The 28th Anniversary of the International Malted Wild Tiger

28 years ago an 8 months Mexican baby was struggling between life and death as an abnormal heart beating manifested and required an urgent and immediate extraction procedure to live. A soul that wanted to get out right away, that couldn’t take it anymore and just wanted freedom without giving a fuck about any consequences. A bold and unbeatable essence that remains up today. Causing high levels of stress and breaking the ladies heart with a charming smile since 1989.

28 years. Fuck mate. Where has all this time gone?! 2 years ago I was in Mexico celebrating getting accepted into the program I’m about to finish now and having a relationship proposal of the ex-significant other (miss you “J”), last year I was enjoying my favorite whisky with a bastard who has become one of my best comrades in lovely Sweden. Cheers bro “M”. Today I am in Greece writing code for my thesis, drinking wine and eating cake and looking at my bracelet present from the current and lovely flat mates. You bloody rock “K” and “D”! 10 years ago I was completely excited to obtain my officially grown up ID known as IFE in the home land. That magical piece of plastic that would open the gates to every adult entertainment media and liquids. The evidence of being a young adult, with 17 facial hairs ready to conquer the world, study a career and think that 10 years later I would be the manager in a nice job, have a family, a lovely wife, a Porsche, the pets, the money, be part of the system and say a happy good bye. Mate it sounded so good back then LOL.

Isn’t it just bizarre and amazing how the years can just blow your mind and take you to paths you literally never thought you would be walking in? Thinking: – how the fuck did I think of that?- And smile about it!?

Well chiquillas y chiquillos, for those of you who know me you could tell how cocky egocentric piece of jerk scumbag I am or can be. But when it comes to my birthday, for me it is a day where I actually sit down and evaluate everything that has happened during this year. How?. Why?. Why not?. A day where I judge, assess and analyze in a cold way the overall performance of myself with no excuses. So…to be fair? there are not enough words to fucking thank life for everything that I received during this year. I had very very BLOODY FUCKING terrible and dark moments yes. Instants where I literally thought I was entirely broken, sunk in darkness and thought I was not going to be able to stand up and keep walking. Several winks where shit, they felt like a K.O. just one after another and another and another. A year well I truly put myself to test, where I just had to force myself to go beyond any limit I though I had, academically, physically, mentally, internally.

This is where the cocky part plays the game because to be honest? karma paid off to this lucky bastard and among some stuff, I was able to be present in my brother’s wedding, I passed the most difficult and annoying test I’ve ever written, I managed to stay in this program until the end, I’ve learned so much engineering shit, I’ve eaten incredible and exotic food, traveled with my another brother, received the unique chance of traveling around the world and seen the most incredible stars of the planet, walked through ancient wanders of the world, met absolutely amazing people from all over the world…but to be honest? I’ve learned…to truly connect with my planet and with my people. One day someone from Moldavia (“O”) told me just after 20 minutes of knowing each other: -I think success is not how much money you have, how many girls you’ve slept with, not even how many countries you’ve visited…yes, self love is vital but I also think it is about how people feel when they’re around you…if they’re happy and smiling because of you? Maybe you’re doing a good job! :)- I was speechless, I just couldn’t say any word. And no, it is not that I’m saying that everybody around me feels aroused by all the stupid funny random bullshit I use to say everyday or that I’m trying to achieve that; it is not that I know plenty of people or anything stupid like it; it is the fact that life is giving me the chance of truly connecting with people, of truly leaving a mark and make an actual difference, and that maybe just maybe it might be working.

But is it then always happiness and optimism and positive mentality and fucking fat cats and fat unicorns with cute pandas flying in my mind? Unfortunately or fortunately not.

