Spain #7

Posted April 22

I wake up at the most sad camping so far and by far … .. Worse than this will not be this trip. But hey, I have slept and I have a nice apple breakfast for lack of better and of course a cup of solvent that coffee should be called according to the manufacturer. I am behind it, you should not expect me to get caught and be on the road within 30 minutes. Everything goes ‘silenciosamente’ … .. calmly. Holidays !!!!

But nevertheless, I drive away at 9 o’clock and wave to the cheerful doorman-toiletboy-waiter-manusjevanalles …… Adios and ehmmmm till now uhhhhh never again.

2 bends further pick up the route again, I was 800m off course as the crow flies. Beautiful….

At Tuejár I turn right on the CV-390 and the first cautious turns are turned on. The tires are not warm yet, so calmpies on. BAM, after a few kilometers a view of the godmother youngster ……. Stop along the side and take a picture. There are 3 motorcyclists who pass me and all 3 ask them, “Bueno?” I make the gesture of taking pictures and they put their thumb up. I also get back on again and after 2 turns I start to fade from my saddle again. The view of just faded at this view here. Stop again, gloves off, tank bag open etc etc …… The camera is ready to grip. Glowing glowing ……. I am going to fall in love with this wasteland. It is a reservoir that I am looking for and I can not escape the impression that I am going to grumble over it. Well, 2 x guessing …… .. Taking pictures again and suddenly I see the 3 men from just behind a building from a parking lot, helmet in one hand and other hand already stretched to give me a hand. “Hola amigo, where are you going ?, asks one. I answer and they ask a hundred. I give ninety-nine answers, finally never show the back of your tongue. They like it, pats are not countable and at the end of course they are on the picture for Ollandaaaaaaaa! They continue, I continue. Well, curves …. A lot of turns … .al weatherrrrr. Climb, descend, fold to the left and to the right. I think about J-P, with his tips and tricks. Much of him learned in 3 days training in the Eifel, and it is now so terribly useful. But I’m sure, somewhere this year a follow-up or repetition. I notice that I turn to the left far too much in the middle line. Not good, he may pound out. The afternoon is approaching and I notice that only an apple and a cup-a-soup in the morning is not really a filling breakfast. It might be creative, but that does not stop it. It is exactly 12:12 when my counter is at 101010 KM. I had missed the ton, luckily not.

Spain, a pretty catholic country where Sunday still rest. Especially in the interior. According to Google, there is a store open to 2 hours 13 km away. Should be OK. FlopFlop, gas on it and I leave my route for the umpteenth time. But I roam and I enjoy it to the fullest. It is around 1 and when I enter the village Jarafuel and get lost. I speak to an elderly lady and she understands me but does not understand me. Her Spanish is also no longer what it is I think …… More people join and soon 5 or 6 people are busy discussing my fairly simple question … “Señora, supermarket?” Fortunately, there is a man who fluent England speaks. He asks what I am looking for and says quickly, “Follow me, amigo!” I turn around and less than a minute later I am standing in a shop where time has stood still. Not just time, but she is not 21 anymore. A baguette, 4 thick slices of ham and 1.5 liters of water ……. € 2.35! I think it’s beautiful. Opposite the shop is a square, I take place and tear my baguette into pieces and frot a piece of ham in between. Of those tasty wet thick slices on fresh baguette, butter is really not necessary! To a man in front of me I ask if he wants to take a picture, but in the end a photo with self-timer is even more promising than his attempt. I thank him, raise my thumb and think …… .. soup chicken! A wall, camera on and with the mobile click a few photos. Hoppa, ready. The baguette slips into it like a sweet cake and the intention to save for tomorrow at breakfast is quickly lost.

The landscape is flat, almost dull flat …… dry! But still, it is my Death Valley.

I am aware that we can not empty our planet endlessly and that we have to find a different source of energy. But horizon pollution in MY Death Valley …… This goes too far. Everywhere I look are windmills, not 10 or 20 but just 50-60 or maybe 70. Bah …… .how understandable too!

Time for a photo moment. Skilfully I send my motorbike into the roadside, and park it near some olive trees. Funny … .. Click, click and done. But I do not yet. I need it and am glad I have a roll of toilet paper with me. Hey, we all have to!

I walk a bit further and do what I have to do. Just at that moment a car comes along and he honks. You can do that, but if you pollute the horizon of MY Death-Valley, then that has a price of course.

Relieved, I get back on and have to climb a decent edge to get back on the road. I give gas, shoot over it and can keep my balance. Oo, went just fine. Gray keeps coming and going green and curves. The landscape always changes color and structure. Green is Terracotta, very terracotta. What beautiful beautiful beautiful!

“Nothing is as therapeutic as talking in yourself,” Miriam once told me. And it is true, today I have a whole conversation with myself in my helmet. Nobody hears me, nobody disturbs me. It is a time to put some things in order. Things that have kept me busy in recent months. Sadness, love, annoyance, incomprehension … .. They have not been fun moments, but I have to deal with them. And now I can talk aloud to myself. Pooh, what is this intense but brightening. I can not stop a tear. And I’m sure, I’m not the only one who does this. Puzzle pieces will fall into place in the coming time, not in one go, but that is not necessary. Time heals all wounds! Was this perhaps the secret goal of this trip? I know the answer …

There are many dilapidated shacks and slums along the side of the road. But my eye falls on a pool filled to the brim and a nice collapsed building. Stop, take pictures and then I wonder … .. “Who celebrated a child here, which parents were enjoying everything that Spain has to offer in the sun? Who drank Sangria here, sweetened olives and perhaps also had a view of a beautiful woman with curls and eyes as big as beads? “Sigh ………

“How old will those children be who made their first splashes in the small oval paddling pool?” I try to get a picture of the scene that took place here many years ago. There was a sign that swimming in the bath was no longer allowed. Seemed to be no inviting idea given the color of the water.

The CV-590 continues and I follow him submissively. But not without resistance, the road continues to please me. Especially when I am suddenly in the middle of the orange trees. Funny, will I be able to eat them already? Maybe, but a fence prevents my nefarious plans. Around 4:30 am I go looking for a campsite. Another one hour drive to the coast, so just consult Google. Xeraco, 65 km away. Just a last favor of mother nature with a good series of curves. The asphalt is nice and tight, it even splits. My tires stick like crazy and like a spear I go to the east. My toes are on the ground, I do not think I’m only wearing my tires on the middle part of this ride. Hatseflats …… .. I shine from ear to ear. How happy I am with these Pirelli’s … .. I am less happy with my Sena headset, the battery is drama. He does not survive a day. I’m disappointed. The store is already informed, I want another set. This is not me, not for that money …… .sorry! I do not hear my navigation and sometimes I just feel like the PaschaVanHattem discoshow in my helmet. Pascha is a friend and world famous DJ in Zaanstad and surroundings. Last year he composed a cuddly music and that is on my mobile, so that I can play it through the blue teeth. But unfortunately so ……

The campsite is close to the sea, quickly found and after a bit of rubbish about passports I have for € 12, – a place including the largest pool I could wish for. Tomorrow morning I will dive into the sea, no matter how cold …………

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