I drove to Germany for Christmas. On the ferry I somehow smuggled both Djinga and the van to Europe. Smuggling the other direction could have got a bit sketchy these days... This dog does get me into situations. She just never pays and always gets away with it. She usually does it in the pub but this time she gave the ferry a go with no ticket. Just hiding behind my seat as the ticket guy had a quick look into the car from his booth. And the van? Just got through as a regular passenger car. Eventually it was only me paying the regular price. So, in the presence of these two smooth operators, next time you may want to think twice before calling me cheeky.
As we got into the Netherlands, this little red light in the dashboard grinned at me: "Your generator's f**ked bro hihihi". I could just resist to yell at it. Which would have been okay actually bearing in mind that I repaired this thing twice already. At least it felt like I did. Since I could not get it fixed straight away, I opted to drive during daytime only and recharge the battery over night whenever possible.
Days are short in December, though. Really short. Too short to cover more than those 700 km ahead of me with this van all across Germany. To save the energy of my only half full battery (the charger had switched off over night) for as long as possible, on the motorway I tried hiding in the dark behind a truck with only the parking lights on. The traffic from behind would not see any difference (same bulbs) and usually on a motorway there's no oncoming traffic. 'Good thinking' I thought with a smirk that expressed that feeling of having the edge over this little red lightbulb now. It actually worked alright.
Also two days later, when we drove another 400 km and only started off after sunset, getting somewhat comfortable with this stategy. One might also call it a bit slack. But to be fair, we turned the lights on when we got into this thick fog. They lasted just until we arrived at our destination. Just here means that they were less than dim and the indicator didn't do the familiar 'click-clack-click-clack' anymore but only a single, halfhearted 'gligg'.
Now here's a little poem to start the new year with. It's not my own but from a wise person called Cavafy:
“As you set out for Ithaka
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope the voyage is a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.”
It was this picture that a very good friend of mine had drawn into my imagination: warm weather and big clean waves reeling along a right-hand point break with only two people out. This is how the south of Morocco became my Ithaka. This was where I wanted to go and this is what made me set out. I looked at my bank account and it looked back at me saying "no you won't" without any sign of sorriness. But by all means, who listens to a bank account.
We (Djinga and I) are on our way south now. Wednesday I left Holland not without taking all the good memories of these amazing Surfani-days there with me. And some smoked Mackerel of course. In only one day we already passed Belgium (haha) and entered France, arriving in a lovely town called Addeville. It was just after 9 pm as we wandered through the streets and one could literally see and hear the window blinds being shut on every other flat. The only people we met where two guys with a beer each asking me to light their cigarette. We had a bit of a chat - quite an acrobatic one beacause I don't actually speak any French. Neither does Djinga.
Yesterday we drove all the way through Normandy. Sunshine mixed up with full-on hailstorms. It felt like we left good old Father Frost behind us now that we got further and further south. The nights are still frosty, though. I'm wrapped in my sleepingbag and under the duvet. Djinga snuggles up on a cosy blanket. When we're driving in the sun, the temperature inside the cabin goes up to 30 °C! We are in the South of France now. The McDonald's where I'm using the web got invaded by 15- to 25-year-olds as if someone had set up one of these anonymous facebook-parties.
The weather charts look promising! A large high pressure system over the continent with sunshine and light winds that turn even off-shore in the next days, whereas west of Ireland there goes a storm berserk which is meant to be the first January hurricane in the last 60 years. Looks like we might find some pearls on our way to Ithaka.