The Blog
Diary of a solo traveler wandering around Europe

Unfortunately, the room that is closest to the Winery, is the Music Room, where a wind orchestra practices every day. I assume the players are quite young. Their breathing power fails to sustain long notes. It sound as if all the music students at every hour of the day are preparing the same musical piece and it is obvious that many of them are completely tone deaf.

The toilet flushes as explained, the garbage bag is opened and spread over the toilet basin, and everything is executed to perfection. The friend with the long hair found a bride, and I found wonderful relief and freedom - freedom of having to look for hidden spots or using dodgy public facilities. From now on, everything can be done in my Nadedet efficiently while maintaining all hygiene rules.

When I breath, for some mysterious reason I hear a distant voice commanding: "Be afraid." It's only then that I relax those knots in my belly and this weird trembling starts at the pit of my stomach and works its way up right to the crown of my head. My whole body is tingling and shivering and that, I'm told, is the Energy of Fear.

I walk down a dark hallway until I come to a door behind which a female voice is instructing, "Inhale and exhale" in French. Is it possible that a French yoga class is taking place here? Yoga is good. Yoga means that these people are also breathing so there's a better chance that no police will be involved. I knock on the door, and on the other side all goes quiet. Eyes wide, I wait, and then the door opens. "Yoga!" I say, "C'est très bien!"

tonight I realize there’s no one to rely on but me and my father in heaven, and so I say to myself: "first of all, let’s calm down." How in the world do you calm down when no air is going into your lungs? You meditate.

But in Alcala de la Jovada, beneath a peach tree, sleep is sweet, and early the next morning, I heat the water in my van and take a shower outside, under the canopy, with warm water washing over my bodyand a dense, cold mist surrounding me. Inside Nadedet, I dry off and put on clean clothes, and the new day smiles, promising to be better than yesterday, and I believe it.

The parking spot is perfect. Behind me are the silent village houses, and in front of me the sun is setting over a mountain. I roll out the awning that creates a sort of porch, open the back doors of the car, and lie down on the bed. If earlier I thought that the chirping of the birds was excessive, now, in the sunset, the choir has settled on all the treetops surrounding my Nadedet, and is simply chirping to its heart's content. I lie there and listen. Today is Friday. Tomor

On May 29th, after a refreshing sleep, I wake up in a hotel room in Lyon, stretch, and replay the yesterday's entire film in my mind. A wave of self-satisfaction washes over me. If I got through that, it seems I can handle anything that comes my way. At this moment in time, what I cannot imagine is how much this realization will be put to the test.

The scenery here is breathtaking, and the rain that had fallen has vanished as quickly as it came, and once again the green glistens, with the villages blending perfectly into the hillside, and the camper fills with adjectives that suit one of the most beautiful regions in the world.

With all the excitement and fear, my body, quite literally, begins to tremble. Do I need to register? Where do I park the camper? How do I connect to electricity? Who do I ask? I pull over to the side of the road, turn off the engine, and slowly make my way from the driver's seat to the ground. After so many hours of driving, I can hardly walk, and my blood pressure feels like it has dropped to an all-time low. I have to lean against the car to avoid falling to the ground.