Living traveling, Tripluca.com

Tamargua Fuerteventura, our new home

Thursday, July 22, 2010, 16:30 train from Bologna-Prato

Eight years later, back to the Canaries.
This time without the van, but Ryanair, without Paul and Mario, and its passage in Morocco, but Lek and boxes of rice thai rice for risotto (recently discovered after years of obstruction to the rice does not Orthodox) and hard case generation.
If one could see me now I do not believe I have ever been a backpacker, or rather a self Proclaimed Guru backpacker early 00s.
There is nothing left of those old favorites if not the swimming trunks that I insist instead of jeans to wear, just to say "more comfortable than elegant."
A bit like the Rasta now assimilated.
Only hair and talk. Continue reading »

Corralejo, on Sunday night May 5, 2002
If you do not write because I'm not doing anything special or particularly interesting. It also helps to live in a confined space into three, with a constant guest.
It 's been over a month and a half since the last report and now I can say I have become someone I have the honor to announce it to be a receptionist in the best hotel in the north of Fuerteventura. I will not say the name within the search engines my site and make it look someone might find out that they are not here to make a career but to collect some money to spend in Asia. And 'what I want right now in Asia. Are being sacrifice, every time there is fine.
Just today I moved from Cotillo, where I was with Paul and Mario, in Corralejo where I'm with a girl in Valencia. Corallejo work and I was tired of taking the bus at noon to begin work at three or hitchhike incravattato Vallespluga as a representative of elves, under a tropical sun and wind deadly.
Think about that the other night (I had the night shift) I have an hour and a half feet in the desert at night, in a suit and tie and computers on the shoulders. Not even the Indian Juan Sepulveda has never done a trip like this, peyote

peyote, or not. And then, after a night of prints, clients, computers, sleeping, here is another hour and a half feet under the morning sun. Too much even for one who likes unconventional situations. Even if they start to repeat themselves because they become conventional.
But let's talk a little bit of Fuerteventura, the island peaceful.

So, first of all forget the beach in the Mediterranean way. Here the water is cold and as soon as we enter the passes you want to cool off. Then there is always a wind of the Madonna.

The scenery is beautiful: the desert, goats, hills more or less sacred, complex six thousand beds with courses in construction. Not much to do. The ideal is for surfers, with or without wind, but it would be better for the average tourist who knew where it goes.

I like, but I miss the cultural aspect. It is not clear where we are. Spain? Latin America? Africa? Germany? London? Dunno ... you see here is just fine mass tourism: a slimy, gelatinous thing that slides on the places where it goes, it creates creeks, channels and erodes the landscape, without ever really fit in the heart of local culture. Skip, takes and consumes some items, and then goes away.
Corralejo, Tuesday, June 11, 2002
Ok, it is clear that I do not feel like writing. It 's been another month with nothing.
I did not do nothing but work in the hotel and my business side. Stories to tell in fact there would be, but who knows, you will not feel the road. It is shortly to Bali, Asia for who knows how many months, I will write here.

El Cotillo, Fuerteventura, Canary Islands, Spain, Eurafrica, Friday, March 15, 2002
I would hate to be left open because Morocco 'bad start but I swear it, and' one of the most 'beautiful little town by myself, as they say, has had the pleasure of laying my butt on cups of processes in different countries, when There are cups, because 'in Morocco, for example, works differently, but it' better not to investigate or nobody shake me 'more' hands.
Since we got where we wanted to get, is' just fine and Morocco now belongs to the past, do not want to be there to make you the whole story, we think the photos. I'll tell you 'just that we were in Chefchauen, spectacular, and Fez, beautiful, and that the Moroccans are not bad, rather they are good, and they are not aggressive, even humble, and that seeing them in their environment helped me to clear the 'image that we have in Italy, where immigrants and join them in not very pleasant things, like the ones that we did when they migrated. Sometimes there is pain in the ass', of course, as everywhere else, and them ', to be honest, the pain in the ass they are so particular, but Oh well', you know the trick all runs smoothly.
A special memory of Fatima, the little girl of ten who wanted to accompany us in the Medina of Fez and earn some money without success. His constant smile and sweet, not imposed his presence, his elegant gray dress that looked like a little woman than ever before in his career ... there 'need to travel in Muslim countries, there is' a wall that is rising . Ok, I close. Go and see also the photos of Paul who has a machine better than mine even though my indisputable photographic art.

Now we are in the kingdom of the wind where we have already 'found an apartment at 420 euros a month, the surf beach a few yards and landscapes from Arizona. We listen to Janet Joplin that adds a little 'in America who does not know what to do (quoting Baptists).
Like almost exactly two years ago in Australia, my belly trembled 'cause he knows he is' to disappear because of surfing. Then I run ', and this time? We hope.
Tomorrow haircut and then looking for a job ("fatigue" in Abruzzo).