23.08.2015 Sevilla, Spain

… I was lying in a sleeping bag next to a motorcycle somewhere in the middle of the field, tall grass hiding me from prying eyes. I had not money for campsite. Tormented by thoughts of the future I could not sleep. I looked up at the sky where the clouds were moving against the stars and trying to figure out what to do next. Stars slowly lulled me, but in the morning it began to rain, kicked me out of the cozy heat in the inhospitable start to the day. The mood was no good at all.

At that time, when despair came close to my mind and was going like a thundercloud overwhelm all other thoughts – there was a gleam. First one, then another, then a third … soon I was completely in the opposite mood point. Guys, thank you so much… Thank you Uwe, thank you Andrew, thank anonymous unknown. Folded wings were spreaded again. I regained the ability to move on. Each of you are now left a part of himself in this journey. And do not forget to write the addresses where to send the postcard, I beg you! So I could somehow repay you.

In the following days there was not even a lot of events, but the circumstances. Initial plans to cross the Atlantic from Europe to the United States was destined to fail. Fate decreed otherwise. I myself made a huge mistake not searching for the ship in advance, even before the start. In my thoughts and researches on the Internet all seen a little differently. Transatlantic – very popular route in the end. Of course, this is not a train goes every half hour, but … I have visited almost all the major ports of the west coast of Southern Europe – all in vain. There was something wanted to send me on a different path. At the last port, in Sines, I could have been able to find a ship. It goes each week, they said. Give us a formal request by e-mail, they said … I stuck at camping near Sines in the whole week. Every day – one answer: “we have not yet come to the calculation result of value and the circumstances of your request.” And no, you can not communicate directly with the crew. This is oil port, we are all seriously secured. No, no more can be said.

My patience ran out on Friday night. The working week is over, still there is no answer. The weather deteriorated as the always happens when I’ve got to go further. Burn all in the blue flames, I am going to Africa! I decided to took a relax day without serious thought and then come back in a way.

As if to prove the correctness of my intentions happened Saturday night. By chance I found out that at nine o’clock in the bar at the campsite stands a singer and guitarist. Local frequenter highly recommended it to me. Well, why not? So shortly before nine in the evening I was at the bar. Soon came a performer. Fate, providence, luck, I do not know what to call it. From the first song swirl of impressions and emotions overwhelmed me. During its journey more than once I have seen times when everything suddenly becomes so natural, building a feeling of what is happening in separate microcosm, saturating my understanding that there this is the journey. This was one of that moments. Beautiful voice and guitar have taken away my thoughts, and I feel that everything is going exactly as it should. Carlos was the name of the singer. His performance could reach the brightest feelings inside me. People around singing and clapping to the beat, and I was overwhelmed by tsunami of feelings and thoughts. I sat at the bar and at the same time dissolved in an event. I was like in my place, here and now. With my right solution, with support from friends, with music that drew in the imagination of the road, the villages,the turns. I wanted to laugh with joy.

The next day I moved in the direction of the southern coast of Spain.

16.08.2015 Vigo, Spain

Spain. Small camping not far from Vigo, Galicia’s main port. Two days have passed since I left the Bardou. Another European country on my way.

In my head raging storm and it echoed the dreams. Every day I dream so realistic that many times per night I wake up, often in a vain attempt to understand the reality of what I am. The price paid for impressions … This exhausts my already shakiness consciousness. I often think about what I have left, and like Ted Simon, I doubt that I could bear such pain again. Sometimes I find a confirmation of my sanity only that I can interact with the public without harm for them and for myself. A very vague concept. But who among us is healthy? Normal people do not travel in such way anyway.

That storm consists of two opposites, tearing each other, trying to take my mind entirely. On the one hand is the complete uncertainty of the future, lack of finance, lack of any chord. Just hopes which reality carefully wipes, managing to introduce the best worst. My slogans now is “better than nothing” and «I just go». The best excuse for despair, is not it? On the other hand, and I’m just starting to realize it – the beauty. Comprehensive, stunning, flooding the brain cells, beauty. It is everywhere. In the mountains, on the road, in the ocean. Even now, in the silhouettes of palm trees illuminated by yellow lights highway in fog and drizzle. In humans. Though people here lose badly to what some call “eastern mentality.” Locked in their own world, they are not interested in anything else. It’s disgusting. Only in the oldest ones survived desire for the unusual, for what is not from their own little world. And this is multiplied their greatness in comparison with the ever-bustling young people with shifty eyes. But it’s not about them. About Beauty. Nothing can give such feelings as traveling. You can visit the thousands of museums and listen to hundreds of hours of classical music, but none of this even a mile is not close to what I see and feel every day. And the new, seen by me, leaving me in the particles of the present. Ocean – I’ve never seen the ocean. I was close more than once, but something did not allow me to feel it. That rush, sudden plans, you name it. Perhaps this event were saving itself for a special occasion, like my journey. I think that’s why travel are the best way of perception aesthetics – anywhere and in any way is no longer possible to see and feel what you learned in the journey. Every morning, in addition to severe head from dreams, fills me with excitement from the realization that I will soon again look behind the corner. And the excitement does not remain unanswered – even the provincial road is able to bestow hail delightful views. This is not a work of art or documentary film. This is my movie. Every minute I gasp in admiration.

… The day before yesterday was Bilbao. Large port, said to me William. Large port, echoed Internet. Damnit, that’s not a port. It’s a city. The port itself in a couple of tens of kilometers, in the town of Portugalete. In which I found some local holiday (in the latter camp barman said that it seems the 15th of August each town on it’s own holiday). Private port, where I was still admitted in spite of the holidays, and the secretary of the International Sailors Club, which does not speak any other than Spanish. International, yes. Bad luck.

Next was Sanantander just to stand overnight and ask. Yes, a small port. But the bartender at the camp was a replica of the main character from the film Across the Universe, grumbling that nobody wants to work. Nice fellow.

And now, Vigo. Small camping not far away, bad weather … Near the ocean it is cold, even in Spain. Me again surrounded by doubts about the port, this negative part of the consciousness regains strength. It is best to help myself with the music. It joins the general flow of observable beauty and helps tame the dark side of consciousness. We will see …