T
he customs officer asked me about the power of my bike, year
of manufacture and the value of the bike. Around here, to ask the
value of things seems like it is a constant custom. Sometimes I tell
them the lowest price I can think of, not to give the impression that
I am a Millionaire, which is absurd, because although I would tell
them half the price of what it costs, it still represents an exorbitant
amount for most of the people here. Other times, I declare an absurd
value, like a million dollars. The result in both cases is always the
same: misunderstanding and astonished faces. But this time I
declared the exact price to the official. He paused for a moment
between keyboard clicks.
- Why?
- Why what? - I inquired
- Why have you chosen this way of traveling: alone, dangerous,
difficult? You could come here by plane!
I always knew how to answer that type of question. Not so much to
others, but to myself. I had it clear in my mind, the reason behind
what I did, also why I was doing what I was doing and how. It may
seem quite a stupid activity to expose myself to danger and to the
ensured discomfort that always comes with this type of travel,
especially when nobody forces me to do it. I remember that I titled
“Manual of an idiot adventurer” my first conference about my travel
experience on motorcycle. The reason behind that title had not so
much to do with the fact that I consider myself a complete disaster
planning and organizing my own adventures, rather that I knew from
the first moment that only well-fed Westerners pay to get into
struggles.
I knew that my work was just another consequence of the
comfortable society in which many of us live. A society from where
we flee so we can return back to the struggle of living. I knew that I
needed to feel the cold in order to enjoy the heat, to be hungry in
order to be delighted by a dry crust of bread at the end of a hard
day, to be thirsty so I could recognize the sweet taste of drinking
water. I needed to test myself, to overcome my obstacles and share
the process with others, to write about it.
-I do it because it's worth it- I replied-. I came here meter by meter,
rock by rock, to take possession of the cities of the Silk Road. As I
enter each of those cities, I will make them mine and I will feel
comrade of the Spanish explorer for whom I made this journey.