Academically speaking? This last year I’ve been in a situation where after being either number 1 or at least top 3? I was just not even close to be in first half. Studying things I first saw as glyphs, dealing with engineering shit I literally thought I would never deal with. I felt like a piece of useless junk unable to solve anything. Failed tests. Incapable of finding the correct or even the enough motivation to study and advance as I thought I knew surrounded by totally brilliant people who knew (or seemed like) how to deal with this shit. People who became close to me and told me at certain points: -you can quit if you want, but you’d be a complete stupid if you do that because you have the brain and the guts to complete this. No excuses- A summer internship where I learned so much and got so frustrated with no significant results because of stupid reasons and thought again it was my lack of competence. A change to an entirely new country, new system, new rules, new people. A year full of changes, of challenges, of obstacles, of fire rings. And hell a year where I was lucky enough to have the correct people around me, to open my eyes in vital moments and was able to overcome most of those intense instants. But thesis is here, so this has just started.

Emotionally speaking? What a fucking roller coaster. My biggest dream of traveling around the world achieved? Come on, I sometimes still find it difficult to believe it until I see the pictures of the countries I’ve been to already. I’m lucky to have met complete strangers that changed completely my way of thinking and my way of living my life in a matter of minutes. People who I think made me a better human being. 21 new countries in my list. Probably around 100 cities if I put all my life together. Festivals including Foo Fighters and Tomorrowland. Wanders of the world and many many many flying hours. No complains at all on the adventurous and wild side.

But what about love? It still really amazes me how this chemical reaction in the brain can cause such powerful belief and make you go crazy. But it seems like a curse you know? Every single time I seem to find some peace ka-FUCKING-boom, something ridiculous and unfortunate happens that it just ends it. Sex is not the issue, I’m someone who stopped counting after 15. But love love like actual love is still something quite not well understood for me or at least either I’m too stupid and naive or it seems I still haven’t managed to know how to react to love these days. I’ve been the bad boy, the good boy, the rockstar, the nerd. Today I’m just fucking myself and I don’t give a shit on anything else, I’m authentic, smart and smiley as it can gets. But it is still apparently not enough. From not being capable to go for the ones who like me and appreciate me because I’m simply too stupid, to falling for exactly those who have a sign on their foreheads that say: “trouble”, “I don’t like short men”, “I’m in a relationship”, “I really like you but I won’t do it cuz I don’t know why”. And shit like that. A year where I got my ego somewhat fissured when a significant-crush denied to travel around the world because #fucklogics.

A year where love knocked the door. I’ve had the chance of hanging out and finish up in mutual amusement with incredibly attractive and very interesting girls. Specially one with whom I madly and unexpectedly fell in love with in fucking matter of some weeks because #yolo. I guess what they say about “when it happens, happens” is true. In my naive and obnoxious defense my core felt as I finally found someone with whom I could talk and laugh with random shit until 4 am, talk about smart engineering; someone who expressed her wishes of conquering the world, of going out, of accomplishing dreams and who seemed as crazy and ambitious as myself in similar ways. Someone with whom at the beginning everything looked just like a bad timing situation but in the end it was as real as my lack of beard, but apparently not as strong as I thought, and finished up sunk with me rejected in alcohol and tears for several days without being able to understand the universe. I should have read the signs like the ones aforementioned, but life is like that. Somedays you’re flying and some others you’re crawling. But no failure, no regret at all, it’s another stripe to the tiger. Only a big lesson learned, a drawer for the good moments lived and a new procedure for heart healing preparing it for the next, hopefully not, catastrophe. And to you who wished happiness and success? No need, but I’m truly grateful with you for making me feel such strong and marvelous thing. I keep my position of yourself being as one of the most incredible aspects of my life. I truly hope one day you let yourself understand that no matter how, or why, even when life is entirely weird? My eyes were real, your eyes were real.

For disclosure, this has probably been the most fluctuating year of my entire life, with emotional stuff being the Oscar award winner. And I bloody love it’s like that. It’s intense, it’s unpredictable, it’s crazy. During the last month I have met an insane amount of people from all over the globe. Interesting, insane and some might even as bold as me or more. These 28 years start and promise to be even a greater year than the previous one and I can’t just bloody wait for it.

