If I had known that the day would end the way it did, I would have started more slowly. We started way too early for my brain, so we walked in the dark for about an hour and a half. The day began with a fire, and we weren’t sure if it was under control or not. As the morning was nearing its end and I had only just had my first coffee, the path steepened into a hill full of endless twists. That morning, we were joined by many cyclists, and it’s smart to walk on the edge of the road because otherwise, you’re risking your life, especially if you have headphones on. I think I lost about 10 years off my life due to them. Cyclists whizz by, and they can really scare you. Along the way, we also encountered a father with four children. That climb was tough for hikers, let alone for cyclists. As we started climbing, the youngest child, who was probably around six years old, couldn’t make it up the hill, and neither could the father. In fact, no one could, so they had to push their bikes uphill. The father had double the work, as he was pushing his son's bike with one hand.
That day, I was walking with Lucca from Sardinia, a mischievous guy who can play the guitar and has a great sense of humour. We too were dying on the hill, but we just looked at each other and grabbed a bike each and pushed them to the top. At some point, I regretted it because my back started hurting due to the small size of the bike, and I had to bend down so much. My head was spinning from the effort and the heat, but I made it. At the top of the hill, we joked about riding the bikes down for some adrenaline. We left the bikes at the top and continued on foot. Our plan was to walk 39 kilometres. The first part was beautiful, with sunflower fields accompanying us, but the second part was soul-crushing. Monotonous landscape, no shade. When I was about a kilometre away from the destination, Marco messaged to say that the hostel we were heading to was closed and that the next one was six kilometres away. Great news for my already fried brain from the heat. What now, go back two kilometres to the first hostel, or go forward seven? We all know which way the fool goes—forward. If I had known what awaited me, I would have turned back. The last four kilometres were through a dusty road in the middle of nowhere. There was no one around, and I was all alone on the path. I was surrounded by a leafy forest, but it didn’t help much. I don’t know why, but at one point, I turned around. It would have been better if I hadn’t, because then I started imagining a movie in my head about rape and murder. In the distance, I saw a car with its lights off, slowly approaching me. Five minutes earlier, I had tried to cool off by imagining I was in Antarctica, fishing and somehow falling into icy water. But now, for the next 15 minutes, I was thinking about how I would get out of this situation if the man in the car tried to attack and kill me. I started looking for a bigger stone to use as a weapon. Of course, there was none, not even a stick, though a twig would be effective as a scarecrow in a field. Then I tried to remember my karate lessons, but considering I only got as far as the first stripe, I could forget about becoming a ninja. "What if there’s more than one in the car? Fuck my life!" I thought. I could say I had AIDS or pretend I had escaped from an asylum and start screaming uncontrollably while making strange body movements. People fear that. By the time the car was close, I could only cross myself and pray that maybe I’d just be raped and not killed. When the car finally passed me, I saw that it was a woman driving. A huge weight lifted off my heart, and I congratulated myself for the wonderful brain explosion I’d had. It was the moment I decided I would never watch crime series again. The woman was just looking for her two dogs, which is why she was driving so slowly. I started laughing, took out my phone, and used Google Translate to explain what had been running through my mind. She smiled and offered me a ride wherever I was going, but I of course declined again.
When I finally arrived at the hostel, which looked like something out of a western movie, a kind woman from Algeria welcomed me. She wanted to show me around, but I couldn’t bring myself to look around yet. I told her I couldn’t, I needed to get myself together because my brain had taken off into the stratosphere and needed to slowly come back to Earth. She brought me a beer, and we started chatting. She lit a cigarette, and I quickly smelled that it wasn’t just any cigarette, but one where hashish was accompanying the tobacco. She asked me if I smoked, and I told her only on vacation. She made the rest of my day better and even gave me some for the road.
Later, in the shower, we realised we had walked half of the entire journey that day, and the fiesta began again. Lucca played the guitar, and then we were entertained by music from my portable speaker. Laughter, once again, filled the air.
