La parte de la reina y sus cuatro lions

Esta historia no se escribe en flamenco. Primero, se trata de cuatro lions y todo el mundo sé que lions no entienden flamenco. Segundo, flamenco es un baile :)
En honor de los lions quería escribirla en español, pero en este caso un montón de gente que también quieren saber lo que pasa en mi vida no van a entender nada de nada. Aunque no me gusta mucho, me parece que el inglés servira para todos. No te preocupes si no entendes todo... no es una historia de lo que hay que entender cada palabra; no es una historia que sale bien en algun idioma... es una historia que se siente... Y te juro, la siento muy fuerte.

I left my readers on the bus from Iguazu to Tucuman. San Miguel de Tucuman, capital of the Tucuman province is famous for its Casa Historica where, in 1816, Argentina's independence was declared. Apart from that, it has a beautiful plaza with impressive buildings and cathedrals. But I wasn't really looking for the fuzz and buzz of a big city. Tucuman was only the starting point for my trip through small culturally rich villages in mountains and valleys, slowly proceeding to the border with Bolivia. The idea had ocurred to me earlier: I wanted to appreciate the region's landscapes and villages in freedom by renting a car, without being bound to the fixed schedules and routes of buses. In the hostel, I met a few people who might be interested in joining me: Cono, a 31year old Italian doctor who should already be doing voluntary work in Cochabamba (Bolivia) but who loves Argentina so much that he hasn't left the country yet... and Maximo, porteño (meaning from BsAs), 21years old and a real mochilero going round by hitchhiking and on his way to visit Bolivia. Great, this goes well, i thought, the three of us going north and - at least till the border - following the same road. One downside, neither of them had a driver's license, leaving me the only driver on difficult gravel roads ascending mountains and descending into valleys. I decided to keep on looking for people and spread the word by leaving leaflets in a few hostels. One guy from Spain responded but after a few hours, it turned out we both had different plans. It didn't seem to easy after all... and when I returned to the hostel Cono and Maximo had decided to leave the next day, leaving the city buy bus, but hitchhiking afterwards. I decided to give it one more day and if nobody responded, i would go with them. That evening we sat together in the hostel, meeting Seba(stian): porteño and medico también and Dani(ela): porteña... Both traveling north towards Salta and Jujuy as well. And in the pouring rain, two other porteños Jorge and Javi(er) arrived, soaking wet and happy to be inside. I left the 'fellowship' around 1o'clock, tired and not used to the BsAs rithm anymore: only to learn the next day that the evening had turned into the night and into the day again when the last two fellows (Cono and Jorge) finally went to sleep, experiencing real difficulties to actually reach the top bunk bed ;)

When nobody responded my search for people to rent a car with, I arrived back in the hostel at 5pm and decided to go with the chicos, taking the bus at 8pm. I was cooking what I had left of vegetables, not realizing that that would be my last really healthy meal for a long time; when suddenly another chico left the bathroom and looked back twice... No! this wasn't possible: Arnaud, a french guy who I'd met on the bus from Rio Gallegos to El Calafate and afterwards a few times randomly in town and Ushuaia, had just arrived and was on his way north into Bolivia as well. We talked a bit and by the time I thought it was time to go: around 7pm cause the bus terminal was at least half an hour's walk, the guys had started to play pingpong. Impatiently I was urging them to pack their bags and hurry up. "Chicos, ya son las 7" but they didn't seem to pay attention to anything apart from the pingpong table and that tiny little white ball. At 7.40pm we finally stood outside the hostel with our backpacks when I was to find out that they had planned to take a cab all along... making fun of my impatience and urge to do things and move our asses... One of the first in a long row of jokes that would be repeated along the trip, exaggerated and hilariously spread onto anyone that would cross our path.

Arriving in Tafi del Valle, a beautifully set mountain village, Seba was already waiting for us, proving to be an excellent guide, leading us to a cheap campsite, where Cono watched how Maximo and I each pitched our tents. Watching and giving instructions, not having the slightest idea of how to do it... when suddenly two familiar faces turned up: Jorge and Javi, los 2 doorweekte chicos van de vorige avond. En, zoals Javi op zijn blog schrijft (zie www.discosrayados.com.ar), het was toen dat de magie begon, alhoewel we dat natuurlijk nog lang niet doorhadden. Met z'n allen trokken we naar het centrale pleintje, kochten brood, kaas, salami, wijn en bier en leerden elkaar een beetje beter kennen.
:) I suddenly realize I have switched to flamenco... well, I'll continue in English now. If you're really desperate to know what I wrote, apparently there's something like Google Translator that does a pretty good job.