I am more grateful than ever with my life, literally there are no words to thank enough, other than waking up everyday, look up to the sky, no matter if it’s a sad day, a happy day, an angry day, a bright day, a dark day. It’s for something good and it will always get better; it’s a matter of wanting freedom, of living the present, of wanting to live and not giving a fuck about consequences (sometimes at least) just like 28 years ago. I might be an annoying complainer of emotional things who forgives but who never forgets. Working on that. I could also be an eternal dreamer, a wanderer, a crazy mother fucker living it up. I wish life give me more years to continue living that way.

So to all the magical and far away places that welcomed me with arms wide open, to every fucking equation, simulation, exam and project and specially to literally all the people who went through my life this year who support me and who stand my annoying and obnoxious being. To the new friends, new family members and to the yet to be discovered corners of the world; to the amazing momondo team!; to life and to the universe:

Gracias, gracias por todo, gracias por tanto, gracias por esto.

Wanna conquer the world? Follow me, let’s do it together.

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The Royal and Brave Portuguese Rooster

Oh amiguitas y amiguitos, what a bizarre and intense 2017 has been. And it is only March LOL. But back to middle February since it is when I did this trip, this pre-info. gave me most of the meaning of everything I felt during my days in Portugal, so buckle up, let us go back for some weeks in time and put our caps of “Fuck you February” on ok? 🙂

What the bloody hell universe?

The last week of January and first two of February were all about school, final assignments and final projects. I usually don’t complain about school because it’s stuff that needs to be done and the only way to finish the pain is by actually getting the shit done, period. The problem started when I realized that I might have done a miss-calculation as my 1 week time frame was simply not going to be enough to complete all my assignments when I had it planned. I took deep breathes, drank industrial amounts of coffee and just kept going with a 1-2 daily basis sleep hours, 7 work hrs. per 1 break hr. shifts and it was actually working! but in the end, the stress levels combined with a deplorable emotional state made my mind and body collapse and my defenses were the same as an albino baby ready to conquer bloody hell’s gates with a baby pacifier; i.e. I fell into a terribly sick semi pneuomonia “my lungs were dying” state. Fever, shivers, only two powerful pills in my stack plus some paracetamol and the good old Vic Vaporub. Chugged all the pills, drank insane amounts of tea, ate oranges and grapefruits like never in my life and kept working. It was Thursday, 1 more day remaining and managed to have only 1 last assignment for delivery. Slept that night with my bloodstream transformed into a flux of camomille+ginger+honey and rubbed the Vics all over my nose, my chest, my feet, my bloody anus, basically everywhere. And shit it worked. I was making a good progress but then I noticed I required a more powerful operative system in my laptop to perform some simulations on time and it was simply impossible to finish it before the flight to Portugal on Saturday. PLUS that Friday was the last night I had to spend with my previous awesome international ex-roomies, two strangers that became like family and about whom I shall talk about in another occasion. You know I miss you both bromigos!

So having overcome the worse of the sickness, I managed to get an extension of the professor, had a lovely dinner that night with friends, greek tavern on point and then just when I thought my emotions were feeling at their peak, everything crumbled down. It was a situation that today I reckon is mostly my fault for not being able to foresee things properly, that today I feel calmed and working on my daily peace, but back then, my mind thinking I was an incompetent for not finishing work on time combined with a heart telling me:-you like her so fucking much that you’re gonna fuck everything up. Like always.- and a soul unable to really process all the information that was being recorded…it was a rough night to be honest. But as I was back in my bed, barely able to breathe with a cracked heart, all I knew was that I just needed to get out of there and hop in the plane, I just needed peace urgently.

