those views that leave you breathless. I couldn't do more than admire everything around me. I was humbled by what I saw.

After a moment of wonder, I enter these valleys. Pass by a strategically placed cafe on the way. "Want a drink?" the owner asked. "No thanks" I reply with a smile. My desire was to walk through the rocky slopes carved by the wind. Where vegetation conquers every fertile piece. You have a mix feeling of dryness and lust. These tracks are really a perfect stage for hiking. In this case, the autumnal aspect allows you to be more focused on yourself. After a life of stress and complications. Of busy days and strong emotions. And after a fantastic start of travel, I could finally make the break I needed. It was the biggest gift of these covered-in-white-veils monsters: a time away from everything and a place to yourself.

And when fatigue kicked in, it was time to return. The sun was hidden behind the mountains and the cold is relentless here. I say goodbye one last time to Roxelana and Halide. Without doubt, today they were the best friends of this man...

Letter

Dear Reader,

I just arrived in Göreme. The trip was long and a bit tiring. But it was worth it... I woke up to see the beautiful sunrise in Cappadocia. It is a vast landscape. The tone of the white ground combines with the rays of morning sun. Maybe that's why the balloon ride begins at this time of day. And there are so many! A real live postcard.

Yesterday, I ended up not doing much. Check in at the inn and left to see the Göreme Open Air Museum. I know I'll use this word a lot but is really pretty. A monastic complex forged in the rocks of this region. It is not very wide, but the whole site allows you to imagine how life was here. And even as tourists fill the galleries - making the experience a test of patience - you can you have a great view of the valley that extends from Göreme. The Dark Chapel is well worth the additional 8 liras. The frescoes look new and you can imagine the beauty that the other galleries would be. Although banned yet I managed to take some pictures. More for my ignorance (and luck) than daring. Only in the fourth picture, the security (which had just come in) told me "no photos". I made my ignorant tourist face #31 and moved on.

The rest of the day was calmer. Although I went in search of the sunset, it proved to be an impossible task. I left the hostel too late and the time escaped me. No problem, because I ended up finding the first person I met on the trip: Yuhsi, from Taiwan. Coincidence of fate, also quit her job and is making a long trip to Europe and surrounding areas. We ended the day with an excellent conversation, those that knows no time.

I eventually remember all the roommates and good friends I met. Living proof that sympathy knows no coordinates. We shared a brief good times, but it was enough to make friends, arrange contacts and stories. One of them seemed taken from a romantic movie. He Brazilian, she Turkish. They met and talked over the Internet for a decade. And fall in love the first time they are together. It is pure magic and I hope everything goes perfect. The Metropolis Hostel had a special vibe. Even the receptionist, with a cheguevarish aspect and schizophrenic mood (jumping from a Soviet to a Latin sympathy while the devil rubs his eyes), seems a character to appear carved of a weird story.

It's time to say goodbye. Time to wolk in the beautiful (there's the word again) trails that this region has to offer ....

With you on my mind, I say goodbye,

A kiss and a hug,

Stran, the kid traveler

PS I do not know if you noticed, but I put a link on the blog for my photo album

One unlikely day...

What an insane day I spent in Istanbul. I schedule a quiet day with little to do. Begin in University and making my way back to the Grand Bazaar. But it seemed that bad luck would be the motto of the day. In the first photo I discover that I have no battery. After I go to the market to find it closed. Back to the hostel and take the opportunity to address the next destination: Cappadoccia.

Now with the battery charged, accepted the invitation of the autumn sun and went back into the streets. I had no particular focus. The image of a Nargile in Tophane leads me to the tram, but I decide to get out. Blame it on the sea that attracts me so much. I've never been in a city divided by a dark blue sea and its fascinating to me. I remember that I hadn't visited the Spice Bazaar. It was also closed. But the narrow streets on the sides were swarming of trade and I lose myself there. I follow the crowd going by. There is a little bit of everything: jewelry, shoes, scarves, sweets or spices. Vendors compete to see who has the best voice and captures the most attention. I jump from street to street, choosing the insecurity and following the path that calls for me.

Now I find myself in a lonely and silent street. It doesn't appear that I am in Istanbul. Around here the only resident is one cat that ignores me completely. This city is a city of cats. Each has his own personality: the timid, the lazy, the idle, the shameless, etc... They give a unique tone to a city that seems to take care of them.

I give up and decide to seek help. I don't want to walk for hours to get to a known point. Guidance received and I find myself in the Sultanahmet district. Here are no longer the locals dominate but the tourists. The flurry of cameras, poses and guides are actors in this historical stage.

I sit down a bit. What to do now? I open my guide and I realize that I still wanted to go to Istanbul Modern, a space for contemporary art. With a tokken in my hand (here the tickets are plastic coins) I go to Tophane.

I arrive and find that it is time for Istanbul Biennial - a meeting point in Istanbul between artists from different cultures created by the İstanbul Foundation for Culture and Arts. This year the works combine art with politics. The art form as a political expression is something that I really admire. I loved the clean and effective space. Some works surprised me a lot with its originality and innovative character. One that struck me in particular was about a demolition of a house in Palestine. A shoe, a drawer or a spoon recalled that, more than anything, this is a human conflict. No doubt a very successful exhibition.

