A special holiday in Mozambique
There was no letter or flyer Gothic sterile formalisms. I heard one morning wet feet, walking through a sea that was not sea, cahoots with low tide the Indian way back Mombasa. Nor it was needed much more. He glimpsed in his eyes clearly that special party Undated in the place where it all began, on the banks of the same waters that now ensimismaban his confidences. I began to prepare for the challenge. A special party in Africa.
One year later, five friends, although some still did not know who were, We jumped in a plane at Barajas road Vilanculos, on the coast Mozambique, a country forgotten in a forgotten corner of the world. -In happy astronaut definition dear Sancho Pancho– I had prepared everything. Or so he said. He had undertaken five years ago the same way, if no return, leaving behind the boulevard of broken dreams that had stoned. From outer space cursed continent, any pillar of salt is shattered by the distance, not forgetting. Just be brave enough to get away and dilute the misery in the peaceful serenity of perspective.
It was not a party to use. There was no letter or flyer Gothic sterile formalisms
This special party could not be a more. The guests came from Bagdag, Bucharest and Cairo, Rome and Treviso, Azores, Kuala Lumpur and, also, from Madrid. In his shoes they totaled more kilometers than himself Willy Fog. The place was magical. Everything was magical. There four languages at once and none spoke out unscathed from this Babelian tower of sand and sea. The phrases were beginning in Portuguese, They were continued in Italian and (re)They killed in Spanish or English. But everyone understood.
Not, It was not a party to use in any way. In the suitcase there was no room for ties and leather shoes. The astronaut had lifted the ban convention by announcing in advance that would face the supreme trance in shorts and barefoot. It is such a bold spirit, I knew I would fulfill to the letter although he laments interpose, atony and supplications last minute, all efforts as vacant as attempting to start promises a dying.
The guests numbered in their shoes more kilometers than himself Willy Fog
To get a running start, special party started hundreds of kilometers away, in South Africa. He had to leave, the occasion deserved, a trail of wines and beers up to Vilanculos. It was almost a moral duty, incidentally, He also said greater efforts (Is it Rubio?), because the expedition took this task with utmost professionalism. And Kruger, Rino elusive, penumbradas giraffes sun, elephants bravíos, Hungry monkeys and some lazy leopard, astronaut goodbye to the wildlife of the Lone Ranger. I was happy and it showed, like the accumulated fatigue super guide, Hawk Eye, I had not wanted to give up being off, because before your special party he was forced by his friends desvivirse, very own.
And we got to Maputo, where his attentions multiplied, finally gathered all the tribe of multicultural guests. And we met there the other half of the special party, the beautiful consort astronaut, soon we showed what we already We presumed: again, our friend was not wrong.
I was happy and it showed, as the accumulated fatigue super guide who did not want to give up being off
The hours we were fingers in the sink big city traffic. The astronaut, then, He began to show signs of weakness, whether by the tension of obligated to keep as many plates spinning at once with a smile or the cold sweat that precedes any special party that prides itself as the calendar is luck settling into equilibrista. But, nevertheless, He was delivered to his grueling role of guide-host-organizadordeunafiestaespecial. while, despite the glut of kilometers still they separated us from Vilanculos, It could still be offered at seven in the morning to lead a tour of the famous train station Maputo, a glove, Fortunately for peace of mind, no one picked (thanks friend).
Two long days of road that could well have precipitated an ordeal became, however, a gift stop and inn in Chidenguele, unforgettable evening of pool and beer and dip in a lake without crocodiles. A long journey also dotted with ATMs which inevitably dying entourage left meticais- and bags of cashews, of songs Manolo García and tropics of Capricorn and stubborn fault that seemed determined to leave us without special party (or maybe it was simply the last opportunity that fate gives you to have an excuse to flee).
Two long days of road that could well have precipitated an ordeal became a gift
Even an indolent police tried to fine us because our helmsman drove with half an arm out the window, What boldness. But the astronaut, mutating to leaps and bounds in the unforgettable Michael Douglas de «Un día de furia», he refused to pay a single metical by a ridiculous penalty reeked bite umpteenth. Some come to think, in the heavy silence of bewilderment, it was a ruse to end up in jail and avoid taking the alternative in Vilanculos. But. Once more (and go a few), his sense of justice prevented him from giving in to a gulf. The agent, without putting too much resistance, ended desisting.
Paradise expected at the end of the road. In the Villas do Indian the kilometers ran and began sunrises Indian, hermits shells on the deserted beach (to shelter a relentless predator serving for Nativity scene), daily fishing trawl, the little boats beached by the tide, y el la door close-knit, Swallows at midnight to the sound of Bohemian rhapsodies and swift foxes and, especially, Archipelago Bazaruto, one of those places in the world where you have to be before you stop being. We went there a dozen hispanoitalianos two motor boats leaping over the waves with the momentum of a narcolancha. But nobody chasing us, because no one around us in many kilometers around.