After some ancient testament size emotional “Viber” messages were sent, fever again and saying good bye to the international shack members, I landed in Rome for a 12 hrs. lay over. -WHA YU DU DISSSS!!??- I asked to the universe. -AHH shut up and open your eyes you whiny bitch!- the universe responded, as suddenly I found myself drinking a “+7 Anti cold” healthy juice and sited in front of the “Fontana di Trevi”. Perfection goddammit. The Coliseum was next and people I still can feel the goose bumps when I write these words as strong as I saw and entered the Coliseum for the 2nd. time of my life and shit, I swear I could hear the people roaring again. Not a coincidence. I still can feel the energy, the glory, the adrenaline and the strength given by victory. Feelings that made me truly smile after a long time and I said to me: -VAMOS CABRĂ“N-. I had a delicious Italian lasagna for dinner and was ready to get my flight to Lisbon at 7 am the next day.

Lisbon, Portugal. What a bloody cool city. To be fair I had absolutely zero idea of how Portugal was going to be. I had of course my own knowledge of the country but I did not pre-research as I usually do before any trip, did not know where to go, basically was in fucking blank because I just had no time to do it! So I decided to embrace everything the city wanted to offer me. Bold as always and wise as…sometimes. Best call ever. I first through the city taking the musical magical bus tour, passed through cool sight seeings and spots of Lisbon, both in the modern and the ancient zones. Lisbon has like a zillion amount of museums; the museum of the tiles, the museum of oceans, the museum of cars, the museum of museums. The city is divided by the Tajo river crossed by the bridge “25 de Avril”. It is like the cool younger brother of the Golden Gate bridge in SF. The music, “Fado”, the folk and typical music of Portugal so filled with emotions that it makes you want to cry. Barrio Alto is the zone that hosts most of the night life and the start spot to go up hill and spend the afternoon with wine, some food and enjoy the view of the city.

Have you heard of the typical cliches of romantic places like Paris, Venice, Milan, Rome, a log cabin to make amazing hot nasty rough sex love aside the fire as the Aurora Borealis is in the sky? Well, despite the not yet accomplished sexual fantasy, I was lucky to be in all the aforementioned places, even some more and well fuck all that. Portugal my dear chiquitines is (for me) the most romantic country I’ve been so far. For real. One of the spots I wish you can visit one day to confirm my theory is called “Sintra”, a magical town 40 min. away from Lisbon in regional train, host of ancient castles, royal family palaces and houses related with witchcraft and secret sects. Everything is green, with stone paths, a smell like rain and point views that will take your breathe away. A spot of the planet that again, at least for me, made me think of one day taking that special lady whom I would love and would love me for the rest of my life and share all the feelings I’m describing. Or maybe just my cat. Probably will be just my cat.

I had the chance of visiting a very good friend of mine from Japan who was living in Lisbon due to master studies similar to mine. “T”-kun took me around many groovy spots of the city, had some Portuguese alcoholic beverages in a fancy market, had some wine in the top of one of the hills and had actually a great time talking about school, love, future, alcohol, life. I know I’ve said this a lot in the past but is always crazy how you can connect with people from literally the other side of the world, with spiky hair and slanted eyes. Great one “T”-kun!.

The next day I was ready to take the train to the northern side of the country and off I was to Porto. Did I say how cool was Lisbon? Never mind. Pack your things, stop whatever you’re doing and go to Porto. Seriously. Despite being a bit chilly and rainy, it just made it equally beautiful city. The “Manuelino” architecture, old castle walls, medieval churches, rivers, a bridge design by Mr. Eiffel himself and the absolute and magnificent Oporto wine.

But first things first. My mom’s surname is Pereira and there are records that this surname came from my great grandpa which was either Spaniard or Portuguese and to whom I actually owe my first name. The village is veeeery tiny and peaceful, stone streets with barely a central church, farms, vineyards, a graveyard and some sort of small mountains and green fields surrounding everything.

