one more night

one of the most comical things i have ever wittnessed: an american girl smashed in between a near-tears Catelonian boy, his face burried in her neck and strange Catelonian curses popping out between bumps in the road, and a similarly attatched French girl, also near tears and also holding on for her life while the Brazilian driver steers as close to the edge of the road, and the respective cliff, as he can and flies around the corners in the highest gear possible, laughing all the while and reminding me of a cowboy having a good go at the rodeo. me; my head (and most of my upper torso) is out the window trying to get a better view of the valley below. the valley a few hundred feet below. and it's not hard, let me tell you, the "road" being barely wide enough for the truck. we stopped at one point because andreu had to pee. but when he got out, he said it wouldn't work because he was too nervous. oh, but it was beautiful. the mountais we were heading for had a bit of snow on the peaks and the valley villiages we were flying above were green and filled with palm trees. it took us almost four hours to get to where we were staying four hours of cliff-hugging dirt roads no wider than the trucck. i'm not sure what we would have done if we would have needed to pass someone.

the villiage in which we spent the night was possibly the most beautiul place on earth. this little valley with a stream running through it, everything was green except for the trees which were just turning bright orange. there were little stone fences all over the place with men working in the feilds and women doing wash in the stream. the valley came to a point at the foot of a huge, snow-capped mountain built out of red rock. there was one winding path up the middle of it all, just wide enough for the occasional donkey. it reminded my of a Hobbit villiage. so yes, it felt like home.

we stayed the night in this amazing old house with a wrinkled old man who laughed alot and wore a blue jellaba (sort of like a traveling cloak. they look like something a jedi would wear. naturally i've purchased my own. oh, and what a nerd i am having now used both star wars and lord of the rings to reference real-life.) his house had low ceilings, wooden rafters, and looked as if it were just carved out of a large rock. the stairs were winding and steep and the rooms were lit by candle and lantern (there being no electricity) with the floors covered in great rugs and pillows. we slept right above the donkey, ate above the sheep and stepped over the chikens and their chicks everywhere we walked. the middle was open to the sky. at night the stars once again put on a brilliant show, there being no ground-light to interfere, and they twinkled; i mean they litteraly almost blinked in and out of existence. i stood there alone in the middle of the night, staring up through the courtyard for quiet a while, completely transfixed. i was alone in the universe. just the stars and i.

the next day we hiked up the valley to the foot of the great mountain. it (the valley) came to a sharp end between the lesser mountains, but there were a small, green, almost terraced pastures zig-zagging further up the slopes where herds of sheep were out for the day. on the left was a small watterfall that fed the stream running into the valley below. and sweeping doown at us from the snow and rocks was an amazingly strong wind. so i climbed up a small side of the mountain and down into one of the green pastures where the wind was at it's strongest and just stood there. here and there a random goat would stroll by, and maybe a donkey or two. but mostly, it was me and the wind. and that mountain. i could have died there. in fact, if i do die before finding a more beautiful slice of earth, bury me there. bury me with the wind and rocks and snow and grass and goats. and again and always, the silence. whether in the desert or on top of a mountain the silence is what really stands out. no humming electricity. no passing cars. no screaming people. nothing but the wind.

coming back down i stuck my head in the waterfall an almost froze to death. but it was refreshing. i was so sad to leave that valley and that laughing old man. but it was entertaining watching andreu and sophie almost wet themselves with fear and imagining that somehow holding onto helen would save them from death if we were to jump the cliff. but i rode the whole way back with my head in the wind, wishing i could fly. and if i could, i'd fly right back to that little valley. away from all this mess and fuss that is "real" life; back to where i can see God. back to where i don't need to see Him because i can feel Him, in everything. but especially in the wind. and the ever-profound silence. oh how i love that silence.