Sudan desert stretches far no voice. Liberty weighs as marble and people, to much confusion, remain anchored to their good manners. Those in which education makes you have to be generous with overseas and force eye contact to say goodbye.
The trip by Ethiopia motorcycle was being the opposite of what I had imagined. Instead of finding the desert, refugee camps, children with swollen tummies by hunger and high poverty, I found myself in a country of high mountains and green.
Two kilometers later we were in one of those places that you never arrive and when you arrive you never forget. Those ruins of the Meroitic kingdom, continuator of the kingdom of Napata, they seem to have their roots in the desert sands that climb their rocks. Its 2300 years of life turned them into stone, in eagle, tree, lie or maybe in torch.
One November afternoon my friend Victor Hugo showed up at my house and told me about Maputo map. I said exactly: "In my house Azores years I have hung a map in which I pointed out some routes I wanted to do for the world. It is time to make the first.
"Nos dimos cuenta de que en el norte de Sudán hay un pueblo sin tiempo definido, barely sneaks into the destinations of travelers, whose history seems destined to be buried as his temples. But Ahmed opened the doors of his house, forever, unconditionally."
At that time it wakes up the world. Early wake, coffee and silence: always compensates. Every journey stops at dawn because it is the time of the truce, the point where the traveler understands his whereabouts. Then there is the bustle of stories, the lives of others passing loop, the miles of road ...
There are glacial rivers, tinted waters of the Amazon basin, rivers flowing through valleys is impossible in Mexico. Some drag become less lyrical and wild, other cross deserts to remind us that without them there is death only Sandy.
Trusting others is the most humane way to live the adventure. No fear of another, enjoy the difference and learn from it, this is perhaps the true legacy of a world tour.
I'm tired of waking up with a Sudanese glued to the hump, however sympathetic it. What I want is to get out and leave behind the black hole and all its inhabitants.
Wadi Halfa is a moridero. We can stay here forever accompanied by dust and life goes slow. My routine is always the same, sometimes lively night visits as of last night. I heard noises bag, like someone in our olives hurgase.