Africa, sometimes, I despair. It gives and takes away at will. The timetables are fiction and commitments made with smiles that are not always met. These things travel, luckily, are usually arranged. ¿Point?
It happened in Luderitz, a ghost town until the mid- 50 was a major diamond mining and now has been forgotten (publish a report on this historic place later VOD). Gemstone remains, but the splendor of yesteryear are now covered with a huge layer of dust that crosses the city. I arrived there with the need to send some items, knowing that the connections Namibia be as difficult as finding a human being under a shadow. Desert to infinity, landscapes are you nailed in the eye.
Asked, to reach, the only Internet café that was open. I say that is closed, although there are three children using computers and the closing time posted on the door that you are still a few hours. When you open? "Tomorrow at nine", tell me. ¿Seguro? “Sí”. I then to a hotel, el Bay View, where there are computers. The connection is fast, but the owner, a German woman with wrinkles up in the stomach and rough look (ugly as hell) tells me I can not use the pen drive, because I can stick a virus. To no avail all pleas that he did. Ok, back tomorrow for the promised Internet café, the rest of the group is a boat trip that I jump.
Galician sailor music
After dinner, the Spanish crown decided to go. Enter the Step In, a nightclub in which they charged us at the entrance but there was no single customer. Yes, the music does not let you turn the burner. The heavy cane until I tell the DJ that we are Spanish and Spanish music that if you have. I say yes, with a big smile, knowing his success. “Tengo Reggeton”. Must have seen my face of disappointment, which corroborated when I told: "It goes to Shakira '. He had an arsenal: from the top achievements of South America to the Aserejé warpage, so we went crazy.
For the Namibians are apartheid ", I explained. "If you do not get off the ship control, get drunk and do not go to sea
How did you get here Aserejé? I knew minutes after, when the rest of the group decided to leave the hotel and I was alone, taking another drink. Then I met a sailor from Galicia who had eight years to Luderitz (on return trips to Spain). "Spanish music of the bar that I've brought, is my car ", I explained. (I will not ask to take me home to not have to endure again, thought). The city has a small colony of fishermen from a famous Spanish fishing company. "For us Namibian apartheid", I explained. "If you do not get off the ship control, get drunk and do not go to sea ". He tells funny stories type, the African immigrant. "Here was a guy in his fifties who mess with this black and say: "It kills me, me mata”. I said as we watched the women dance and it looked like he could kill Rocco Sigfredi.
The next morning, somewhat toned, I ran the Internet café. Was closed to 10 am, an hour after they told me the evening before. I go to another site that tells me: also closed, also about one hour after the time indicated as open. Back to the hotel of the German negligible. Entered, I ask him to stop using Internet, I have an emergency (I am closing the trip Zambia). Look at me and says, "is only for customers". I tell him I'll pay whatever it takes. He asks me what I do. “Periodista”. Stares at me and says sharply: “No”. He turns around and goes. In retaliation, not include it in my Facebook. Actually, I wanted to drown in the tank that was at reception.
Lost in a bank port
I'm not sure why I got all that, but the first time I felt something missing. I went to the port, where all the bars were closed and I sat down with a water bottle on a bench, fucking. I see a man come, far, to me about. “Hola, How are you?”. He replied that "tired", sought to indicate that I do not want to give me the type matracaEl smiles and says. The guy smiles and says: "I can help?”. Since that time spent almost 40 minutes talking. Of his life, policy, Money, my trip ... I do not ask for anything. Before leaving I offer snuff. Take a cigar. "You fire?”. "I keep it for later", answers while I go see her smile sadder and perennial. Within minutes I went from hate to love everything that environment, understand. How many times I will do the same in the coming months?
Then, in the afternoon, slept in a hostel, el canyon ghost. A slow evening, broad, after climbing a mountain that provided the endless desert. Amazing. After dinner came a chorus of snoring at night, where I least expected role of.
Namib dunes. Rojas, immense, until a spectacular sandstorm wiped us the vision and let us shut up in the campsite bar, mamándonos to rate 0,80 cents a glass of wine
In the morning we went in search of Namib dunes. Rojas, immense, until a spectacular sandstorm wiped us the vision and let us shut up in the campsite bar, mamándonos to rate 0,80 cents a glass of wine. We decided to store, beating kidney, while air strikes violent. At night, when we come home from bar, I mounted the store with a fellow has collapsed. I decide to go to sleep in the truck; others, stronger shops (is that), preferred to hold the mini hurricane. Not much time, at five o'clock we set up to go to the mythical dune 45 hardly sleep. We arrived early, and began a climb in the middle of the harsh sandstorm. Some crack.
I begin the climb to Carl Lewis and Javier Arques term to. It lasts about an hour climbing sand, between steps would seem that no progress. From the top you see the sunrise, bright colors of the early sun and a cloud of sand that hits us constantly scale. The view is so spectacular that I decided to get my small camera, I knew the game. As is, After several pictures the dust has eaten the machine. Fucking high, if not arranged the photos are over easy, videos, not wearing the heavy gear hanging off my back. I write this in the truck, while sleep and the sights of Skeleton Coast, Etosha…
P. D. Re-confirm what I have ever written: "What's unfortunate that I come to my travels". Everyone comes armed to the bars of Colonel Tapioca or Decathlon. I have a sweatshirt that just makes the desert freezing; had no flashlight, my bag is a sheet ...
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