Madrid!

 Madrid!

We were so excited upon our arrival to Madrid. It had been a long and very tiring flight, but we were finally there! This time, we were going to stay at my grandparents' old apartment, much closer to the city center and, therefore, a much more lively neighborhood. We were going to love living a few months in Madrid.   

We did not need to wait long before we could go celebrate Alia's birthday at 'El Boqueron', our favorite seafood bar in Madrid. Growing up in Madrid, my father, who has a very well-deserved reputation of knowing all the good places in town, liked to take the family to 'El Boqueron' for the best, most-affordable seafood in Madrid. I do not know Madrid nearly as well as my father, but was sure to show off to Alia the few secret jewels I knew in Madrid. 'El Boqueron' is also in Lavapies, Alia's favorite neighborhood in Madrid. Lavapies is not a touristy area at all, rather the opposite, it is a working class neighborhood with a lot of immigration. That makes of Lavapies a very busy, lively and culturally rich neighborhood, which is what Alia loved so much about it. Something I always admired about Alia is how open-minded she was: she was always excited to try new foods, new styles, she was always eager to learn of new cultures, new traditions, she was always open to hear new opinions and points of view. In summary, she was always eager to grow as a human being.

The most important and exciting part of our preparations for our Africa journey was to find the car we would use. Alia mostly took care of that. Fortunately, we were able to resolve this part fairly quickly. In Spain there are quite a lot of 'unwanted' old Land Rovers. Land Rover Santanas were made in Linares (Andalucia), in Southern Spain in the 60's and 70's. Back then the roads in Spain were bad, gas was cheap and those big, strong cars did a great job in the farms. Since then, however, cities have grown, but keep many narrow streets, and parking is very limited and particularly complicated for this kind of monster vehicles. Gas has soared and most people has moved from the countryside to the big cities. It is common the case that grandpa used to own this beautiful Land Rover, but now grandpa die and the grandchildren do not have any purpose for the car anymore: they are expensive to maintain and difficult to drive. So, they are put for sale at very cheap prices. 

Our Robert was a handsome 1974 Land Rover Santana Series III, in pretty good condition and a very reasonable price. We went to check it out to some little village in the province of Guadalajara, next to Madrid. Santi, a smart countryman, had own it for many years, but had now put it for sale, since he had got another 4x4 and did not had any purpose for it anymore. Since I know nothing about mechanics, I asked Alia what she thought, after trying it out. It was funny, because during our test drive the rear flange broke. Santi was devastated, something that is only supposed to randomly happen once every few years, had just happened, just when he was showing off the vehicle to some prospective buyers. I think that played in our favor. On the other hand, Santi was able to conceal the breaks were rather inexistent (like it is the case with most of these old Land Rovers) and the right-side window would not roll up. Other than that, the car seemed in pretty good condition: the engine sounded pretty well, the gearbox seemed to be good and Alia could not find any significant leaks, (so common in these old Land Rovers). We had planned to go for a tour around Southern Spain to check various other Land Rovers, but I asked Alia if she thought it was worth the time and effort: I asked Alia if she thought it was likely we would find any other car in any significant better condition than Santi's. Alia was rather skeptical, so we decided  to snatched Robert! Santi was also playing smart; he kept talking how he had some other very interested prospective buyers coming to see the car, so we better moved quickly. We will never know if it was true or he was just playing smart, but we thought there were no good reasons to take chances.  

Our Robert also came with some special niceties: the engine was not the standard Land Rover engine (which apparently are not that reliable), but an old 4-cylinders Perkins. When we reached South Africa, we learned it was actually a tractor engine. It therefore made it a very slow car, that would not go over 80km/h, but that motherf***er was strong as a rock. It was so much so that in Iona National Park, in Southern Angola, after spending two days climbing up and down dry river bed banks, we were so amazed with it, that we started calling it: 'Robert, The Beast'. The 4-cylinders also allowed for some very reasonable gas consumption for a monster vehicle like that. Finally, Robert came with a nice, special Santana feature: the overdrive, which endues the gearbox with a double set of gears.