This trip contained also like a business bonus feature. I had the amazing opportunity of first being contacted by the #momondo PR team in Portugal because there is a Portuguese cultural magazine called “Fugas” that heard first of the competition and second that the Mexican lad who won has Portuguese blood running through his veins. So basically they kidnapped me for one day, a fucking brilliant day where they made me an interview regarding the contest, how did I win (still no clue), what did I say, what did I thought when I knew the price and of course what was my opinion and knowledge about Portugal? what was my favorite spot so far? and the main reason that took me to Portugal, why did I want to go to a village in the middle of nowhere called “Pereira”? Despite being in Portuguese, you can check the interview here if you want:

http://fugas.publico.pt/Viagens/370175_manuel-veio-a-portugal-confirmar-que-toda-a-gente-pertence-a-todo-o-mundo?pagina=-1

They also took me to eat typical Portuguese food in a town called “Barcelos” which was close to Pereira, ate duck rice, octopus, cod fish, delicious wine, among others. I also got a Portuguese rooster as a gift from the restaurant. Wanna know the story? Just google it, quite cool! Then the crew took me to the village of Pereira to actually see and explore the place. I mean how fucking cool is that? who does that!? And then back to Oporto. But the most amazing experience was when we were in a local cafe in Pereira, were talking to a kind old sir and we asked if there were any old reminiscences of what Pereira was and he mentioned a castle in ruins, the “Castelo de Faria”, that supposedly belonged to the royal family of Pereira in the very old times. Off we went to the castle on the top of one hill and man…everything was covered in green, all the stones, all the paths, all the trees. It was like taken out of a Narnia and a Game of Thrones and wild Harry Potter scene. My first feeling was:-I’m on a fucking fairy tale, everything’s so green, uhhh look at that big stone, LET’S JUMP ON IT-. I basically felt like a little kid, running and jumping around every tree and stone I saw. The people of Fugas and Momondo were just laughing and saying that I truly looked just happy, that it was incredibly contagious. Like, just imagine if you could talk to the trees or stones of such ancient place? what would they say? or what would they not say? better said. On this day, at that moment, everything I mentioned in the beginning of this post just went at warp speed through my mind, that and even more stuff. An internal emotional wave that made me cry as I was just listening to the wind just because I had to cry, a thing that I very rarely do. I felt as if the place was telling me -you’re gonna be alright, be brave, be bold, be yourself-. You see I’m a guy who in times of crisis believes on whatever signal life gives. I’m a true follower of the signals, every detail that the universe is telling us and there was an instant when I truly knew what I was doing right and wrong in my life and most important what I needed to do to work and overcome that which I thought was wrong. Too bad it was only an instant since I kinda fucked it up some weeks after that (LOL) or well…did I? It was just an absolutely brilliant experience. Thanks #Fugas and #Momondo !!! I will never forget it.

As a cultural data, Portugal was founded by many families with significant resources, among those, the Pereira family. The proof is in the castle of Sintra where on the ceiling you can observe all the royal families coat shields that founded the country. Wikipedia also cooperates with this. So know you know ladies: you looking for a man who is single, handsome and descendent of a royal wealthy family founder of a country? *winks with cool sound.

The last days I spent in Porto I basically explored and walked as much as I could. The Duoro river, divided by the bridge “Luis I” as said designed by Mr. Eiffel, the library which J.K. Rowling got inspiration from, the Majestic coffee, a 40 year old Oporto wine that was the closest thing of love I’ve ever felt, the “Riberinha” area, got lost in the magical and narrow streets, ate a magical thing called “Francesinha”, listened to more Fado music and saw some other good friends I made during my year in Sweden. I even saw a cat in a leash. It was an authentique jackpot if you ask me.