I can tell you, we were a strange mix of different characters, and I wasn't sure yet whether I really fitted the group and whether I was going to keep on traveling with them.
Cono, for example, is way more extrovert than I am. He's an entertainer, always fooling and joking around, learning 'dirty' words in castellano, chupando vino, talking, yelling, singing, telling amazing stories about that night in Londra on Trafalgar Square with cuatro lions when Lady Di died... He always ends up in the middle of the attention and everybody loves him for his complete crazyness and lack of timidity. In short, he's a phenomenon and you shouldn't say he's a treinta y uno (tres bien :) ) year old doctor.
The other 3 chicos are all porteños but each of them different from the other. Maximo, 21years old, professional waiter and never leaving without his camera, was soon to be nicknamed 'el maximo boludo'. Always in for a fiesta and joking, he found his 'brother' in Cono, not only sharing the tent but also thoughts, jokes and a constant search for chicas hermosas relindas y muy buena ondas :)
Javi and Jorge, coming from the 100% cumbia camping, suddenly found themselves in a crazy group. With Javi - studying acountancy, and probably the most profoundly wondering and thinking about what life has got to offer - I talked about philosophy, la esencia de las cosas mismas, working and living in Belgium, travelling for one year, emotions, pensamientos... For sure, the 'deepest' conversations, without a joke or sarcastic/ironic remark remark every five minutes, were with Javi. I believe that we both could enjoy the tranquility of sitting on a rock or by the river without the need to talk, to joke, to entertain... just sit and listen to the quietness or restlessness inside, enjoying the emotions and thoughts that lead you through landscapes of mountain tops and valleys.

In this strange grupo I found myself... I found myself searching for a way to be myself... and it took me a while. But by the time I realized I really felt good, I really felt accepted for who I am, I was already inevitably bound by strong emotions to this group.
I haven't talked about Jorge... I believe we all owe him for bringing along the things that brought us more together: la guitarra (or was it Javi's?), la voz y la enseñanza de las canciones argentinas, de divididos entre otros...
The moments we all sat together, singing, playing and enjoying our time are countless... priceless and unforgettable. Sharing a bit of Jorge's passion for music, instruments and lyrics was as much as interesting and beautiful as it was confronting. I am constantly looking for what is driving me in life, what i want to live for, what I want to do, achieve and become... and then there are people that are motivated by and passionately drawn to this one certain particular thing in life. People knowing what they want, whether that is a 'traditional' life with a good job, a nice house with a garden and a beautiful family; or living on the edge hopping from one adventure to the other, meanwhile getting to know the whole world; or living for their music or art... have always tremendously fascinated me. It all seems so simple and easy when you know what you want, but I have learnt that knowing it, is still not the same as achieving or living it... I hope that passion keeps driving us in the right direction though. The day I find such a driving force, and the day that Jorge builds his first instrument... we'll toast to that. :)

This fellowship - not of the ring but of la reina isabelle y sus cuatro lions - continued together, from village to village. In Tafi we welcomed Daniela and all together we climbed the cerro de la cruz with amazing views over the valley. From Tafi it went to Amaicha, by hitchhiking, or lets say, by sticking our thumbs out for about 3 hours without any luck and finally taking the bus ;)
In Amaicha, as well as in Quilmes, with its pre-inca ruins, time has stood still. The people we met there are amazing: warm and friendly, and moreover fighting for their 'earth'. Most of them are descendants of indigenous tribes (eg. the Quilmes) and believe in the power of Pacha Mama (Mother Earth). The head of the town is no mayor but a Cacique, an ancient head of the tribe. Even though they follow Argentine law, they have their own governmental and juridical system. Each year, for the festival of Pacha Mama, where mother earth is celebrated and honored, many people gather around the plaza for fiesta and offers. The evening and night we passed all together in the house of Pacha Mala, one of Amaicha's inhabitants, was arguably one of the best of my whole trip. Cooking tortilla española and pasta, eating and then playing music and singing together observing rarities such as Cono washing dishes and Maximo singing Copla and offering Dani a serenade.... it was a beautiful evening, never to forget.
Such as many evenings to come... Sometimes we were 7 (with Seba and Dani who we usually met in the evening), sometimes we were 10 and a few times our group expanded up to 15 or 20... with music, wine, beer, experiences but especially 'buena onda' (no decent translation, but 'good vibrations' comes close) bringing us together... But always, we were five: la reina Isabelle (who kept standing in this men's men's world) and sus cuatro lions that looked after her (or was it the other way around? :)), cared for her, loved her, made her laugh... and so much more.