  

All in all, it made of our Land Rover Santana the almost-perfect vehicle for an African adventure like ours. Yes, it was a slow car but the whole point was to enjoy the scenery, so, if there was something we did not want to do was to speed on the very bad African roads. On the other hand, Robert was strong and powerful, ready to take on the most terrible African roads, like the 14km stretch of dirt road that makes for the only ground border crossing between the Democratic Republic of Congo (Belgian Congo) and the Republic of Congo (French Congo). It is so much so that the path has remained abandoned for the last century, that the old 'Welcom to Belgian Congo' and 'Welcome to French Congo' signs are still standing there.  . It then does not come to any surprise that the dirt road has deteriorated to the most horrible state []. 

Moreover, Land Rovers are a lot of fun! British engineering has always been known not to be the best, so, the car is constantly falling apart, and keeps you entertained, playing with something at all times, to keep it together. There is always something to check, something to fix, so there is never a chance to be bored. After all, if you are traveling across Africa, you are supposed to go through quite some struggles, that is the whole point of an adventure; otherwise it is not real Africa.

Inside our new Land Rover Santana we found Lionel. Lionel was a tiny stuffed lion. We then started fantasizing he was the actual owner of the car and we had agreed he would let us use it, if we carry out his mission of driving him all the way back to his home in the heart of Africa.      

If finding a vehicle for our African adventure turned out to be swift and smooth, unfortunately, we soon realized getting our African travel visas was going to become quite more of a headache than what we had hoped. That was mostly my task. As stressful and painful as it was, I will always be proud of how, little by little, we were slowly able to very successfully resolve the whole African-visas nightmare puzzle, including the very complicated DRC and Nigerian visas and, most of all, the impossible Angolan visa. We also figured out there were some visas, like Mauritania, Ghana, Gabon or the Republic of Congo,  we would better pick up along our way throughout Africa.

 

Since we were going to need quite some time in Madrid to get our African travel visas, we thought to take the opportunity to get some other business resolved. I was able to get Alia Spanish national universal health insurance, so that she could get all the vaccinations she needed for our Africa journey.

One morning we went to the hospital so that I could take a genetic test on my Aniridia. I have always been severely visually impaired, because I was borned with congenital Aniridia. There is an approximate 50% chance that Aniridia is transmitted from parent to child. However, there are some in-vitro fertilization techniques that would allow avoid this possibility. Alia was very excited that morning. I remember, while we were waiting at the bus stop, she looked at me and said: "It is so exciting to think, today we are taking our first step towards having children!" Our relationship was certainly not falling apart.

I need to admit, however, I could not avoid a bit of disappointment taking this genetic test, as I have never perceived  my Aniridia as a real issue. Yes, it caused me to have some really bad eye-sight; but I have always thought it has also made me stronger in many other ways: for example, I have the most amazing memory and capacity to concentrate. As a matter of fact, for many years, I have explained, if I would ever be offered the deal to be born again: only one thing certain, there would not be any aniridia and my eye-sight would therefore be perfect; but everything else would change, for the better or for the worse. I would not take that deal. This is not part of any sort of insincere politically correct discourse. The bottomline is I have always been happy with who I am. Again, I have some really bad eye-sight, but I tend to believe, that also help shaped the kind of person I am. In other words, for example, if I had had normal eye-sight, probably I would not have the same kind of excellent memory or capacity to concentrate. From a scientific standpoint, a fundamental evolutionary advantage of social animals is the specialization of the individual members of the society. Indeed, a society can adapt better to the environment when members with different qualities serve the collectivity by taking on tasks for which they are particularly suited. As a simplified example, a couple will do better if one of the two has, let's say, excellent eyes and is therefore particularly good at visual tasks, while the other,, who has excellent hearing, takes on auditory tasks; than if both share average visual and hearing skills, and, therefore, perform alike in both kind of tasks.

 

In any case, for me, the critical point is that, with my anirridia and poor eye-sight, I have been able to lead so far a very rich and happy life. So, obviously, I would not want to take chances losing that, by making changes.

