The simplicity of life

Translation courtesy of  Dakota Bloom

 

Mozambique is probably, one of the countries of the world to which I had most longed to reach. I dreamed of a green country, exuberant, of long straits of uninhabited idyllic beaches along its extensive coastline on the south of the Indian Ocean. In regards to the human aspect, I didn’t have a very defined image of how would its people be and I could only try to get an idea associating it to the people I’ve already known of the rest of Africa. However, it didn’t take me long to realize that the Mozambican would be completely different, in the most positive off all aspects (in the most positive aspects), to the rest of the Africans that I knew until now.

The garden of Africa

 

Translation courtesy of María Urruti

After spending weeks in the bush, arriving in Zimbabwe brings a great welcoming break to the monotony. However, I didn’t really know what to expect of this country, so famous for the immortal Robert Mugabe, it’s omnipotent president that, from time to time, makes it to the news after carrying out a new whim of his to be able to stay stuck in power, even with his lucid 94 years old and after 35 of controlling the country as he pleases. Normally, I don’t arrive to a country with so little references but, in this particular case that I couldn’t get my head around to investigate, I decided to surprise myself; and sometimes it's good to do this.

And here goes the third.......

 It's the third time in my life that arrive in India and the second by bicycle. 13 years ago, I was arriving for the first time and at 22 years old, I was barely a kid carrying a backpack with little experience in comparison to the present. I already knew back then, during the first few days and after having gone through the first big shock that one experiences in a first visit to India, that I would come back over and over in the course of my life. Today, 13 years later, I still have the same feeling I got in that first trip, that of carrying India very deep inside me. As years pass by and I get older, I feel that India keeps growing inside me and with me with every trip. India is a planet in itself and it is quite true the fact that either you love it or you hate, because no matter where you are in India, you may like it or not, but one thing is sure, you can't be indifferent to it. I certainly love it with devotion, it's like a magnet that doesn't allow me to detach from it. Now, that in this third opportunity we've had the enormous fortune of experiencing India from the inside, through a local family that has pretty much adopted us during our stay, and later with the visit of my own mother, to whom I haven't hesitated in showing her the corners of the country where few tourists make it, I have nothing but confirmed once again that very same original feeling from the first trip: I will never stop coming back to India.

From relief to boredom

I won't deny the fact that despite its great beauty, I felt relief when leaving Guizhou贵州. Afterall, it had been a very demanding physical beginning and that's the very reason why the body suffered more than usual and found difficulty in situations that had they happened at any other more advanced stage of a long trip would probably be a lot less strenuous. The province that followed, Guangxi, brought the relief that I had been yearning for during those last days of infinite climbs. However, those easier, flatter and more trafficked roads wouldn't take long to bring boredom.

Right after going into the new province the change happened almost immediately. There were no more climbs. I was now heading south-east following the very same winding green rivers that I had met days ago with the exception that now, the road was almost always flat. I kept riding through a continuum of Miao苗族and Dong 侗族villages, but unlike Guizhou 贵州, here these were found along the shores of the rivers instead of being scattered around intricate canyons of dramatically steep terraced mountains. In every village I could see men crossing villagers in rafts made of bamboo, the very same bamboo rafts being used from centuries ago. In between so much sophistication and development it is wonderful to see these traditional means of transportation still surviving.

 As soon as the roads became easier I was able to start compesating for the distances that I hadn't been able to cycle during the previous 12 days. Now everything was easy and days went by faster and faster. I went from an average of 75km a day to more than 120km in less time and at a fraction of the tiredness by the end of the day. And the best of all was that the knee pain had now completely gone away. One of the greatest things about cycling in this northern part of the province was to cycle accross the citric plantations, where for 40km everything around me was mandarin and orange plantations. There were sellers in improvised stalls sitting by the road every few dozen meters, they sold them at a ridiculously cheap price. It was harvest time and the fruits were incredibly sweet and juicy. There are very few things as pleasant as hydrating with juicy fruits. One day I almost exclusively hydrated myself eating mandarins, 3kg and oranges, 1kg. Fantastic!

Up and down, up and down, up up up..... the endless and exhausting ride across Guizhou 贵州.

