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Living Freedom by Claire Wolfe. Musings about personal freedom and finding it within ourselves.

Want to Comment on a blog post? Look for and click on the blue No Comments or # Comments at the end of each post.

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A travel day for tourists

Today was a travel day. We left one semi-civilized area (where we were staying as guests of a kind American friend in his very cool, very tiny rented house) and traveled 300 miles to a remote — but this time not primitive — part of the country.

Travel days usually feel like lost time, and we expected this one to be no exception. We also had to change transport three times, all the while navigating in places we didn’t know and a language we barely understand. Kinda scary, that. I spent hours rehearsing ways of saying, “Please tell us and let us off the bus when we reach —–.”

The first leg was just what you expect third-world travel to be: a bus that started out jam-packed full and got worse and worse as we wound down country roads. I thought the conductor would eventually prevent people from getting on. But no, he kept packing ‘em in until he and at least one passenger were hanging out the door. A man’s butt lodged against my shoulder, pushing me into the fat, bejeweled gent in the next seat. Although Lorri was directly across the aisle, I could neither speak to her nor see her.

And that’s without mentioning that every local or regional bus we’ve ridden here in Parts Unknown features fuzzy dice, feathers, and music blasting hard enough to shake the floorboards.

We didn’t relish a day spent traveling in this style.

Ah … but on the second (and by far the longest) leg of the journey, different story. We rode in air-conditioned splendor on the upper deck of a splendiferously comfortable motor coach, reclining in generous, upholstered seats. And with only minimal media accompaniment.

Miles and miles, we swept along the highway. At first the land might have been California wine country except for the exotic vegetation and foreign-language signs. It was pleasant, interesting. But we said to ourselves what we’ve been saying all along, “I’m glad we came, but I wouldn’t want to live here.”

After many hours, the countryside changed. It became like nothing either of us had ever seen. Exotic, for sure. But also practical. We cruised into a land of cowboys and Indians. Not the wild-west kind, of course; but ranchers on horse- or mule-back, tending to herds of white Brahma cattle, and women in long, colorful dresses walking along the highway toting woven baskets.

Without a word exchanged, both Lorri and I knew we were in love with this land. Instead of being a “lost” day, it became a day of enchantments.

Funny how that happens. Hard to say why. If you asked me for 10 reasons, or even one reason, that this land (the very same land we’re in tonight) touched our hearts when nothing else here has … well, I couldn’t tell you. What is simply is.

We loved this strange, sensible land and went on loving it even when the national police pulled our bus over and went through checking everybody’s passports. Ugh.

In late afternoon we alighted from our fairy coach and indulged ourselves in a taxi the final 20 miles to our destination. Tonight begins the one “spoiling ourselves” period of the trip.

We’re staying in an adorable yurt-like structure (except solidly constructed, with elegant windows all around). We’re surrounded by flower gardens. And tomorrow we’ll stroll across the lawn for massages.

And we deserve it. :-)

On the bus, I calculated that, during the first 11 days of our travels, we spent only $150 on accommodations — and that’s for both of us, $75 each, or an average of $6.82 per night apiece. Not bad, eh? Of course, that’s in part thanks to our ex-pat friend and in part due to the fact that we stayed in places that lacked such fripperies as water and electricity.

And our 300-mile trip today cost $21 apiece — and that only because of our taxi indulgence, which roughly doubled what we would have paid had we roughed it on another local bus. That, too, ain’t bad.

Oh, I’m not saying we haven’t spent money. We’re tourists after all. We just haven’t spent it on places to sleep or luxury travel.

But tonight and tomorrow, it’s girls-going-wild time — a whole $40 apiece, plus the added indulgence of breakfast in bed. Oh, and shall I go for the reiki with aromatherapy? Or a deep-tissue, whole-body massage? Decisions … decisions …

8 Responses to “A travel day for tourists”

  1. L2 Says:

    Ooohhh, I think I would opt for the reiki with aromatherapy =). I am so glad the two of you are having a blast.

  2. Kevin Wilmeth Says:

    “Funny how that happens. Hard to say why. If you asked me for 10 reasons, or even one reason, that this land (the very same land we’re in tonight) touched our hearts when nothing else here has … well, I couldn’t tell you. What is simply is.”

    Love it. There are a few places that have been like that for me, too, and for different reasons. I’ve stopped trying to explain it to others because I wind up sounding like an idiot. (No snickering, now. :-)

  3. Pat Says:

    Skip the reiki and go for the massage.

    But after the free-swinging exercise, I’d be inclined to STAY in bed after breakfast.

  4. Ellendra Says:

    Claire, you mentioned in one of your articles about how you couldn’t “hear the music” of the desert, but that you knew people who could. I can relate to those who can. For me there’s a little patch of land that sings in a way that no one else seems to hear. I’d been looking at real estate since I was 12 (the homesteading dream started young, try getting a real estate agent to take you seriously at 12!), and hadn’t found a piece I both liked and could afford. But this one piece, I stepped out of the truck and was in love. Nothing could dissuade me, not the bank backing out of the loan and forcing me to go with a different bank at nearly double the interest rate, not the crotchety neighbor, not the trouble with getting a building permit. I’ve been working on getting rid of those impediments, but there’s something about this land that makes it worth it. It’s like being hugged by my best friend, every time I step out of the truck.

    I find it hard to believe that you, the freedomista, could still love any area after being stopped by police for a random passport-check. That makes me think there’s something else going on between you and that place.

    Perhaps you’ve finally found a place that sings to you?

  5. Dave Duffy Says:

    You’ll be home in time for the unveiling of the book version of Hardyville. — Dave

  6. Winston Says:

    You know, in some ways where you are sounds a lot like somewhere I’ve been here in the states. Noisy beaches strewn with garbage? All the transport services feature fuzzy dice and loud ethnic music?

    Yep, sounds like an undeveloped version of coastal South Carolina. Probably a lot nicer though, I doubt the “devolping world” has ugly high rises and 400+ pound people in skimpy string bikinis or speedos stomping around everywhere.

    But I digress, glad you see you are having a good trip!

  7. Pat Says:

    “You’ll be home in time for the unveiling of the book version of Hardyville. — Dave”

    Is it that close? Yippee!

  8. GaurdDuck Says:

    # Dave Duffy Says:
    March 2nd, 2010 at 2:28 pm

    You’ll be home in time for the unveiling of the book version of Hardyville. — Dave

    There’s going to be a book version?!
    Cool, so so cool.

    I should prolly go take a trip to Mexico…
    It would be cheaper than staying home.

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