Yes it Really Really Could Happen

Wednesday. Got a ride to the airport from Maca, hopped on a Lan flight, nice and tight economy seat, lucky it was aisle.
Thursday. Landed in Madrid.. Made the mistake of resetting time zone to ipods way of seeing things.. and that meant 5 hours instead of the actual 6. I went to check out Madrid, on the Metro, walked a lot, saw I had plenty of time, got back to Barajas, and couldn´t find my flight, at the second information screen, I discovered my plane had left and I was an hour behind. Luckily, my bag was in Barcelona safe and sound and I got on the next flight out (punte aereo).. I called up schoolmate Gonzalo Oteo, who met up with me at Praça Universitat, left my things in his apartmen, and with his girlfriend and a friend of hers we went to his bar for mojitos. Javier Meneses, another schoolmate, was at the register and went over to say hi. It was a fun night and finished with Shawarmas and watching the Praça Trippy get a visit from la guardia civil.
Friday. Woke up early, which was not easy, took the train to Sants train station, bought my ticket to Lleida. Lleida was a 2:30 hour stop, and no left luggage facilities, so I lugged my yellow backpack around the beautiful historic city center, up the steps to the Cathedral. I was feeling underfed, but I don´t like to eat by myself too much. Then got on the regional train to Pobla de Segur, which is the closest place to Llavorsi where Nacho is. After a long while.. can´t really remember how long, but it felt like 2 hours, with beautiful lake, mountain and forest views the whole way, got to the end of the line. Nacho appeared on his 400cc Suzuki sport bike and we packed my big backpack and heavy little one and sped down the rolling road here.
We went to Rafting Llavorsi, and pumped up a ducky (inflatable kayak) and hit the river. Must have flipped 7 times.. and always on the easy bits, the bigger rapids we were taking on so much water the ducky was stable as the water itself. Fun was had by all. Carol and her boyfriend David drove in that night, from Zaragoza.
Saturday. Nacho had to work till 6 and there was a bbq planned for the afternoon so we went to Andorra. I was thinking maybe a quick trek but little did I know that the Principaute is tax free shopping central for Europe. Long lines of cars at the borders, and a downtown composed nearly entirely of perfume, motorcycle gear, electronics, and cosmetics shops. Oh, and cigarettes aplenty. I picked up a few choice outdoor products but found the prices weren´t all that incredible. Some electronics were even close to prices in Chile.
Sunday. Carol left for Zaragoza, went for a long walk along trails to a town in the hills. Got a ride down on a scooter to Tirvia, and finished the trail walking back to Llavorsi.
Saw a dead horse, got lost a few times, and marveled at the slate construction of homes and roof tiles.

Monday. Rode a motorbike into France.. first time on a ¨big bijke.



Monday.. rode the bike 12 k into Sort, left it with Ximena at the bar, with the keys and jacket, and helmet firmly locked to the motorcyle. Then hitchhiked. The second car that went by took me, must have helped that it was raining. It was a couple of olders from Catalanya, thought that in Chile everyone was starving at desperate for a job in Chile.. so, can´t teach an old dog new tricks.
They left me 6k out of Seu d´Urgells, walked 3k in light rain then hitched again… lesson to be learned, you can´t hitchhike where there is no space for car to stop, plus it is illegal all through Europe.
I came to another town where a construction worker in a beat up (/literally) opel corsa, circa 1989, took me to the bus station 45 minute wait and to Puigcerdá . Get to the train station, nobody, doors locked, but the station bar was packed. Asked the propietor about getting to France (insert Mike Oldfield song here), and he was telling me that the train from there left the next day, morning and otherwise I would need to get to the French side of town in 20 minutes. Easier said than done.
No taxi outside, called from my Chilean mobile to a number he gave me. T minus 16 and taxi appears. We head out, on a ¨shortcut¨ he hadn´t taken in 5 years. Very slowly. Finally get there, t minus 5 minutes. Tick tick.

Once on the train, remembered another close call in Brussels, trying to get the train to Cologne to see Alicia. I had thought that things were like Chile were the would be plenty of public transport at all hours especially if you are 18km from the capital (I was in Waterloo trying to get to Brussels to the train station first). So… got to the train station, nothing, when I asked they said in a few hours I could catch the train out. No good, I had 45 minutes. Ok, then the bus, and of course, I had walked about 1,5Km from the main road to the station, so I simply got on a cab, and when I got to the main road, 3 minutes later, he charged me something on the order of highway robbery, say 20 dollars of the time. (1998). Incensed as I was, luck was still in the air as the bus came straight away (one every 30 minutes so had I missed it…) I asked the driver very nicely if there was any chance of his stepping on the gas. He said no but smiled and nodded. We got there with 5 minutes on the clock, running around the station, looked at the sign, ran to my quai, and saw the train, humming.
Jumped on, 30 seconds later, we were off.

Back to now:
Or then. The train entered France, rivers, dusk falling very late, many protected forests, and hills coming down to the water, very green. After a good while it became dark, and on the same terrain, castle towers and stone churches illuminated against the darkness became apparent. The moon was a sliver.

On the train, we had the pleasure of being accompanied by 2 brutish local drunks, one in black leather and another the waif thin mustachioed smelly type. Luckily the got bored of standing in the middle of the aisle- swigging mineral water swiped from first class couchettes (I had done the same as I went in, but out of necessity, if anyone knows what it´s like to pass a thirsty night on a train with not a drop of anything available- and left in Toulouse.