Time to relax. I leave this space to enter one of the numerous cafes and remember this insane day. Only in this city a person goes through medieval bustle of high street shopping, enter into the deserted streets like a village, back to the bustle of a tourist attractions, goes to a modern and artistic exibition and ends relaxing in ancient habit of smoking a water pipe . It seems too good to be true. Please, someone pinch me...

What (Is)tanbul

In "Western" Europe, Turkey seems a closed, conservative and far country. Prejudice often extended to Istanbul. At best, we have an idea of a distant and exotic city. Nothing could be farther from reality. I noticed this as soon as I descend of the clouds and I first saw "The City". It was a familiar tone that welcomed me. For a moment it seemed that I came back home.

I was not prepared for it. As a result of my own prejudices, I had imagined a morphing city, a gate to more exotic places. And I was really mistaken. The city's name was hand-picked. This is a city that stands on its own. You cannot really describe it. Trying to do it is like catching the wind with your hands. There isn't something that you catch but something that you feel.

So what is Istanbul? It is true that we find people with head scarves. That the horizon is marked by its many mosques, or that the muezzins remind us it is time to pray. But if you only see this, you see a city that doesn't exists.

It is impossible for me to answer my question. It has been difficult to write this text. Perhaps for being the first, or perhaps I feel the responsibility to write about a town that learned to love and respect. Just when I got to Aya Sofia Meydani, a square that mediates the two known mosques, I felt it. Never enjoyed a mosque. Accustomed to very ornate temples, those mosques I went always seemed to me too cold and naked. That changed here. Being in the midst of these mosques is to be in the middle of a match between two monuments. It's a healthy rivalry that muezinns seem to accompany at the time of the call.

In this area we can find three of the most popular attractions of this city at a distance of five minutes. Beyond the Blue Mosque and Ayasofia, there is also the Topkapi Palace. A palace which is worth more for it spaces, architecture and history, than for the beauty of its interior rooms.

As expected, all these sites are full of tourists, and with them appear vendors or "professionals" tour guides. It is a chaotic harmony that lives here. But a person never feels uncomfortable with the constant offerings. It is a fact that at the first opportunity they approach you, but let you go when you don't show interest. As in the well known market, the Grand Bazaar. It is certainly impressive. A world in itself, with its many streets and alleys. It seems another universe, and after 10 minutes we have the impression that we could live without ever leaving inside.

This whole area was a great start to my adventure in Istanbul, but if it was just this, the city wouldn't have much to give. Lucky as I am, I had the privilege of going a little beyond the usual tourist circuit. I owe this to three friends of this wonderful city. And perhaps more than anything that I've seen and experienced, they are the best that this city has to offer: a huge sympathy and an extraordinary pleasure in showing us the best that exists in Istanbul.

The first gave me the experience of eating the best profiteroles in the world. They are in Istikal Caddesi, an avenue similar to our Champs Elysees. In a small pastry (INCI Pastanesi) there is the perfect blend of ingredients that make this sweet. The only danger is that a person can not stop eating and ruin the budget for the trip (although not expensive - 5 lira each). And who knows me knows that I am no fun of sweets, but this site has made me one.

In addition to this experience, I followed her advice to visit two areas of the city: Ortaköi and Vali Konagi Caddesi. The first is a neighborhood full of cafes and commerce. It is close to Bogazici Köprüsü, one of the bridges linking Europe to Asia. From here we can make a small one hour cruise on the Bosphorus and admire the beautiful houses and landscapes that are located on its banks.

The area of Vali Konagi Caddesi is a commercial area and without many (or no) tourists. A great place to see this city moving. I spent a great Saturday afternoon and finished in a cafe: The Coffee House. Although not traditional, serves food that satisfies all your senses. It is a quiet place, in Atiya Sokagi No. 10, a transverse to Tesvikie Caddesi (that parts from Vali Konagi), consisting of chic restaurants and cafes located in the apartments of this street. Here we find a lot of glamor and style, and realize that the image sold in "Western" Europe is so unrealistic.

The second friend gave me a great night spent in Tophane,smoking Nargile and talking. And above all, getting know a little more reality in this country and culture. Although the trip still is at the beginning, this is one of the moments that I will never forget. Here I witnessed live the great sympathy of this people. Spending a night in this area is itself an experience. Passing it in the company of the people I met, is something extraordinary and that I will keep forever in my heart.

Finally, the third person gave me the opportunity to do a night walk between Tophane - which is on the north - and Sultanahmet - the city's historic district on the south. Between words, I learned how this city is more liberal than many European counterparts, or as in the Galata Bridge, dozens of fishermen spend their time fishing for pleasure. In my eyes they would be professional, because of the commitment that they pursue this activity. However the reality is that it is for passion that they do it. And at this time of the night there is almost a parallel world. People are around a bonfire while others sell food. A self-sustaining world and a very passionate one.

And perhaps that is what this city is: passionate. As I said earlier, I don't know the answer. Maybe a little of everything. Millions of lives that cross these streets, and little by little, turn this city into something unique. Here, I do not see a bridge between East and West. I don't even see the exotic. Here, I see a city that is unique and worth as a whole. I see unparallel sympathy and a place to which I could call home. This is "The City", and I think that after this experience I will bring Istanbul with me. In an inexplicable way it also became my city. Perhaps this is Istanbul ...