I need to admit, however, more recently, considering how my visual disability has been used by some people to attack me and how my life has so been taken to a crawl, I have unavoidably developed some doubts on my reasoning above.

However, my disappointment that morning, was more related to Alia's gradual change of mind on the subject. In fact, I do remember, on the very night I proposed Alia, as we were walking back home, I told her about my congenital Aniridia and how it could be transmitted to my children. However, I also clarified there were in-vitro fertilization techniques that could avoid that. Alia interrupted me, explaining she did not want to hear anything about that. Our children would come out the way they are supposed to. She was about to marry a man with Aniridia, so, obviously, she could not agree there was something definitely wrong in a person with Aniridia. Besides, she explained there was also some congenital condition running down the female members of her family. This condition caused some very bad back problems that had skipped her, as it skips every other generation; but she was convinced she would transmit it to her children. Unfortunately, throughout the years we had been married, some relatives of her had kept torminting her, asking how did she ever marry some blind guy like myself; pointing out they would have never married some blind guy like myself. So, after some years, Alia started thinking, perhaps we should explore the possibility of in-vitro fertilization. Now, we were that morning on our way to get genetically tested.   

     

Those months I was also finally able to get Alia her Spanish residency card. That was quite a hit; Alia was so excited about it. Alia has always wanted to get legal European residency. For example, we had also learned it was not that difficult for the spouse of a Swiss citizen to get Swiss citizenship, so she kept hoping, one day, sometime soon, she could even become a Swiss citizen. The whole story how she was finally able to get her Spanish residency card was quite something, as the card was only finally ready, finally available for pick-up, on our very last day before leaving Madrid to start our Africa journey. We arrived at the police station early in the afternoon, shortly before closing time. However, we were told they would not be able to hand us the card, if we had not brought with us some document. We, therefore, had to run back to the house, get the document and then Alia drove, not quite under the most legal circumstances, back to the police station. Despite arriving after the closing time, they were kind enough to give her her new Spanish residency card. Alia was so happy!

 

During those few months in Madrid, besides getting business done, we were also able to find time to have fun. We so organized a few trips to places near Madrid. On the very same day we went to Guadalajara to check out Robert, we also took the chance to visit Alcala de Henares; the hometown of Miguel de Cervantes, the most significant Spanish writer of all times. The previous Fall, Alia had made for Halloween 2014, some awesome costumes of Cervantes' most reknown heros: Don Quijote and Sancho Panza. Alia had even built Don Quijote's horse and Sancho Panza's donkey. The costumes were so awesome that we won the second prize in some Halloween costume contest; but we totally deserved the first prize! Now, on our visit to Alcala de Henares, we were sure to go meet our friends Don Quijote and Sancho Panza. 

Once we had got our Land Rover, we could afford some more ambitious trips. Avila, with its impressive Unesco World Heritage city wall and its lovely medieval charm, is one of Spain's most beautiful towns. I had thought many times to take Alia over there, but the ride is a bit too long and there is enough to see that it makes for a little bit of a tight one-day trip. So, now that we had the Land Rover, it was the perfect opportunity to take a couple of days to fully enjoy the town. That would also give us the chance to try the 'living quarters' setup Alia has so carefully worked on and built on the Land Rover's back.  

I also had long thought of taking Alia to visit the place where I used to spend the holidays when I was little. During my childhood, my parents rented some apartment in a little village in 'La Sierra de Madrid', and we used to go there every weekend and all holidays. I will always remember walking back home from the milk shop, on those cold, dark winter nights, so very worried not to spill any of that stinky, freshly-milked cow milk my mother thought was so good for us, but we actually hated so much. It was quite an enriching contrast to experience the true rural life in a little village, compared to our regular life in the big city. We thought we could take the whole weekend to have enough time to first go to Manzanares del Real to visit the medieval castle there, and later drive all around beautiful Guadarrama National Park; visiting Bustarviejo, hiking and cooling off in the natural pools near Rascafria, camping in the celestial tranquility of Canencia Pass, etc. It brought me wonderful memories of those days where, as a young kid, I started running away from my parents watch to go for long bicycle rides along those roads. Everywhere we went, however, the star was always Robert, our beautiful Land Rover Santana Series III. People kept approaching us asking if we would mind if they take some pictures of it. Many told us Robert brought them memories of their childhood, when they also had a Land Rover in the family. That was actually also my own experience: my neighbor in Bustarviejo also had a Land Rover and we were all so jealous of it.

