Through Spain with a German Asian

Place versus Thing: Can one be materialistic about a place? Are we really just addicted to a stationary life and better off with less attachment to place? Are places more like objects today than ever? It seems easier to be nomadic now with fewer and smaller objects. I miss my computer, music, books, and bed. Or do I miss easy, instant access to everything and everyone, listening to familiar songs, english, and sleeping on a regular, accustomed surface of my manipulation? Hmm?

Here we go, here we go, here we go again...

The wee Wanf and I hitched our way from Barcelona to Madrid in a mere three rides and one and a half days. This is what happens when traveling with a cute little Asian girl. Our first ride, the soon-to-be forest ranger, gives Wan Fa two charms and me a Montserrat key chain upon dropping us off. Ride number two was traveling south to meet up with his brother whose wife had just miscarried. One cold, rainy, windy, muddy night of camping with stray dogs, but Wan Fa was quite the trooper. Loitering in Madrid. Walking through parks and eating too much sugar. The Prado (http://museoprado.mcu.es/), pretty lamo. Everyone was getting our expectations up with their amazing talk, but really not that impressive. However, did open-mouth stare at the wonderful lunacy of El Bosco´s "El Jardin de las Delicias" depicting the creation of the world (worth a google image search). The Reina Sophia (http://www.museoreinasofia.es/) with amazing portraits by Chuck Close, two rooms completely surface in grease, screen sculpture paintings by Manuel Rivera, photographs by Loretta Lux, Dali´s work, and the beautifully simple paintings by Joan Miro was much more fun.

Short bus ride to Toledo, a very touristy area without the tourists. Getting lost and riding La Granja Escalators (http://www.archinfo.com.tw/building/TXT/archi/2005/05010801.htm). Very beautiful courtyard of the Monasterio de San Juan de Los Reyes. Hostel is a castle!

Hitch to Cordoba with three merry makers on their way to Cadiz for Carnaval (our eventual destination). Unbelievably delicious eggplant fries, I eat two nights in a row. Acquire Spanish children's books from the 70´s about Texas and Outer space and am determined to translate them. Insane night of Carnaval in a club: 4.5 hours of non-stop dancing with cowgirls, roman emperors, and smurfs. We end our night busting moves on the bar top, just to walk for an hour back to the hostel.

Bus to Sevilla in the rain. The campsite 6km out of the city is very closed, so midday we set up camp in a nearby lot next to an airport and highway. Pass the rest of the daylight restructuring my brain with positive thoughts, yogaing and marveling at the malleability of the body, laboriously translating two pages of the first Sci-Fi book, and juggling dimpled oranges, their color glowing against the dusk sky. Wan Fa mending my "trousers" reminds me of model building with her in Vancouver. I hear stories of her family and their Chinese restaurant in Germany. Decide I will eventually build/renovate a hostel: free internet, music in the bathroom, tortillas, eggs, and salsa for breakfast. Would be able to experiment with methods and materials for construction, sweet! Still need to decide where it will be...

Bus to Cadiz, slightly hung over. Took a Spanish class here for a month, six years ago, and never thought I'd return...weird. In the sun it is the same as I remember, but not in the rain. Hostel is all booked due to Carnaval so we stealth camp for three nights next to the train station, but only after shivering until 6:30am the first night waiting for the train station to open so that we may retrieve our packs (with tent) from the luggage lockers. A HUGE thanks to Wan Fa's friend for the tent. Carnaval in Cadiz is said to rival Rio and the party is omnipresent at night (http://www.carnavaldecadiz.com/). Costumes, song, and dance everywhere. Romping through the narrow streets from one cluster to the next. Not understanding any of the jokes, songs, or riddles, but laughing just the same. At least one Cruzcampo everyday, and more at night. Daytime, feet escaping the claustrophobic situation of dirty socks and damp hiking boots to be greeted by dry sunshine. Fried seafood. The sun is too bright, sunglasses too dark. A trip to the city´s super cool camera obscura with periscope (http://www.torretavira.com/). Developing worthy freckles and lines. Wanf falling forward, upsidedown, under the mass of her pack. Dust, exhaust, and smoke from butts in a Spanish bus station.

See little Wan Fa off on a bus toward the airport, and I do the same toward Tarifa. I will miss her until our next adventure. Mountains covered in wind turbines overlooking the Atlantic. Tarifa is known for its wind sports, that being wind surfing and kite surfing. Glorious, fleeting shower in a pension. Hanging up everything I have to air out. Strange, unidentifiable goo from the beach that won´t come off my feet. Simultaneous longing and satisfaction. Spending way too long in an internet cafe...

TO TANGIER TODAY!