From Amaicha we took the bus to beautiful Cafayate. With its nice plaza, tasty wines from bodegas, cocktail bar s'tragos, red and white wine flavored ice cream, tasty empanadas, a red colored quebrada (mountain range) with incredible rock formations, old drunk musicians playing tango and traditional folk at 6.30am... it had everything to make us stay a few days... but for Jorge and Javi the holiday clock was ticking... with only a few days left before returning to the big city life working and studying. The night that we decided what to do and where to go to, from the 26th to the 27th of february, is marked in my memory... I call it 'la noche de la decision dificil' It was the first time we really had to sit and talk for a long while in order to come to a decision that fitted all. From Cafayate we could take the bus straight to Salta and spend our last days there. Or there was the tiny village of Cachi, that was supposed to be really beautiful, but only reachable by 'hacer dedo' (letterlijk te vertalen als 'duim doen') Not only the village but also the road that leads to it (ruta 40) and from there on to Salta are said to be incredible. Our third option was to stay in Cafayate for 2 more nights because on the 28th in the evening the famous 'Serenata', a fourday traditional music festival started.
Three options, five people. Cono wanted to stay for the big fiesta. Already famous for having stayed 15 days in BsAs without doing any sightseeing apart from 'nightseeing', it was impossible to leave a village the day before it would transform into a huge crazy cramped festivalground.
Javi and I wanted to see Cachi...giving more importance to the impressiveness and beauty of nature, then to a fiesta that usually amounts to drinking and singing and enjoying yourself but that you can do anywhere...
Maximo didn't really give his opinion and for a long time Jorge stayed undecided. Twisted between his love for music on the one hand and his knowledge of how amazing Cachi is on the other, he just couldn't make a decision. Finally, it was proposed that he and Cono would stay, Javi and me would go to Cachi and Maximo... Maximo was already sleeping.
But then... I suddenly realized that if that was the decision we would make, if that was what we were going to do... that it was our last evening together. Realizing that, the first thing I felt was resistance.. no, this was not right, this could not be... and I felt it strong... and I'm pretty sure we all felt it.
Cachi was at that moment of a lot less importance than the five of us - la reina y sus cuatro lions - staying together as long as possible. The thing was, I could do Cachi later on from Salta.. but Javi didn't, he didn't have the time...
Leaving us undecided for a while againm we woke up Maximo to ask his opinion...When the only thing he said, sticking his head out of his tent, was "Boludo, I don't want us to separate" the decision fell. I don't know how many hours it took us, but the sun was already sending his first light and warmth, when we finally decided to stay for the Serenata and leave for Salta at 5am on friday, from where Javi and Jorge would return to BsAs and Maxi, Cono and I would continue north.
It was an incredibly intense night, and everybody felt how strong and amazing our little group was. It was then that everybody felt 'la magia' of the group that made us forget about the plans each of us made, the places each of us wanted to see, and the time each of us had left. While I stumbled into my tent, I remember Jorge saying "Que fuerte" before sipping the last bit of whiskey. Que fuerte indeed; I had never felt that much 'at home' while being so far away and I had never felt that much 'myself' while being with people I met only a few days before. And nobody regretted the decision we took that night. We passed an incredible time together, waking up and having somebody saying you "buen dia" and going to sleep saying "hasta mañana" or "que duermes con los angeles" while in between we enjoyed every minute; hanging, joking, singing, playing, drinking, eating and talking around :)
Funny detail: we never made it to the Serenata - the reason why we stayed in the first place - having a few drinks in S'tragos bar on the plaza instead. But it didn't really matter to anyone: we didn't need the Serenata when we had each other :)

But soon... the fellowship was to split, not because of some evil enemy, but for the simple fact that holidays end at some point. We passed the busride from Cafayate to Salta at 5am sleeping, even though we had drunk our mate. Arriving in Salta, finding a bus to BsAs for the chicos, we knew the despedida was near... and even though tiredness blinded our minds, it didn't shade our emotions. At 16hrs, their bus was leaving and after a few hugs, and waving them goodbye... the remaining fellows sat down for a coffee...
Something was missing, someone was missing... two ones were missing. Two amazing lions: strong when needed, small and humble... no creen ser tan importante... pero serlo!
Gracias chicos, por compartir, por esta semana increible, que "es de verdad, la hemos pasado muy bien" :)

What happened after this remarkable day, after this breaking up of the fellowship... and how the leftbehind bravely continued their trip...
ES OTRA HISTORIA

chauoooooo :)

un beso y abrazo fuerte
los quiero y extraño muchisimo!

la reina
xx