In any case, we never needed to go far away or do anything really special to be happy. Just to go together for a walk around the always-busy and -lively streets of Madrid was for Alia the most enjoyable time. Alia loved to go walk around Sol, Lavapies, El Retiro, Casa de Campo, Barrio de Salamanca or simply our own neighborhood of Prosperidad. If it had been up to Alia, we had gone out everyday a couple of hours to breath the air of the city and stimulate our eyes and ears with its life. Looking back I regret we did not do it; but I was stressed trying to get all our business done to get us ready to leave. Alia was actually far more stressed than I, worrying it was taking us so much time to be ready to start our African adventure. I kept telling Alia, wherever we were and whatever we would be doing, we should always try to enjoy our time; and we did. I remember one night, walking back home after spending the afternoon strolling the streets around Sol, Alia told me she had been thinking we were doing really well: we were really a happy couple, we had all what we could wish for and we were getting very well together; we had not even had an argument for months. Alia explained she had recently been talking with her aunt Kristy, out in Oregon. Kristy, I guess from watching Alia's Facebook posts, had got the impression we were doing very well; we looked very happy together. Alia replied she thought so too: life was good on us. Alia then stopped her explanation to look at me, waiting for my take on that, wondering if I would share those same feelings. Absolutely Alia! From the very beginning, Alia has always been worried that, as much as she loved me, those times she got mad at me and hurt me, had also hurt my love for her. They had not; I always understood where Alia was coming from and what she was also going through. I was always aware and always appreciated how hard she was trying and how she was doing her best for us to succeed in our marriage. So, even when she did hurt me those many times she had got mad at me for the most stupid reasons; I am very stubborn, so, the next day we would start fresh again.

In early May, Vicky, one of Alia's friends, came to visit Madrid. Vicky had spent the year doing some university studies in Granada and was hoping to travel and see a bit of Spain before returning to Montana. I thought I would give her some suggestions; but I am pretty sure I put too much on her plate and my advice was not very helpful. Vicky was going to meet some other American friends in Madrid, who were coming for a few days and were hoping they all would tour the city together. Alia was really happy to offer to show them around. She was actually very excited showing off how well she had got to know Madrid. So, she actually told me she preferred I stay at home and keep going with my work. Alia had a blast with her friends, if it was not because those days it was really hot in Madrid, with temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

     

Finally the day of our departure arrived; our last day in Madrid. We had thought to leave the previous Friday; but we had to postpone it when we  were not able to get our Nigerian visas , because at the Nigerian embassy they requested we bribe them with 50 euros more, on top of the over $150 we had already paid for the application fee. As it could not be any other way, our last day in Madrid was a very stressful day. We got up early, to go pick up Rolf, (our old Volkswagen Golf, we had used to travel all over Europe in 2011 and 2012) from the mechanic. I had made one last, desperate attempt to save our beloved Rolf from the scrap yard. Afterwards, we had to go to the Police Station to pick up Alia's new Spanish residency card. Since we were missing the one crucial document, Alia had to drive back there. Meanwhile, I went to Trafico (Department of Motor Vehicles) for some other paperwork. Back in the house, we still needed a couple of hours for some final packing, some final backup's, etc. Then we had to run to the hardware store for some last purchases. From there to my sister's to drop off a couple of boxes. It was already past 6pm, so, my sister asked, guessing we would just leave our departure for the next day. Alia and I looked at each other, not sure what to say. I do not know what was in Alia's mind, but I know what was in mine. I thought, indeed, it would be better to wait until the next day; but I was guessing Alia would not want yet another postponement. To my sister's surprise, we finally replied we would still try to leave that evening... Back to the house, some last calls, some last emails, some notes for the following days, saving and closing windows, and we were finally ready. As Alia was looking at me, waiting for me, I thought I would say some sentence for history, so, as I finally close down my laptop, I looked up towards Alia and said: "let's go to Africa?" Alia was so excited!, she could not believe the moment she had been dreaming with for the last couple of years, had finally arrived.     