It was the mix between an enormous enthusiasm, the excitement of being riding around the world again, the strong need to get to see the “new” stuff, the anxiousness to get to Guangzhou 广州, lying 2300km (1430miles) ahead, on time for Christmas to meet my “co-pilot”, what left me limping by the 5^th day. All this “excess of enthusiasm” hit my knees extremely hard. I had cycled more than 15.000km (9400miles) in the last four years, but due to the more ephemeral nature of those journeys, no matter how hard they had been, especially the ones across Tibet, I had been able to carry less weight. Now, I was already carrying what is typical for any long-hauler. I left home with little over 60kg(135pounds), a moderate weight to start, especially considering the awful weight of my photography gear and related equipment. This weight would allow me to get fit and ready for the times when carrying food and winter clothes would possibly increase it up to 80kg (180pounds) However, at pace of more than a 100km (63mi) a day along roads that were becoming increasingly difficult, it was more than my knees could take in such a short period of time. Needless to say, I couldn't think of a worse scenario, since I was just crossing into Guizhou province 贵州省.

Guizhou 贵州 is officially the poorest province of China but also, proportionally, one of the less visited by both Chinese and foreigners. That is possibly the reason why in my mind it was so enigmatic and because of this, I deliberately traced my route all across it. I entered Guizhou贵州 from its westernmost tip, crossing the river Chishui赤水, reaching the town bearing the same name. I had got to it following a secondary and already very mountainous road of Sichuan province 四川 and at that time I really wasn't able to imagine what lied ahead. I had done my homework and of course I knew it was a mountainous province, what I didn't know yet was that for the next 1000km (620mi) approximately, there were not going to be more than a 100 consecutive meters (300ft) of flat road. Guizhou 贵州 has the geography of a different planet.

As soon as I left Chishui 赤水, cutting across a thick bamboo forest, the changes were immediate. On the way to Xishui 习水, in towns and villages, traffic became noticeably more chaotic, pollution increased, buildings were more precarious, with facades with no finishes or finished half-way. There was no aesthetic appeal of any kind, constructions were not even picturesque, but this is the case in all China anyway. On the other hand, landscape became greener and wilder. The climbs started from the very beginning. The soil became red and I could see very long and thin waterfalls falling for dozens of meters from high up above, filtering through thick forests and bare rock cliffs. After a while, the forest gave way to deep canyons following winding emerald green rivers. From these, I would start climbing up until the ridge from where I would see a new valley, each with its own extra planetary topography. Every climb would bring a new way down to a new valley and the slopes were unforgiving to my knees. With every step I took on the pedal I felt like a sharp iron bar piercing through my knee caps. Sometimes the pain was so bad that I couldn't concentrate on the beauty around me any more. Music, which is usually soothing, helped sometimes but It would still hurt when the punishing slopes became very steep. A series of intricate rice terraces started to dominate the landscape among mountains that seemed to accommodate themselves in the most whimisical way.

 It did not take long for me to realize that when looking straight at the horizon, there wasn't one, because nothing was placed at the same level. Crossing Guizhou贵州felt like being trapped in this massive 3D maze in which movement never occurs in one direction but in all of them, and it sometimes take only a handful of meters to switch from one to the other. Days were almost perpetually grey and the fog was low and thick when I saw, across the river I was cycling along, a fantastic village of traditional houses.

Sichuan 四川. Leaving home.

  No matter how big the enthusiasm within is and no matter how many times one has gone through this process, leaving the place where you settled down for a fair amount of time, is never easy. The comfort of a place called home, the friendships that one has sowed at work, in the neighbourhood, in life in general, the habits and customs; every single one of those little every day life things, they are all hard to leave behind. It's this subtle mix of emotions between the huge excitement of the adventure to come and the sadness that comes with a new detachment from the people and things that were part of one's life.

The night before the day I took off I was incredibly nervous and it was almost impossible to sleep. Caught between the practical decisions that needed to be taken, like packing in the most efficient way and the myriad of emotions involved in being at the verge of taking such a big step in life almost the whole night passed by in no time. It was at 5.30am that I was finally able to lie down. It wasn't really sleeping but more likely a very light rest. It didn't take long for the alarm to ring at 8am. It was time to take a shower and shave for the last time in who knows how many days, have some coffee and take a few minutes of silence to look around home and contemplate to give the heart a last look at that small world I had built in the last few years of my life in China. The time to leave had come once again, to leave not in the sense of abandonment and forget but to leave carrying with oneself all those things that one has gone through in life, the friends, the experiences, the affection that one has harvested with time and love throughout time. Leaving ain't about leaving behind but to keep going with so much more inside, so much more. Some of the best friends that have accompanied me almost from the very first days I was in town were waiting for me downstairs. They gave me warm smiles for the road and encouraging words for the trip I was about to embark on.

