High table land, Mesitas and local farmers overtaking me with their tractors, hard at work bringing in the crops, frequent Buen Camino greetings from the indiginous population in small hilltop Pueplos I pass through, walking, walking and more walking, my head full with memories of the past while my painfull feet clad in my black army boots do their work bringing me closer to Santiago De Compostela with each step...
I wonder why I did the things I did, knowing fully well they were against the Buddhist principles I came to admire so much when I was living another life, long ago in another excistence...
The strange and weird world of war I was obsessed with...my visit to the blood diamonds obsession of Sierra Leone, where people did the most craziest things to one another for Nada in Realidad, getting myself drunk as a skunk in dark obscured bars full with Negros whose eyes were filled with contempt for my white skin...amazing I got out of there alive and in one piece...the wind of a not so new country in my life blowing in my face while I step forward defiantly, the straps of my heavy backpack biting into my shoulderblades...other memories appearing inside my crazy and fucked-up mind...
Kashmir was 24 hours of sitting inside a crowded local bus with army trucks overtaking us, black clad soldiers with heavy machine guns at every intersection, their hide outs covered with camouflage nets against grenates, flooding the bus and giving the passengers a hard time, hearing gun fire and explosions each night from the comfortable but badly mantained houseboats on Dal Lake while smoking strong loacl Charras...why the fuck did I go there anyway when there is so much more to see in the Indain sub-continent...
I AM LUCKY WITH THE WEATHER IN THIS PART OF SPAIN THAT IS RIGHTFULLY CALLED lA ESPANYA VERDE, with the sun beaming down on my rasored head I stumple on, hardly being able to deal with the trails and jubilations of my life, invading the privacy of my personality...but then that is why I cam to this part of the world, why I choose to do this hard trek, one of the oldest in the human history...
My gray brain cells return to my frequent trips to prostitution rife exotic places like Las Phillipinas and Thailand, the super cheap Bordellos of Central America and crazy bars of Colombia wher the local soldiers would knock on the dorrs of small back rooms in greasy bars asking me for ID before I cuold continue my extra-marital affairs with down and out putezas with a dubious reputation and rotten teeth from too much alcohol abuse - I was drunk most of the time and could therefore hardly care about the bodily state of my bed partners - ...
It is the seventh day and my feet are getting stronger by the day, my head getting saner with each kilometer behind me while my eyes take it all in, good foot and plenty of red wine should get me all the way to Santiago, local Refugios with limited access to the Sacred Internet and often free of charge, should take care of my nocturnal dreams tht are a continuation of my day time pensive moments...
26 days of walking with one week down my proferbial Gringo ass and no idea where this trip will eventually bring me...
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