Bazaruto archipelago is one of those places in the world where you have to be before you stop being
We stopped on the main island. Our astronaut was not with us. We had decided to give the day off to enjoy the affection of his mother and his brother Piero, that they had deserved. I had left, however, all prepared. We had to climb a dune a few hundred meters to cross the island and wait for our boats to the other side. That short walk was full of feelings. On top of hot sand dune, with the Indian at our feet, it was impossible not to feel privileged in unpayable debt to life.
And the day came sooner than we wished. We woke up not knowing what time beginning the special party. Is it finally try a special non-party provided taken Fantasy Lewis Carroll? The answer was much simpler: We had time on their hands. They had announced rain after a week of hot weather and would be responsible for deciding the time. That forced us to remain vigilant, always ready to run out of the pool, where daylight hours ended up becoming stuck holograms to a beer.
We woke up the day D without knowing what time beginning the special party and ruminating Lewis Carroll
Sancho, in an organizational boast unprecedented, He decided to take control in the engine room to make the party even more special. And wow he got it. It even finished the job with a moving and accurate words, leaving the bar very high as a writer and as a friend. Behind the two astronauts, barefoot as it could not be otherwise, a peddler waving in the wind pants with a vaporous face Bob Marley trying to attract the attention of guests. Because this is africa.
Special party say little because it is safe in our hearts without glosarla, unless, Despite the commendable efforts of astronaut barefoot, the abundant reserves of wine bottles was not finished and had to finish the job the next day. They have those who say they know, although there is no way to check how they know, a handful of guests ended up in the pool (some daring even in the Indian, swimming between jellyfish, Oscar can attest) and that, at dawn, someone saw the two astronauts, him with wet hair still dragging a wheeled suitcase, way wrong room. Ensure who know well, although there is no way to ensure that it were so, They are walking with a smile that lit up the beach. Beach holiday special.
Behind the two astronauts, barefoot as it could not be otherwise, a traveling wind stirred a gauzy pants
PDTA.- This chronicle is indebted to the devastating irony Isa, that woman, condemned to live in a container in Baghdad, by his own admission, as seen in Bazaruto did not stop walking until he finished the island; with affability and polyglot helenista Constan, despite the tension of never knowing what language would you answer; with the overwhelming sense of humor Sonia, alumbradora of incunable Sancho Pancho; with subtle intelligence Silvia, without whose tongues we would not have learned that, in fact, special party was consummated; with Jair, I was able to carry a guitar from Cairo just in case the music broke down and we were running out soundtrack; with positive energy Alessandra and Felipe; overflowing with enthusiasm Victor and his passion for life and maps; the tireless Jeremiah and all staff, Lucia the head, Villas do Indico; with Dani, one of the most persistent dreams hunters know; with the tenacity of Maria Luisa, we lit them all with his example and attitude every morning; with conversation and laughter Piero, brother that everyone would want to have on your side; with huge heart Juancho and the complicity of Rubio, a big guy in every way; with enthusiasm Oscar for every minute of the trip and generosity in details; with the ability to Nativity scene a dream to ride up and make it yours, and all (to 29, I remember) those who contributed to the party so special as advertised.
But, especially, with Francesca and Xavier, for the gift of unforgettable days.
Comments (6)
Zorro Veloz
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There are experiences that will remain engraved on the beach of those days. And there are texts to which we can always return. This is not an article. It's a gift. Thanks Ricardo, you're a phenomenon. And a thousand thanks astronaut.
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Ricardo Coarasa
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Thanks Zorro Veloz for those memorable dances at dawn and for that summit in the Indian forcing us to schedule the next meeting at the grave of Shackleton, not to lower the bar. Abz.
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Francesca
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The greatest gift was who were there together to create that magical atmosphere that we will bring with us always…and that now is in those beautiful words… Thanks Ricardo!!!
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Ann
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I can not stop crying… If there are two people who deserve the moon, are those two astronauts…..
Some live from earth….. May you have a happy journey, to the moon… or wherever!
I love you like juntásemos the distance between billion stars.
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Javier Brandoli
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And the astronaut is happy to have those friends orglloso, who smiles a lot when you think of the new Italian friends and is happy to have such a great companion on the ship, You can only say THANK YOU. To all my friend Ricardo and especially for giving this text for life. Thanks, Thank you, Thank you y Gracias again
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Laura Berdejo
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This text is wonderful.
Congratulations to the creator of the writing and the creators of matter to write.
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