JUST KEEP LOOKING

Where no sin is a sin

throughthelookingglass — Wed, 28 May 2014 12:30:00 GMT

I'm not such an experienced world traveler, and if you knew every detail of my first and only trip to Europe... you would know. One: No credit card, just cash. So much for the extra cheap airplane tickets! Two: No idea where I was going. Though that is part of the magic - not knowing where you will end up - a little planification doesn't hurt anybody, just to manage your time and money. Specially when you have less than a $1.500 euros for month and a half. In cash. Well I was only 20...

I ended up knowing only three cities: Barcelona, Paris, and Amsterdam. A cousin lived in Barcelona, and as everyone else I loved it, and stayed there for almost 20 days, and actually came back five days before my departure. I won't go deep in here, this is a completely different story.

I won't go too deep on Paris either. A couple of things though: It's, of course, one of the most beautiful cities I've been. And despite what everyone says down here (South America) french were actually extremely nice to me. Also, I must say, I kind of fell for a lebanese... and I slept in a bus station, sitting on the floor holding on to my backpack as I could. Because yes, I went to Amsterdam by bus.

There is a saying in Chile, that EVERYWHERE you go you will instantly meet another chilean. So true! First night in Paris, shared room of course, and in the bed right under me... chilean. On the station in Paris, leaving my bags down in the bus... two chileans. It was a couple that was backpacking through Europe as their honeymoon. Much better than a sandy beach I guess! So I immediately talked to them, and of course we became instant best friends. He told me he had lived in Amsterdam, so he could point out some places to stay (I was completely clueless, no reservation, ever).

We arrived at 7am to Central Station. They invited me for a coup of tea at the hostel they were staying, and he gave me some tips on where to stay. And then... off you go. Walking through the streets of Amsterdam by myself, freezing but eager to find a bed and an adventure... So I turned in a street, and all of a sudden it was like I was inside a bong. It wasn't even 9am and every coffee shop was already open. The smell in the air was beautiful! I'm not a marihuana fan, but in my country it is SO illegal and tabu, that being here surrounded by it seemed to me a proof that a better democracy actually exists. Where there is no one forcing you to smoke, but the government takes care of providing their citizens with a choice. Also with the sex shops: In Chile, they are all hidden in dark small galleries. And if you are a woman, be careful to be seen (Though a couple of years ago a sex shop for girls opened, yay!). Another small point for democracy. And the transvestites holding hands, and the mushrooms, and the prostitutes, and the live-sex theatres... I know it's become a tourist thing, not a real thing, but still it all exists, and for me, coming from the so called third world, where even abortion is illegal, and divorce was legalized only a couple of years ago, and the catholic church controls pretty much everything - though powers were supposed to be segregated many years ago - seeing all this, packed up in Warmoestraat and other tiny streets, was overwhelming, but in a good way. In a great way, actually. Seeing everyone have the choice to do what in my country is unthinkable, made me feel happy realizing that it is possible. But also sad knowing we are so far away from accomplishing it...

But what I definetely loved the most - we must not leave anyone apart - was that, just half a block where the coffe shops started in one of the red districts, there was this tiny but proud store of religious artifacts. The lady was probably constantly living in shock, but she was there, and she dealt with it. An she accepted it. And the crazy person standing in top of a chair outside Central Station, yelling and praying for Jesus, just blocks away from the prostitues. And nobody said a thing. Not because you are a pothead you are going to hate the ones who don't. Not because you are a religious person you are going to hate the ones who are not. Ok, maybe you will, but you learn to live with it, because there is a government behind that says "ok, you want to try and convince someone to be catholic? Go. You want to eat a space cake? Go. You want to pay for sex? Go. Is all this good? Not necessarily, but it is your choice, not ours".

Well, I have plenty of stories about this city. And of Paris. And of Barcelona. Including asking for money in the subway (which I had to, and I'm not proud), eating mushrooms under the rain with an icelandic (which I later had to take care of; try not to mix mushrooms and marihuana and beer), and a drunk old man giving me all the bad directions in Paris at 2am, while looking for a place to stay... But I just wanted to share with you this. It may be just an outsider opinion - I assume it is quite different living there - but it's what I got from the city. Every sin, every tabu that I have here at home, is a right there. It's a choice. It's your choice.

Photos: South Africa 2010

throughthelookingglass — Tue, 27 May 2014 00:36:00 GMT

Soccer Worldcup pause... Safari at Kruger Park

BEHIND YELLOW EYES

throughthelookingglass — Thu, 15 May 2014 10:07:18 GMT

I've seen lions many times. In many zoos I'm not all that proud to have visited, in countless pictures and documentaries. But when I saw him in that dry riverbed, at sunset in the Kruger Park, it was as if I had never seen one before.
Our driver had turned the engine off. Other safari guides had told him by radio that there was a lioness in the area. He told us to stay extremely silent, and that we should wait for the male: "He will come any time now. He must be looking for his lady."

So we waited. Five minutes or so, and we heard a gentle roar flowing in the air. Suddenly, the bushes right beside the jeep started to move, just a couple of meters from us. Everything went silent. And just like that, he was there.
It may be exaggerated, but the adrenaline was definitely flowing. We had no protection, and this enormous wild cat was pacing two meters away from me. TWO. His mouth was half open. His mane covered almost his entire body, not at all as Simba and his perfect hair. This boy had a mane that went all the way back to his... back. His head was tremendous; his paws were as big as dishes; he was huge, and fat, and muscled; definitely well fed.
This is the part when I realized I had never really seen a lion before: In an abrupt but subtle movement, he turned his head towards us. He stared at us. I perfectly sensed him looking straight into my eyes. I could see every detail in his face: His nose was filled with little flies; his whiskers were abundant and long; he had ridiculously small ears; his eyes were round and yellow, and despite being quite small, they gave a penetrating look, that made it impossible to look away.
I couldn't even sallow. It seemed to me he was evaluating us, deciding whether to hunt us or not. He kept staring while walking past the car, and then he turned his head again, continuing in his search. All this probably lasted less than a minute, but it felt like a good half an hour. When we lost sight of him, there was a deathly silence inside the car. We looked at each other with our mouths open; my hands were sweaty and shaking. It was pretty intense.

All I can say now, is that the king of the jungle has his name well earned. He is a majestic creature, the most impressive cat of all. And although I first thought he saw us like preys, I quickly realized he wasn't: He was humble enough to greet us, to welcome us to his land, properly looking straight into his guest's eyes. Definitely the most fearless, most kind king I'll ever meet.