We grabbed all our bags and went outside to the car. It was rather disappointing to realize it was already past 9pm and the night had already fallen over Madrid. However, we thought we would still want to immortalize the moment taking some special pictures to keep for the rest of our lives. Then, Alia finally started up the car and we took off. I believe Alia was very excited, but I could not help thinking we were not acting very rationally. As much as I kept thinking about it, it did not make a lot of sense to me to leave at 10pm. We could as well have stayed one last night at home, enjoy some last, nice dinner, release some stress, get some good night sleep and leave fresh in the morning the next day. Instead, we were going to miss dinner, spend the night camping in the car in some abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere and wake up early without much to have for breakfast and no possibility for a clean-up. We had not been on the road for more than half hour and we  were already finding our first problems: the breaks were binding and were slowing down the car to a crawl. We had not even yet left Madrid and Alia had already had to get out and get her hands dirty. As I watched Alia work on the breaks, I kept thinking to suggest, perhaps it would be better to turn around, go back home and consider more carefully what is wrong; in case we need to get some part that might be harder to find once we leave. However, I had long known Alia did not like changes of plans; once she had set her mind on something, she struggled adapting to new developments requiring any change to the plan. That is how many arguments had started in the past. So, finally I decided not to say anything. I remember, back in the car, I kept watching the GPS screen, how we were slowly penetrating the immense darkness of the countryside, slowly leaving behind all the lights representing the city, and I could not help feeling I would regret leaving Madrid like that. We continued, however, driving into the night, until we found some abandoned gas station near Alcazar de San Juan, in the heart of La Mancha.

Over the following days, we kept making our way towards Tarifa, Spain's and mainland Europe's south-most point, where we would take a ferry to cross the 14km. stretch of sea of the Gibraltar Strait, over to Tangier, in Northern Morocco. Spain has actually a lot to offer; much more and much better than just Barcelona or Madrid, so, on our way to Tarifa, I had planned a few stops. In 2011, we had already been in Southern Spain backpacking: taking trains, buses and even hitch-hiking. I thought, now that we had a car, it was a good opportunity to make up on some very interesting and beautiful places we missed back then, because they were too hard for us to reach.

On our first morning, we went to visit Don Quijote and Sancho Panza's famous La Mancha wind mills in Quintanar de la Orden. Later that morning, we drove to Las Tablas de Daimiel National Park, where I was hoping Alia could enjoy some bird watching. Las Tablas de Daimiel is considered one of the best places in Europe for bird watching; however, the heat of the middle of a really hot summer day did not quite help to the experience. Later that afternoon we continued Southwest towards beautiful Cazorla National Park. As we were getting close to the park, we stopped at a fountain, to refill our water. We were shock to find that day alone, each of us had drunk around 2-3 gallons of liquid. Finally driving through the forest and alongside the lakes, we really enjoyed the fresh air and the sweet breeze running between the trees. I had found for that night somebody who was willing to host us in Jaen. Like it had happened the night before, we were again going to screw up on our host. This time, however, the idea of camping in Cazorla National Park felt like a very good alternative as well: we were going to miss out on friendship; but we were certainly going to enjoy the feeling of nature. The next morning we went for a hike. The truth is, I had got traumatized four years earlier, when we spent four hours trying, without success, to hitch a ride to  'La Torre del Vinagre' trailhead. Eventually, it got too late, we had to give up on that hike and had to leave the park to go spend the night in the town. It was very disturbing and disappointing for me, who had been helped and had got rides so many times, from so many people, in so many different countries, that now I was not being able to find any help from my own countrymen. Yeah, Spaniards like to think they are friendly and warm-hearted people, with a strong sense of hospitality... I do think it used to be like that; but, apparently, not anymore. I was so upset, I left some note bitching about what we had become.