Next morning Paris, I was set to meet with a friend from Chile the previous day according to the plan, and I thought I would have a nasty email saying, where the hell are you, but I had no way of knowing. I had asked if she could text me but only texts from friends in Chile had arrived.

After finally getting to Gare du Nord, the sort of assigned meeting point, I tried to find internet. As anyone who has been to France recently can ascertain, public communication is few and far between. Remember this is the place that did not have internet for years but rather a proprietary version known as minitel. This is also the only country I know of where businesses publish their phone numbers for you to contact them, along with the cost per minute (something usually around 50 cents), for you to call them!
Anyway, many blocks later, I found the free market response to the situation, the Arabic phone card, IP phone call center, and internet. Happily, my keyboard was not in Arabic, and soon I was getting into le gmail. No mail. Funny. Nothing. Ok.. in Paris, and nothing.
So I sent a quick email stating that, exactly.
It was still very early so I wandered about, then at 9am, called up my friend Tamara Alvarez. Who sleepily gave me indications to her place. The metro, the street, number, and buzzer code.
Soon I had my stuff set up and we got breakfast, and headed out to walk the streets. She wasn´t working as she had recently blistered her leg on the hot exhaust of Gregoire´s motorcycle. So we had all day.
We headed towards the Louvre, and had a beautiful lunch close to Tivoli. Then, my phone rang. My friend. Three unintelligible words. To cut to the chase, she was at a metro station, things had not been going too well, and she needed to be rescued.
Poor Tamara was thrust into the situation and for several hours we did just that, finding her a hotel, and then recovering the soreness of walking with a suitcase in a very hot Parisian mid day, too many metros, and checking internet for vacancy at a reasonably priced hotel. Try google.com last minute paris hotels,. Hahaha, did I ever.

It turns out, her cousin in London had booked her a hotel via internet and it was in a Banlieu, the wrong sort of suburbs (the one that Tricky talks about in Karma Koma). She got lost, wandered for hours in this French ¨outer city¨, met some locals who tried to give her directions until a suspicious looking man in a pickup simply picked up her bags (midnight ) and drove her directly to the hotel and offered any additional assistance.

After that fun, we walked up Montmatre, then tried for a night of partying but Tamara´s leg was not doing so well with the heat of the day, but we did actually do lots.

Next day, Louvre.
It is beyond words, the size, and collections, and the best artwork, the sort you have only seen in books and pop culture, suddenly are there right in front of your face.
And five hours blew by. Until my feet and those of the rest of us could no longer take it.
But fascinating is too light to describe what is inside. A true treasure of humanity.

I had to catch my train the next day to Cannes, very early, but we still went out, did a night drive of Paris, got together with some friends, and finally crashed in bed well past three, with alarm set for 6.15,

Cannes
If there is craziness in the world, and there is, it seems to concentrate with great intensity in Cote D´Azur.
You have palm tree lined streets, flanked by classic styled luxury hotels, showoff cars, and everybody preened like waterfowl in peak mating season.
I had been offered a place to stay, quite a while earlier, but as I tried to confirm that for two weeks previous, I got a nice little text message the night before saying, sorry, it is not going to work out, but we should meet anyway. Right.
So I checked into one of those charming little places with the shared shower, and breaktaking view of la Gare, but at least I had a toilet in ma chambre. And it was 35 euros. So, preened myself a little and paid heed to a text from Olivia (see mountain biking Uspallata). It read Stillking party, 141 Lauvrois. On the hill.
One of those villas, overlooking the ocean, greenery, big pool, full of bodies, barbecue being seen to by a pro, 2 bars, tennis court, massage area, ok.
I actually ran into a lot of people I knew, and ended up being told of all the rest of the parties in town. So this is how you do it.
Ended up at the Gutter bar, after going to a few places. The Gutter Bar, hmmm, probably wikipedia has something better on it, but it´s basically a streetfront bar where so many people try to go that everybody spills out like a swish block party, all the way to the Majestic hotel on the other side of the street. And people are talking shop, the whole time. Drunk but talking business.
This is how you do it?

The next day I met more people, meetings, walked the beach, saw the mega yachts, and decided that I should make the most of things and head back to reality. Got to Paris that afternoon, hung out with Tamara, Gregoire and company, including Pedro, from Chile, who just completed a stint at the world´s largest particle accelerator in Switzerland. All 28km of it. Multibillion euro investment et al.

Today… woke up nice and late (still tired from Cannes) and grabbed the bikes to ride around Paris. Top tip, Rent one or get your hands on a bike if you go in good weather. The city is flat, and so much more ground can be covered than on anything except for a scooter. Probably more. Notre Dame, then Louvre, Grand Palais, braved the Arc de Triomphe (lot of sweating there), Eiffel tower. The whole time we were meeting up with Gregoire and Tamara, they on their motorcycle.

Then to Pompidou, lunch which was great, big and not too expensive.
Marie Duhart arrived and we all took off to Le Marais. Whole neighbourhood composed of beautiful 6 story apartment buildings, And the coolest shops in the world. I think they don´t rent space if you are not exceedingly cool.

Then, rain. And on the bike again. Home, and to Montparnasse to get on this train to Nantes. Where I will be heading in at 11. 2 hours, 410 km. The electric posts fly by and when we cross another TGV in the opposite direction I think of the upwards of 500 km of opposing speeds.

So, listening to Virus, with Imagenes Paganas.

Hope to get a wifi connection before I leave!

Axel