A lesson in empathy

During the last three years I have cycled again and again along different regions of the Tibetan plateau and no matter how tough the conditions might have been, there is something about this massive piece of land elevated at 17.000ft that doesn't cease to captivate me and attracts me like a magnet from which I cannot detach myself.

The rigorousness of its geography coupled with the extreme harshness of its weather constantly pose physical, but mainly mental, challenges, where one has no other option than getting over them to keep moving forward. It is when one is facing these adverse conditions when our own limitations come up. These limitations force a necessary encounter with oneself, in which all psychological mettle is put to test, and the success of the journey will depend on how we deal with each of these tough situations that arise. Added to this, the infinite beauty of its landscapes, the mysticism of its colors, its lights and shadows, and the mystery created by the vast horizon are the series of daily events that stimulate the senses and charge the body with energy. However, it is the altruism and compassion of the Tibetan people that embraces the heart and becomes the daily teaching about life. Every encounter, every moment shared with them, are what give this place its added value and makes it magical. It is on the Tibetan plateau, where trip after trip, I personally feel an emotional intensity generated by a mixture of physical sensations and mental states, emotional and spiritual, what profoundly connects me to this place.

 This is of course subjective, as when traveling (as in life itself), it is sometimes very difficult to explain why we feel more intrinsically connected to a group of people than to another. Although I could get very close to a rational explanation for this, I think there are factors that go beyond rationality. In my experience, Tibetans are the most compassionate people I have come across in this world, and the ones who have the greatest ability to selflessly open their heart to another person, even when that person might be a total stranger. This is simply because they can see themselves reflected in that other human being and they can recognize that within that person, there is someone that in essence is identical to what is inside them. This penetrates both consciously and unconsciously through the use of gestures, attitudes and empathy and it is in this very last word where to me lies the key to understand what differentiates them from the rest of the people, because it is in this bond generated by it what makes one feel their human touch.

Empathy, however, must have two sides, that of the one who generates it to later transmit it, and that of the one who is willing to receive it. That is why, sometimes the perception of one with respect to the people of the places one visits varies drastically according to who one is and the conditions one is in at a determined place and time. Still, Tibetans often have the enormous ability to bend the bad mood and bad energy that one brings with oneself and purify them to turn them into gentle feelings, such is the power that has the way they are. This empathy not only invites to transform one's energies but it is also contagious, it is planted in ourselves, thus it becomes reciprocal.

While Buddhism of the Vajrayana tradition, which primarily promotes the practice of altruism and compassion, and how thoroughly Tibetans practice it surely has a critical influence on how their characters were shaped over the centuries, I do not think that it is the decisive factor that differentiates them from the rest.  Rather a combination of spiritual and geographical and historical factors is likely to be the main reason that makes them who they are. It is because of the result of this mixture that I can feel their magic, connect and feel truly blessed and benefited by it.

To the eyes of someone coming from our highly overrated, so-called advanced society, where it seems that a mere handful of technological advances are direct synonymous of progress and the only way to go in order to evolve, Tibetans might look primitive, almost prehistoric, because their customs and living conditions are simply basic. But it is in that simplicity, in that life devoid of superfluous objects, where values like love, hospitality and altruism not only prevail but continue to thrive. When there are no objects to which chain our lives and souls in perpetual dependency, priorities continue to be our contact and relationship with our fellow human beings and the preservation of them.

 Their future, however, is uncertain. Cultural genocide still goes on. New generations are brought up under different conditions, and little by little, they absorb the habits and idiosyncrasies of a culture that it is alien to them. One that has been and still is being implanted by force. Their environment is transformed everyday and there is not even the slightest glow on the horizon that might indicate that the control of their destiny will ever be returned to them. Nevertheless, they keep facing adversity with stoicism and above all without losing that great compassionate spirit they carry within, the very one that allows them to preserve their ability to smile, to help, to be able to see in the others the same intrinsic qualities that they carry inside, thus owing themselves to the preservation of this bond.

That is the lesson of Tibet, its people and its landscapes. They get inside oneself and they grow and stay to transform us. Traveling along these rough roads makes me stronger physically and mentally, but above all, it makes me more humane. It brings back perspective. It helps me to bring the focus of attention back to the really important things in life, to appreciate the core values that connect us between humans. Those values that are far from the illusion of happiness promoted by our society based on consumerism till exhaustion to which one is dragged into every day to keep surviving, that which separates us, alienates us and ultimately makes us fight each other. With Tibetans, I learn that what it is needed to keep the heart joyful and alive is essentially very little, but most importantly, available to all of us without exception. We just have to want it and pursue it, make it the goal of our lives. It really does not take much.