Probably 25 years ago you could catch me playing under the dinner table of my old flat.
I wasn’t playing hide or seek by the way. In reality, I spent a careless amount of time pretending I was camping. Yeah, a white linen spread on top of the table was enough to cover the whole furniture and create a “tent”.
Super Nintendo or any other toy couldn’t beat the magical time I had imagining I was somewhere outdoors in the mid fantastic 90’s.
I attribute this peculiarity to my family that always took me to camping trips around the Baja California peninsula in my tender years, so I guess I loved the time well spent outdoors ever since..

   Until that time I found myself cold, wet, and terrified in a rural Italian province which I obviously didn’t know anything other than that I was exhausted and the moon was about to pop. As I cycle my way across this desolate region the sense of fear and panic was controlling me every kilometer I spin by dark roads that were taking me nowhere but doubtful corners.
Meanwhile, anxiety started to kick in between desperation and concern through alleys of the quiet region. In addition, my head revolved with countless questions that distracted the grace of the blooming hills. “Why the heck do I continue exposing myself to danger? ” I was really afraid about wild camping and to continue doing so for the rest of the entire trip. Frighten enough that I thought of quitting the tour at least twice.
Then I remembered the story I said earlier..
How I used to enjoy playing in my house when I was a kid. I realize I was doing somehow the same shit but with a couple of years in my back and actually in “real life”, in Italy not in my comfort zone.
Continuously, I took a deep breath followed by a lasting exhale as I usually do when I’m agitated and said to myself..

“Take it easy, your just a kid playing around once again..might as well just have fun”

Shortly, the fear I had was steadily decreasing and the motion of adventure kept me in the hunt for a safe spot where I could rest. Under a bridge where a canal was flowing by was further the most tranquil place I could hide and call it a day.

Next morning I reminded myself to keep my child spirit high and to continue with the flow.

By the flow I mean:

Drink coffee till I feel the high…or something..

Appreciate and enjoy everything I saw on my way with lentitude..

Eat ice cream 3 times a day if possible more..

Strictly sleep 8 hours..

Strictly treat myself.

In essence, how beautiful were the days when we were kids. Timeless and enjoying every small thing. Everything was fun and without prejudice. To date I always try to remind myself those golden years it keeps my mind tranquil and joyful without fear, stressing much, or being serious as it “has” or “must be”. That’s how kids live right?
In the momentum, worriless, and not giving a single f..
A state of mind that gives me the opportunity to adapt and see the world as a playground and collect experiences to fill my soul.
Taking every adventure as a learning phase that will prepare me for a future challenge or perhaps next life scenario.

I was in Italy a little more than a year ago and definitely time flies. It took me over a year to post this short diary. It’s really cool because I started out brainstorming after cycling across the country, so I had the main idea but not exactly the words.

The idea kept within myself ever since..adding a little bit here and there, re-editing, and questioning if I should post the final result and fuck yeah I have to because one day I want to go back and remember it took me forever and several places in between but I’m still here adding another god damn chapter to the book of my life and a note to myself of a line that I recently read and caught my attention:

“Life is too important to take it too seriously”

I found the line in the book,  Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff…and It’s All Small Stuff by Richard Carlson.

Grazie mille!

I have no clue why Audrey Hepburn said “Paris is always a good idea” but I do know..
arriving to France in a bicycle was a bomb ass idea..forrrrreal

 

 

 

…zippin a glass of apparently oxygen after km’s of hills is always a great idea of course..

 

 

Waking up somewhere in the French Riviera aswell, no doubt about it..

 

 

ordering a coffee and a croissant in French every other day when I don’t even dominate my main language was probably the best idea ever cause I made a fool of myself and it was fun. Merci!

 

 

I was really proud and excited to find out what “fromage” meant after a couple of days of roaming around. Now, I could order and obviously eat it! Yeah, it’s cheese but I didn’t knew till I saw it in a breakfast menu. The words, “Sortie” and “Fromage” are two of the words I saw the most everywhere in France and had trouble to find out what they were. One is exit and the other cheese, I ate an omelette au fromage to celebrate that damn life accomplishment..

Knocking cars in Aix in Provence or a dog posing for a flick, what bout that!

 

 

 

French pastry is not a myth is a must..

 

 

creepy as the Blair witch movie but hilarous, I made it to the Cannes festival just in time..

 

 

 

 

Not bragging  but my $200 pesos jacket which I lift in a flee market over in Mexico had my current and next location . A bientot Cannes..

 

 

 

 

At the end I didn’t knew if Paris is a good idea or not but one thing for sure I know is that giving two fucks would always be a great idea.

note to myself.

 

 

 

Have you ever been in a 12 hour flight next to a baby? I mean, a baby like a child not a hot curvy girl.

Well, I guess I have to cross this off the list because Jesus Christ AKA God decided to put me next to a newborn baby for a transcontinental flight from Los Angeles to Madrid. About to be a long journey..

It has been like a ritual how I prepare myself before the flight takes off. First, I play my favorite song in my mp3 player and then I cover my face with a beanie. I do this just in case something goes wrong with the take off. For example, the plane crashes, gets in fire, and probably everyone dies. That includes me. This ritual has been a success to avoid any personal panic attack and in case I die I’ll die happily with a rush of adrenaline from Death From Above 1979 between my ears.

Take off, was good. The baby wasn’t to excited about it though. 

A loud stubborn cry made me uncover my face and inspect what was happening around with my fellow “neighbors”. Yes, very obvious..a baby crying and two young parents dealing with him with a repetitive “shhh,shhhh,shhh”. 