It confirms a view that has slowly developed in my mind throughout years traveling all over the world: there is very loose correlation between genetics, geography and character. Wherever I went everybody always loved to receive compliments on the local folks' character. It is so sad to see how easily the Crow is willing to fall for the Fox's seduction. My experience is that people is mostly good everywhere. We all love to help, as long as we perceive it makes sense. Perhaps in a developed region, a sophisticated environment or a formal setting it may become necessary to scratch off the surface a bit deeper before the true soul emerges; but our nature is beautiful everywhere. Still, I firmly believe that those who have less are generally more eager to help; they have little to fear losing. On the other hand, if I tell these days all what they have hurt me in Montana, it is easy for anybody to quickly conclude that Montanans are mean and hateful. Yet, nothing could be further from the truth. In Montana I met many, many beautiful souls, and I live some of the most wonderful and moving experiences.. I can hardly think of any other place where people went so far out of their way to help me. Just as an example, I met Alia because Trask, her former boyfriend, decided to turn around to pick me up, after he had already passed by where I was standing trying to hitch a ride. He drove me for over 100 miles from Lakeside, MT to Missoula. Throughout the ride we chatted like we had known each other for our entire lives. Once we arrived to Missoula he still offered to either take me 20 miles further to Florence, or stay with them in Missoula. True, needless to say, I also came across some evil individuals in Montana; but most of them were acting on behalf of the system. Some others were just mentally sick. Unfortunately, people of that kind can be found anywhere. Somehow I cannot help thinking that modern life has turned us all coldhearted and strictly pragmatic. I mostly blame the Media for it. They keep tormenting us with all those horror stories about the evil in this world; they constantly tell us not to trust anybody, not to accept any help from strangers, to only do business with big, well-established companies. It is all always for our safety. If I think of my childhood, Spain was an undeveloped place where everybody helped each other. Now everything has become dehumanized. These kind of laments are certainly common in societies that have undergone dramatic changes in a short period of time. Equally as often are these moans dismissed as simply nostalgic. "Nostalgia" is what the crook says to his victim, when she complains about the treasures that have been taken from her. "Fool" is what the Fox thought amused, as she grabbed the slice of cheese dropped by the singing Crow. Nostalgia was first diagnosed on soldiers, who were feeling homesick while fighting abroad. Indeed, nostalgia is when, annoyingly, you stop following my leadership, because you just so happened to feel depressed for some stupid reason.

       

Four years later, having finally completed our 'Torre del Vinagre' hike, we continued West towards Peal; my grandfather's hometown. I thought it would be fun to visit, more than one hundred years later, the place where my grandfather was born. We also needed to get some immunization medicines we were going to need to take during our first weeks in Africa. It turned out, however, they were not at all readily available at any pharmacy. I so had the great idea of calling my mother to ask for her help. I needed her to find for us some pharmacy along our way, where we could get those prescriptions. My mother came to be of really good help, because there were only a few places where these medicines were available and they not always had enough supplies.      

On our third day, we continued South towards Malaga, and, once we finally reached the coast, West into touristy Marbella. The previous days it had been extremely hot, so we thought to stop for some purchases. Alia found some little USB fans and we did not hesitate to get a couple of them: without a doubt, they would become really handy. We decided we would name them Herbert and Felicia. Herbert's blades rubbed a bit against the plastic housing, causing some vibration, which produced some noise similar to the constant repetition of his name: "Herbert-Herbert-Herbert.." On our way to Africa, the gang was definitely growing big!: Monkey, Bunny, Robert, the three little rabbits, Lionel, Herbert, Felicia and a few more I did not had the chance to mention yet...

Our last stops in Spain, certainly some really good ones, were Ronda and Sierra de Grazalema. I was still really tempted to drive back towards Sevilla and turn around there, so that we could visit Doñana National Park. Doñana is one of Spain's most reknown national parks and we really had a unique opportunity to visit it, now that we were driving a Land Rover. However, I did not find the courage to even suggest it to Alia. It seemed to me she was feeling anxious to get to Tarifa and finally arrive into Africa. We first went to Algeciras to inquire about ferries, but we found out Tarifa was a better option. So, we drove over there to spend our last night in Spain.