 

Portugal was special because of many things. It is directly related with my mom’s bloodline, it is a special place for “J”, it is the holder of probably the most delicious wine I’ve had so far, a country with great and friendly people, with delicious food, with music that touches your heart, and specially it is spot that literally took tears and fears out of my eyes; it created a tremendous emotional earthquake in my core that reminded me that to be in love is a game where we meet people who makes us evolve on specific times of our lives, in every sense and in every way. A place that reminded me that nothing is meant to last, NOTHING in this life, and that it is exactly that fact, which makes life beautiful and provides unforgettable memories, just like the Castelo de Faria did to a young and wild mexican lad. It is exactly that fact, the reason we should listen to our minds but obey our hearts and be bold, be free, be brave, be fearless, be fucking happy.

Obrigado querida Portugal!!!!!

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The Arabic Bedouin Ancient Caravan

Jordan. Middle East and Arabic territory. The ancient and mythical lost city of Petra awaits and I couldn’t keep it together, I just felt bloody thrilled about it. But of course no magic happens before going through an uncomfortable 24 hrs. experience that contained delayed flights, running and tackling people at Dubai’s airport, technical aircraft faults on the 2nd plane and my stupid face being enchanted by a beautiful blonde Russian Matryoshka. At 10:00 am I landed on the capital city of Jordan, Amman.

I had no sleep, was not able to shave the 31 hairs my face is capable to grow and I was starving. Arrived to the migration part of the airport, paid the 40 JOD entrance visa fee and my mind was just ready to go to the hostel, eat and sleep until the next morning…

W-R-O-N-G.

As I gave my passport to the officer, he started asking the typical questions but stared at me in a peculiar and odd way. -Sir, please go back there and sit down, we will keep your passport- he said as he would talk in Arabic on his radio. -Is there something wrong?- I asked. No response. I actually thought that maybe they have to check for criminal records on their system or something, but I was too tired to argue and ask so I obediently went to sit down and waited. A new officer and a translator arrived to the scene, called me and took me a bit apart from the entrance queue. He started basically to ask the same routine questions but now with a more intense look towards me. -Mexican? Why were you in Africa? then Dubai? and then here? And why are you alone? What is your business? Do you know someone here?- he asked, as I cheerfully responded: -Just holidays sir! I’m a student and just came to visit Petra- whereas his eyes would scan every single movement I was doing. He asked about my luggage which was on the delivery platform and he said the bag had to be scanned. But of course. We passed the official entrance to the country, picked up my bag and as the bag was going through the scanner he said -What’s all these?- pointing to all the flag patches I have in my bag. -Ahhh ye! I just like traveling very much sir (happy face)-. Nothing obvious revealed on the scanner, he asked me to open the bag and he found two plastic bags of a mysterious kind of powder. -AHAAA! IS THIS THE COCA?!, where’s the coca??- to what I immediately bursted in laughing and said: -no no sir, that’s sand of the Sahara and from Zanzibar, I have no drugs-. He saw the sand and then he said: -don’t lie to me, are you sure you have no drugs?? “Cero” drogas?? No coca!!!??-, -AHAHAHAHAHAHHA- I responded. He started to become really pissed as other officers were approaching the scene and talking in Arabic; Mexico was the only word I could catch. But despite all the intense efforts of the Jordanian airport security force and of course putting aside my obvious badass Mexican international drug lord face, the officers did not find any evidence of narcotics, gave me back my passport and let me go. It’s grand you know? He was doing his job and did it good; except maybe for the tiny fact that just for being Mexican he assumed I would be packed with drugs as the “Chapo” style. Classic pun. #mexicanproblemas

As soon as my stomach was full and my head touched the bed, at 15:45 I was already dead and slept for 17 hrs.

The next day, since the bus to Petra was totally full, I spent the day walking around downtown, exploring the ancient city spots like the citadelle, visited some temples, museums, mosques and of course tasted the local cuisine. I must reckon that hummus should be named as humanity patrimonial. Just saying. Just so fucking tasty. Amman is a complete and expanded 3 million people capital city. Modern/fancy and ancient areas, cars horning, black tea and mint tea, date fruits, shishas and Arabas selling everything at the market. Also quite a lot of security checkpoints with massive trucks and a heavy machine gun handled by an officer. It was a good day I must say.

