Good news: this will be a relatively short post! Let's jump right in, shall we? Fuerteventura was spectacular. I slept in the Madrid airport Wednesday night, and arrived in the Canaries Thursday morning. Landing was pretty cool, because we came in heading south, yet landed heading north, after making this huge 180° turn. Getting to see the island from the air was pretty awesome, too. Anyway, I got off the plane and...
I waited for the bus to Caleta de Fuste, the town where my hotel was located. I got off on the wrong stop, so I was still one town north of where I needed to be. It was beautiful out, though, so I decided a little walk wouldn't hurt. Fuerteventura is gorgeous, but future travelers beware: it is a desert. I'm not saying that it's unbearably hot or anything, it's just that there's literally nothing between the towns that dot the island. So I trudged across the rocky, dusty desert to Caleta de Fuste, but it was only about a kilometer or so. I then walked up the hill where all the hotels were [mine included], and searched for an hour. I couldn't find my hotel if my life depended on it [hey, I slept a few winks in an airport and then sat on a plane, then walked through a mini-desert, give me a break]. I asked this one hotel manager where my hotel was at, and he said he had never even heard of the place, and then proceeded to smugly shoo me off the property. After more searching, I finally found the place, and then realized that it was next door to the surly manager's hotel. What a nice person. Anyhow, I checked in, got my keys to the apartment, found it, unloaded my stuff and took a much needed nap.
I woke up late in the afternoon, and walked down to the beach. It was around this time when I realized that I was knee-deep in British and Italian tourists. Lovely. As much as I'd love to watch a thousand sunburned tourists enjoying a man-made beach sipping their €8 drinks, I decided to give this one a pass. I took the bus into the capital city, Puerto del Rosario, and walked around a bit. I bought some cereal, soda and water for the weekend, then went back to Caleta to get some dinner. The one good thing about all the British tourists is that there are some pretty decent Indian restaurants. I walked into one, got some Chicken Tikka Masala with rice to go, and went home. I scarfed it down [it was really delicious] while watching some T.V., and called it an early night, still tired from the little sleep I had gotten.
I slept in Friday, and when I woke up, I decided it was time to embark.
I packed my backpack with a bunch of water, a book, and some bluejeans. I walked down to the beach, and turned southward. I began to walk. I passed the tourist coves, the man-made lagoons, and the hotels, until they eventually turned to specks in the distance. The transition from island beach paradise to desert rock in the sea was pretty abrupt, you could almost draw a line where desert became Bermuda grass. I kept walking, the sandy shore had now become waves crashing violently against smooth rocks. At one point, a man passed me, he was taking his two camels for a walk. I walked and walked, until eventually the coast became sheer cliffs dropping off into the ocean. I walked along them, definitely noticing how strong the winds were [it's always windy on this island]. I walked by cliff after cliff, hill after hill for hours. The desert was starting to bear it's ugly teeth, it was getting pretty hot walking without any forms of shade. I had water, though, so I was good. I kept walking, walking, until I finally saw civilization in the next bay. Of course, I was still on top of the cliffs; I had to get down somehow. I just kept walking toward the town, over a small hill until I was almost literally on top of the little village. I managed to somehow clamber down the rocks and wander into what I now found out was a tiny fishing village. I felt like I was in an old western movie, everyone watched as I came down off the cliff and walked to the local bar. I half-expected to hear a "Ya ain't from 'round here, are ya?" Once in the bar, I found the people to be extremely nice, though. The lady who owned the place made me some delicious fish soup, and I told her about my travels. I ate, then stocked up on more water, and was on my way. I put on my jeans, as the sun was going to be setting soon, and walked across the seaside village to the mountains opposite where I came in. On the way, I passed what I can only describe as a little slum, a cluster of mobile homes, tarps, and fences comprising a little neighborhood. It didn't seem like such a bad place though, everyone was happy, and kids were playing fútbol in the dust. It was cool to see. I left the town in the same manner I entered it, by climbing up the other side. I saw this [intimidating] peak off in the distance, and noticed that it was really just the highest point of the mountain I was on, so I decided to give mountain climbing a try. It was really windy up here, but I wanted to summit, so I hiked on. The way up wasn't so bad, it was more like walking up a really long hill. I passed some wild goats on the way, which startled me at first, but then I found it to be super neat. I eventually reached the peak of the mountain right at sunset. Wow, what a view. I could see all the other mountains of the island, the cliffs, the coast, the waves...all of it in a soft orange glow. I have never seen anything like it.
REALITY CHECK: I'm on a mountain alone, and the sun had gone down. F*&^. Double F*&^.
I looked in the direction I had came from, and I could see the lights of the fishing village slum twinkling in the distance. I looked in the direction I was going, and I could see...nothing. A cliff. Not only had I reached the top of a long sloping mountain, but I had also reached the corner of it. The other side was a cliff, almost completely straight down. Farther away, I could see another town, bigger than the last. I decided that I wasn't going to turn back, that I was just going to press on [I wish this didn't sound so epically dramatic and meaningful, take it at face value; I didn't want to backtrack]. I slowly but surely made my way down the cliff. Alone. In the dark. I have never been so scared in my life. I could've died up there, and no one would ever have known. It felt [dis]comforting to know that at the bottom were sharp rocks, so if I fell it would only hurt a ton as I bled to death. Speaking of Death, I could smell it. The smell of Death was in the air. Seriously, something died here recently. I found it: a goat had apparently slipped off the cliff and it seemed to have broken its neck. It had been decomposing for a while now, so I decided to not stay there too long. I kept making my way down the cliff. I had a tiny flashlight to keep me company, and I seriously contemplated spending the night on that mountain. I pushed on, though. Somehow, I made it to the bottom. I remembered the direction of the next town, so I resumed walking. I walked over more hills. Even more hills. I could hear a road in the distance, and thought it would be best to head for it. I walked through a forest of dead trees, hopped a wire fence, and was on the road. I hitchhiked for about an hour, slowly walking toward the next town. I then learned that no one will pick up a weary-eyed traveler, especially in the middle of nowhere at midnight. I then also learned that the police will pick up a weary eyed traveler, even at midnight. No, these guys were nice though. I told them where I was from, where I was going, yadda, yadda, and they gave me a lift into the next town. I'm so thankful for this, as the next town was a lot farther than I thought, at least 8 miles. They dropped me off at the bus station, and sent me on my way. Nice guys, actually. I took a bus back to Puerto del Rosario, and there I got a sandwich and a beer. I walked in to a local concert in a bar, and actually had a pretty good time. I met some locals, but then grabbed a cab home, tired from the day's adventure. I slept like a rock.
Saturday, I lied in the sun all afternoon. I wasn't trying to tan or anything, my body was just so sore that it felt best to not move. It was a good day, though. I got barbecue ribs at night, and they weren't too bad. They were incomparable to real barbecue, but it was a familiar taste, which was comforting. I slept early, and went to the airport Sunday morning to catch my flight. The flight was great, I fell asleep twice, and we landed safely. I got home, unloaded, and talked with Jose. Apparently, we're going to Malta and Italy in a few weeks. More travelling? I couldn't be more excited, seriously. Monday and Tuesday were classes as usual, and today I'm getting on a bus to Granada, so I can get on a bus to Morocco. I will be sure to make another adventure out of this trip, maybe one not so perilous, though. I am a bit too excited, and I will be sure to update you on how it goes after I get back. Hasta luego,
Brian
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