Day 4 and 5

All the tables are occupied in Hostal Robert, there must be 25 people drinking coffee, having breakfast, some of them have finished their first beer of the day. It is close to ten and already 28 degrees. Arriving yesterday I didn`t think much of the place at first, situated next to a rather busy road, next to a petrol station, looking quite plain. I would have preferred a campsite but the only one I found so far was a private place: I knew it when I headed there but risked the 40 minute detour, hoping they would let me stay in my small tent in a corner somewhere. It was situated beautifully, in the countryside not far from Sant Llorenç d`Hortons with a beautiful view of the Montserrat mountains but I didn`t even get past the gate, the fence was closed and the door locked, no bell, just security cameras. It was a Saturday and inside people were relaxing, playing music, jumping in the swimming pool. I got the attention of two young men lying in the gras next to the mini golf area but they decided to ignore me. I gave up after ten minutes, not too disappointed, although the reassurance of a safe place for the night would make up for the noisy atmosphere and I was curious to know if a privately run camping is willing to host a tired walker. It didn`t seem so but I would never know for sure.

I continued, back to the main road first, then west again. The road wasn`t too busy but the cars that did pass me drove like maniacs and going around the bends was a bit tricky. It is hard to know beforehand if the roads are really fit for walking, even when the maps say so, but taking the walking trails means making big detours, more intense walking (the walking cart is easy to walk with on level terrain and feels almost weightless but going up and down is tiring) plus they are not always connected so making some progress in the sense of getting closer to my destination often means walking along roads that are used by cars. 

At some point I decided to detach C. from the belt so that if a car would hit the cart I wouldn`t be dragged along. Maybe this was a bit too dangerous after all. Change of plan? I stopped at the next crossroad where there was a choice of continuing on a slightly busier road or going into the forest and reach Piera with a big detour, meaning it would probably be wise to sleep in the forest where there would be no water. Did I have enough on me? While still wondering what the best decision was, I looked in the direction of the voices I had heard for a while and discovered that what I thought to be a private Saturday afternoon gathering was in fact a bar. Rule number 3: when you don`t know what to do, sit down and wait and see what happens. Also: a cold drink would be amazing.

A handful of people occupied the tables in the shade outside. They jumped to the occasion of a new distraction in the arrival of a stranger in a suit, strapped to a little wagon and before I could even order something one of them came up to me and made a silly joke. He had many questions and the others listened attentively while I explained what I was doing and why I was dressed like this. I wasn`t sure if they got it, but they were curious and later, when I got my cold drink and was writing in my notebook I heard them explain to several newcomers who this odd looking person was. I talked a bit with the woman running the place, on duty every single day of the year, 16 hours a day, in the weekends sometimes up to 24 hours. She didn`t sound resentful, a bit tired though. “We`re like a big family” she said, “but it isn`t easy”. When I wanted to use the bathroom she came with me to unlock the women`s toilet. “The other one doesn`t have a seat” she said with a smile, “you will love it”. And I did, because she did. It was soft and cushioned and had a picture of London on the part covering the lid. “Have you ever been to London?” I asked her when I got out. “Every time when I go to the bathroom!” she answered. “That is when I have a break, like a mini-holiday” and she laughed so loud the men outside looked up. 

A young woman proudly tested her English on me (I normally stick to Spanish as much as possible), a man tried to sell me some clothes but before I could answer myself the whole table next to me was already telling him why I didn`t need more clothes or more of anything. One of them shared his difficulties of learning English in London with me (what was it about London here?) while finding it easier in Dublin, “where they speak clearer”. He had also studied Chinese for a year. “Is there a spiritual aspect to your journey?” he asked. A big question. Before I managed to formulate an answer the funny guy asked “Do you eat?”, “comes?” (in Spanish) and it took me a few seconds to realise what he meant: can you make a living as an artist? “Yes” I answered. “That`s all that matters” he said.

It was hard to leave. There were so many things they still wanted to know before I got going. When I explained that I slept outside as much as possible the young woman wasn`t satisfied with me just having 2 knives on me, a Swiss one for handy stuff and a razor sharp hunting knife, just in case (although I never used it and don`t know what I would do if an occasion arrives where I would need it). “You need a gun! There are locos and jabalies! I assured her that I wasn`t afraid of wild boar - luckily I didn`t know what was coming up  - and that the places I choose to spend the night are not places where the dangerous people like to hang out. “It is more dangerous in my home city, Barcelona.” Many beers had already been consumed and the men became slightly emotional in a touching way. The cynical one, who had welcomed me with a joke was now getting sincere and direct. “The world is a mess” he said, “and it is important to care for each other and trust each other. To live differently. Eres buena persona. You are a good person and you are doing a good thing.”

They all waved when I took off, shouting some last words of advice (“Buy gun or no sleep!”) and well wishes. They made my day. They make me walk. They understood when I was wondering if I wasn`t just doing something ridiculous and presumptuous. They moved me when I wasn`t sure how to move and what my motivations are for doing this. You could say they were my audience while I was their audience but of course it was more than that. We listened to each other, we were all just human beings, living life as best as we could in very different ways.

C. was put to the test in the forest and mastered the difficult rocky tracks well. I found the perfect spot, on the edge of a field, away from the road, under some acorn trees and with a massive hole in the earth in my back. When the sun started to go down, the wild boar appeared. First one, running through the field, then a group of maybe seven, some of them huge. I had expected some but not so early and not so many. I moved my mattress as close to the hole as possible, turned C. on his side, transforming him from cart into barricade and scared off the first ones approaching with my headlamp. I wasn`t too worried. Yet. Wild boar aren`t agressive when they don`t feel threatened and they are just as afraid of human beings as the other way around. They are curious creatures though and they have a great sense of smell. I don`t keep food on me when I am sleeping in their territory but I can`t remove the scent of the food I carried with me.

There were fireflies all around my sleeping area and what I first thought was lightning was in fact fireworks, filling the sky with colourful patterns. I had slept for what felt like 10 minutes when they woke me up again, now really close and not responding to my light so I turned to plan B and got in the oak tree, forgetting that when I had made my plan B I told myself not to put all my weight on the first branch just above ground level. Still it worked because it broke off and startled the animals. “No sleep”. Maybe she had been right. They tried again a bit later and I`m sure they meant no harm but I wasn`t completely sure they would think the same of me so I got in the tree anyway and flashed the light from there. The rest of the night they left me in peace and I got some sleep and I even thought about lingering there for a bit after sunrise but then the hunters arrived and I didn`t want to be mistaken for one of my fellow beings and coincidentally shot and have to young woman tell the others “I knew it would happen!” It would give them a great story but I hope the one they got already was sufficient and I`m sure they prefer this one.

Maybe it was time for a night without animals and also to check carefully if none of them had travelled along somewhere on my body. The mosquitos had had their fair share already. So I walked towards the holy mountains, kept right and found Hostal Robert, which upon entering turned out to be a beautiful charming place, ran by the same family for more than 3 generations. Inside it is as if you go back in time and their restaurant has a great reputation, cooking traditional local dishes which unfortunately I didn`t manage to enjoy since I woke up from my 8 o clock nap at midnight.