“Lo siento” the father said a few minutes later with a Spaniard accent. Which I just replied with a smile and a polite “No hay problema”.

Realizing I wasn’t going to be able to sleep at all I started typing a few things in my phone and semi planning the next 90 days in the old continent. I was really focus on my thing until the father asked me if it was my first time in Spain and all this popping bonding questions that he brought to the table.

Luckily, the baby was deeply in sleep by now that I could maintain a conversation with both of the native Spanish parents for the rest of the flight.

Is it legal to wildcamp? Is it legal to do this and that? Is it expensive? Where do I go? Where do I stop? How do I get there? What if? Where can I?

I wasn’t out loud crying like the baby but now I was absolutely more noisy than the child. I couldn’t stop asking questions and questions and questions by anymeans..

I wish one day they could read this and see the pictures of all the places they told me to go and stop.

If it wasn’t for them I probably had missed La Costa Brava.

La Costa Brava is the Northeastern coast side of Spain that runs from Blanes to Portbou, France. Fantastic views, weather, scenary, hills, downhills, and nature. Just like in the Hollywood movies but fancier. I didn’t took that much pictures considering that I wanted to enjoy every single second and record every image in my mind. Eventhough, I took a few for my future grandkids to see just in case they think I’m bullshitting them..

There is a lot of spots you can stop and stroll  between La Costa Brava. I chose two just because the names sound hella cool, Tossa de Mar and Cadaques.

This two touristic places are not expensive as I thought…well it only gets expensive if you are on a strict beer, pizza, and ice cream diet. Other than that I highly recommend to stop and give them a try.

In Tossa de Mar I met this old vivid character, his name is Giovanni. After a few “cañitas” he told me:

“Estas haciendo cosas de niños pequeños” ( Your doing kid stuff ). I didn’t catch his tone of voice nor in what way he ment to tell me that but it was funny. He was right, I’ve been doing it since the Stone Age..

 

Cadaques, located 100km up North from Tossa de Mar is where Salvador Dali decided to live and invest his peaceful time into art. I personally don’t know much about Dali other than his moustache but for art junkies I think this would be a great place to discover more about him. You can find his house that is now a museum to visit.

But if you are not interested in art or history or Dali or anything in between. You have other options like ice cream. I literally spent a day eating ice cream and watching the day go by. The view was georgeous with a soundless environment that made this a perfect place to rest.

Dali absolutely knew where to live. Not because of the ice cream he had around the corner but of the tranquil life he chose..

…quality instead of quantity.

 

Way back in college I wrote a fiction essay as a final assignment for the endless insipid fall semester of 2013. The story was a round up of a kinda James Bond thrill. The main character that had a buzz cut, slim, and nordic appearance was chasing a Swedish model through out the globe. He had to save her ass from some evil futuristic robots that were messing around planet Earth on the year 2889 or so. At the end of the story of course he saved her and of course he was the hero and if there was any doubt if he ended fucking her….yes, he absolutely did. Day and night just like in the classical movies.

What I liked about this character, it’s the fact that he had a super power. He could teletransport anywhere as soon as he snapped his fingers. One day he was in Malibu, Wednesday in Slovenia, and the weekend in Croatia. Other than that he was a normal human that enjoyed fresh orange juice in the morning and chocolate milkshakes at night. He also had a black Porshe Carrera, which he used to cruise around the Mediterranean every now and then.

To summarize all this bs I wrote to pass my english class; This guy lived an easy life. He woked up anywhere and snapped his fingers whenever he felt the need of some breezy air. He also had to rescue hot models when he had to and collect speeding tickets through the French Riviera in his down time. Lucky him.

Second time in stunning Spain, first time in Barcelona. Spended a couple of mornings high on coffee and bumpin to my favorite disco jams. Also, hitting up the trails of the beach coast and browsing for my future affair in local bike shops between the crowded metropolitan block. After a few days of bike hunting I found by merely coincidence Orbea Campus BCN. As soon as I enter this top store I saw what I needed and was looking for. It was shocking, kinda when you cross eyes with the correct person at the dance floor. You know what I mean right? I froze in front of the bike like 5 seconds and said “fuck yeah” in my head. Now, I just needed all my camping gear which was relatively easy to find it..Europe’s biggest outdoor gear supply store is named Decathlon.
You can find about anything to go to the moon and fucking camp over there.
So yeah, I grabbed what I needed…

 

 

I’m not going to lie, I was scared to start this tour. Different country and continent. I didn’t had a map or plan, I didn’t knew the rules, roads, or policies. Basically, I didn’t knew shit. I just knew I had a bike and had to move forward. So my brilliant mind said, just follow the curve of the Mediterrenean..and that’s what I did…just follow the sea, zig zag, and basically get lost..

At the end, apparently my English teacher enjoyed the essay so I did graduated.
Above all, I turned that science fiction story into a real one.
Five years later I was smashing down the Mediterrenean, kinda like the dude from the story did. Not in a black Porsche, but in a black bike. Lucky me..I guess I wrote my own destiny at school..

 

 

If you ended up reading this, thank you very much for your time. Remember to write your dreams in a piece of paper, with patience and attraction it might become real.
Now play this song while you roll:
Escort -Cocaine Blues (Greg Wilson Rmx) 

 

Fly: Norwegian (Cheapest airline to get to Europe from USA)
Stay in: Hostel One
Drink: Macera Taller Bar
Visit: Mercado de La Boqueria
Exercise: Playa de la Barceloneta
Get Lost: Barrio Gotico
Don’t miss: Cementiri de Montjuic

 

 

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