The Transformed Journey

I'll begin my week of productivity with a word on travel in the developed world. I officially crossed over to this forgotten place (Europe) nearly one month ago when I crossed the Strait of Gibralter on the 35-minute ferry ride from Tangier, Morocco to Tarifa, Spain. In the ensuing weeks, I visited four of Spain's World Heritage Sites, including the Alhambra, Generalife, and Albayzin in Granada, the Llotja de la Seda in Valencia, and the historic cities of Córdoba and Toledo. I met up with a couchsurfer for an awesome Celtic festival on the northern coast before returning to Madrid to see Spain win the World Cup for the first time. Then it was off to Paris for Bastille Day celebrations of all sorts.

So you'd think with everything I've seen and done in the past month that I'd have heaps to write and update. Well I don't, and here's my explanation: I'm just not good enough to do it justice. Cities like Toledo, Valencia, and Córdoba have been written about before and will be written of again by writers who are much more elegant and productive than I. Sites like the Mezquita in Córdoba or the Alhambra in Granada are almost too much for a single blog entry. Washington Irving wrote an entire book devoted to stories inspired by the Alhambra, and I'm not going toe to toe with that giant of early American letters. With news coverage and internet video, the only thing I could add to the parties in Madrid and Paris would be my own politicized commentaries, but this isn't the place to run away with criticisms of France's link to long-serving dictators like Paul Biya (Cameroon, 27 years strong!) or Blaise Compaoré (Burkina Faso, 23 years in October, where does the time go?)who were given honorary seats in the July 14th celebrations. And if you saw videos from Spain's World Cup fiesta, you know that words cannot describe the crazy times in the streets of Madrid.

And, let's face it, most people reading this blog probably aren't that interested in Europe's great cities and landmarks, not for any negative reasons, but simply because the Eiffel Tower or the Museo del Prado are so easily visited these days. Get a cheap flight and see them yourself. Don't rely on me to give you any beautiful descriptions. West Africa, on the other hand, is a place which few people know anything about and even fewer visit. It's easy to understand why: with all the places in the world, there are few who would choose an undeveloped country to spend their vacation money. Especially considering that you go to West Africa, not for sightseeing, but to meet the people, which is hard to do if you can't speak French (or Songhai, Hausa, Bambara, Wolof, Fula, etc.) I feel confident that my descriptions of West Africa and my experiences there are somewhat interesting, if only because it's such an unknown part of the world.

So instead of describing Europe, I'm scaling back to focus on my experiences with other people and my interpretations of a world from which I've been away for over two years. This week's blogs will be a lot more personal for sure, but my personal writing has always been, in my view, my strongest suit. And hey, this is an individual blog after all, not a travel website. For me, it's always been a lot more entertaining to write about the horrorshow old lady vomit on the bus through Western Sahara that it is to actually write about Western Sahara (which was eye-gougingly dull). I prefer to tell stories, stories like the one of my bus ride from Madrid to Valencia. I sat next to a Guinean and in front of two Nigerians. Of course, I love talking to any African I can at this point, so I take every opportunity I can get, and we were in the midst of a conversation when KATHUNK!, something broke off from underneath the bus and started it shaking:

Me: I think the wheels are about to fall off this bus.
John (Nigerian man): This can't be right, it sounds like a train!
Tobin (Nigerian woman): It sounds like an African bus.
John: Ya, but African buses can't go this fast. (everyone laughing)

A little while later another KATHUNK, this one from right under my seat. The Guinean gets up and runs to another seat.

Me: What is this , we're not in Africa!
Guinean: Spain is the capital of Africa, they're just like Africans.
John: He's right, see, the driver just keeps on driving like nothing's wrong.
KATHUNK, BOOM!
Tobin: Oh my God, he's going to kill us all.

The bus eventually broke down with a "flat tire," and now we're stuck on the side of the road for 45 mins waiting for another bus to come get us.

Me: You know, if this WERE Africa, we'd have this thing fixed in twenty minutes.
Tobin: Twenty?! Try ten!
John: And we could eat some foufou while we wait!

This is just one of the more recent adventures. In the next few days, I have two more posts, one positive and one negative. For those of you who know my blog well, I like to pair the two so that they can balance and inform one another. They both deal with people and provide a clear distinction between "traveler" and "tourist," and the amazing and not so amazing interpersonal experiences I've had with people on the move and people at rest. Until tomorrow then,

Tschüß!