How could I have chosen such a hard name? It’s not catchy, simple and I cannot even pronounce it properly. I also got red numbers when checking the check-list suggestions for good blog names (Must describe your blog in few words, no; use target keywords with high search volume, huh?; make sure it is readable, easy to pronounce …) Was I dooming the blog to the dead-blog-cemetery just because of its title? (oh look, I got this one right, make it original :)) So to justify my choice, I inaugurate the Story section with the following:
– “Uy, uy, uy! That was the exit.”
– (with beaming little black eyes) “Where?”
– (blushing) We just passed it …
– “Arrrgghhh! ______ (add here your favorite colorful spanish insults). Where is the next one?”
– “Uuuuuuy, no. Twenty kilometers ahead, we go into the city and return…”
No use blaming the map. Everything was written, bold and clear. So, come on, you’re stuck inside the car, your only responsibility being reading the map, in broad daylight, on a straight autobahn with nothing but green fields around you. How did I get so distracted? Well, the thing is that ever since my first climbing road trip I’ve had two traditions. The first one has always been the road trip music choice. We’ve always had a couple of carefully chosen CDs to suit our mood. So if night was falling and a snaking path was coming soon, the pilot would say:
“Bobby, ponte al Mago“
And always I sing along. Oh yeah, when left alone or among old friends I love to sing loud and clear. Of course, this makes the trip much safer (Imagine, what pilot would sleep to the sound of: uooooo, uooo, uoooooo…. sweeeet child of miiiiiinnne). Anyway, that day I wasn’t singing. In fact I could not understand a word of this song. Very strange when it was a CD having mostly spanish songs. Huh? Emiliano Zapata? I know that name!
– “Play it again, play it again! It’s catchy but I can’t understand a word about it.”
– “Ah! That’s from a catalan group about Emiliano Zapata. It’s very, very nice. Listen carefully.”
… and after ten more rounds of playing, going back and simultaneous translation what remained was:
La terra es la mare, el moment és ara, el lloc es aquí (earth is our mother, the moment is now, the place is here)
Maybe a cliché, but it was as simple as that. Something inside clicked and I thought that now my place is here, Saxony. No escape from it, so I might as well explore it and share it with others. All thanks to Don Emiliano Zapata (and for those musically inclined, to Lax ‘n’ Busto, now one of my favorite catalan groups). And there I was in deep and meaningful thoughts when the exit appeared. Because the second road trip tradition has always been to miss at least an exit and get hopelessly lost. And that’s also an interesting story that goes back to when…
– “Arghhh!! ______ (again add some more very colorful spanish phrases). ROBERTO! Please focus and tell me where is that exit!”
– “Uy! Aquí, aquí, aquí!”
What are your favorite songs for all those climbing road trips?
El lloc es aqui 