So there was I, waking up at 4:57 am, courtesy of “D”, an individual responsible of the latter and last emotional tsunami that went through my core (story for another time), and was up and ready at 5:30 am so I could take the bus at 6:30 am to Petra. Takes around 4 hrs. to get there from Amman and it’s the only available schedule, which is actually quite good if you want to visit the place for a day and come back to the capital. I was not n a rush so I decided to spend the night there. The city is small and it is composed by an area of hotels, food locals and a modern bedouin village where the locals live and work.

Ladies and gentlemen, Petra, one of the seven wanders of the world. One of the “most see” places of this planet. Holder of secrets founded by the Nabateans. After I set everything up in the hotel, I was just ready to walk all day and discover all this magical land could provide me. As a cultural data, tourism is the main income of the country with Petra of course being the main attraction above anything. It is indeed not cheap to go in, it costs 50 JOD to go for a day, 55 JOD to pay for a two day visit and then up for different situations. Also, Petra used to be in the old days (around 100-500 D.C.) one of the main cities for commerce, so everybody passed through this place. As said, the site is filled with bedouins who sell souvenirs, tea, food, shishas, camel, horse and donkey rides, scarfs and turbans among others. Some of them are actually quite “annoying” as they follow you for like 80 m. trying to convince you to buy a bracelet or something; in the end, it’s the job and they gotta sell to eat, I do get that. Anyway, as I went into the site, I felt I was entering Mars. I thought the Sahara was actually red-ish but hell, this area was just sooo Martian! For a moment I felt I was in a chapter of the book of John Carter. The first part you can appreciate some monuments done by the Nabateans, which are kind of tombs in form of squared monolites (is that actually how you spell that?) called “Jinns”. It’s quite impressive. It is possible to start seeing a kind of water channels used to distribute water (dah) in the old days, until you get to the Siq canyon. The almost 80 m stone walls above the head combined with the sun beams created a smile cheek to cheek in my face. Everything was getting more red and the stones and walls had this peculiar mineral line colors.

Bedouins, Asians, Russians, Americans, some latins too. People from all over the world including their selfie sticks and big ass Canons walking through these ancient magnificence. The canyon takes about 2km or around that, until at some point, the pass becomes a bit narrow, barely sun goes in, but far away at the end of the path, it is possible to appreciate some huge red-ish carved pillars and some camels walking around. “The treasury” amiguitas y amiguitos. Shit. Fucking staggering. I had no words, just wide opened eyes and an impressed face by the almost 40 m carved  monument. As many cultures passed in more than 1000 years throughout this place, the site has arabic, persic, greek, roman influences. It’s unbelievable how such radical mixture just works. Hundreds of people taking pictures and riding camels, so I just took maybe 10 min. to appreciate the place and kept walking, I wanted to go to the furthest point of the site which is called “The Monastery”, it is also the highest point where Israel can be appreciated while having a delicious cup of bedouin tea, and it is also like a 3.5 km walk with a quarter of it going just up.

I felt like a huge ignorant as I thought that Petra was going to be only the Treasury and the Monastery but hell, the city is huge! and it is claimed that is not yet fully discovered. If today it looks magnificent, I cannot imagine how it was in the glory days. Royal tombs, a roman theatre, carved houses within the mountains, a royal palace, an orthodox church, more tombs, more sacred temples, a straight path with columns on the sides, ancient entrance doors. I also felt as I was just bloody part of an “Assassin’s Creed” game or something. I felt proud to actually wear the turban I got in Morocco. It was hot but quite windy, so it actually helped to protect the face and all the locals were wearing theirs. Some even talked to me in Arabic and said -you look like a modern bedouin!. -Yala yala!- I responded laughing.

