A militiaman of not more than 15 years we anxiously look, the submachine gun over his shoulder and a cigarette dangling from his lips, not knowing what to do. We stared in silence, tense, waiting for something, I do not know which. In these cases, as always, is the most absurd coincidence that breaks the ice, when your phone rings Barca anthem.
An area and a culture whose visit is restricted to tourism and only accessible by air or walking near 500 miles through a spectacular forest, yet, the planet. (...) The ascent begins very early Murud. Along with Joe Layan, Guia mi Kelabit, we start the ascent of their sacred mountain and looking for traces of the Penan, the original inhabitants of Borneo, real men of the jungle (...) For Juan Ramon Morales.
Our partner throws a flare and lights another, partly illuminating the void, an immense half flooded room with vaulted ceiling studded. Some walls can see growths resulting from dampness on what seem very rough inscriptions. We are under the Hippodrome, next to the Palace, and we have traveled a path, formerly adapted to communicate both places or to facilitate the escape from them ...
The convoy stops are eternal and give us time to tour wagons. The next to ours is like a refugee camp, people cooking in the ground, a pair of canvas stretched under which a child a few months slumbers between the tremendous din of his mother talking loudly and radios with music blaring.
I give up my life for a vague dream awakened in pages read in volumes of youthful adventures, travel books, Navigation trials. And now just wait for the moon and tides make it possible to lift the hulls of 10 meters of Jahazi, beached on the sand of Africa, without rigging or covered, as abandoned tortoise shells.
How often we, pro travelers, after crossing miles of desert, starve, cold, suffer illness or "bugs", We ended up being nothing more than "Tourist" for the first location we have found. Not very flattering but quite realistic.
As the helicopter that will take us back is about, in a sea of reindeer, pastors dismantle the chums and leave without saying goodbye. The word "goodbye" makes no sense for them, and "thank you". In this world nothing is hard and harsh calls, everything belongs to everyone and is dismissed because the security of the reunion is general for all.