After climbing up the path, sweating like crazy and regret smoking for the last couple of months, I reached the monastery, which to be fair might not be as pretty as the Treasury in terms of architecture, but it is in fact more impressive since it is bigger and it is older and with a lot more of historical background. I sat down, had a nice glass of juice and smoked a shisha. You might think I am crazy but as I was walking across the city, I could actually imagined the old caravans going and carrying exotic spices, fabriques, stones, weapons, animals; the locals buying the merchandise, the royal guards protecting the city. For a moment I felt I was crazy, so I decided to keep walking and go to the highest point and enjoy my tea as I could observe the amazing view. I even found a cute cat that was playing with a butterfly, played with me and then back to the butterfly. I cannot explain it, despite being in such an old piece of the world, I felt just great, I felt welcomed, I felt as if the land was saying “just enjoy mate!”

I spent the 2nd day basically walking through the further temples, churches and tombs of the site. Of course spent like 30 min. just watching “The Treasury”. Something I really liked is that there is some sort of “freedom” to walk almost wherever you want. So as I was climbing one of the mountains, I first found this amazing spot on the top where there is a bedouin tent and you can see “The Treasury” right from the top, in piece, having tea. Absolutely wobbling. I kept walking, kept climbing and then found two bedouins that were smoking shisha and drinking tea as their goats were having lunch. -Hey tourist! come! drink tea!- they said to me. I was quite thirsty and thought ye well! one cup would not hurt, so I went and asked how much was for a cup as one of them said: -No, no, no. We don’t want your money. Money don’t make friends. Please join us and enjoy if you want- to what I was just shocked, it was a totally unexpected answer. So I smiled, sat down and talked with these guys for like an hour. Solomen and Ibrahim were their names. They shared some of their seeds and taught me how to opened them with the teeth and eat them. -You have a sincere smile my friend- said Ibrahim, -there aren’t many people like you these days, you are a good man-. This is a moment where I was more than convinced that it doesn’t matter what religion you believe in, what skin color you have, what clothes you wear, how much money you have; it doesn’t matter if you’ve been to jail, if you’ve been to church every sunday, if you’ve had a shot once with David Bowie or if you’re a pal of the pope. It was not that what Ibrahim said fed my ego and made me think “ah ye, I’m great I know”, hell no. It was the fact that he opened himself to a 27 year old lad he barely knew and shared his beliefs, his food, his beverages and his thoughts. He taught me a lesson that I will never forget in my life. No matter who you are, we all have the same blood color and we ALL are capable of uniting and of sharing what we have, even if it is a total stranger.

During the next day I came back to Amman, had for the last time an original, delicious and industrial size plate of hummus, had a good amount of sleep, met an interesting person who drove me to the airport and shared some of his crazy young sailor stories, Greece included in the visited spots and took the flight back home. I’m pretty sure you know that feeling where you actually feel more tired after holidays than before? This time I felt recharged, fully fucking motivated and recharged. I couldn’t believe how in 3 weeks my mind was able to see so much, to feel so much, to give and to share.

As I saw from the plane the famous dead sea, I couldn’t stop thinking how bloody lucky and grateful I am for being able of living this type of journey. Call me a cheesy, romantic, annoying and naive bastard, I don’t care, but every place I go I find something different that connects me in such a way…I can’t explain it. I’m not bragging about it, I’m not showing off how many cities, places, countries I’ve been to and I will go to; as said, it doesn’t matter who you are, what you do, where you’ve been, I am just trying to unite and to share who I am with you.

Thank you so much Jordan. I am more than certain that 4 days were just not enough, I do hope one day in my life I can go back to explore and discover more of your magical corners. I promise I’ll shave and dress nice clothes next time so you don’t think I’m trying to be a Mexican contraband drug lord. Thank you for showing me one of the brightest sides of life, I promise too I’ll do my best to share that side wherever I go.

Next stop, home…for a little while.

Vámonos!