Author Archives: jose

Hong Kong, China (香港,中國)

by jose

I remember how every single traveler I talked with was so eager to pronounce the word ‘family’ as soon as Christmas entered in the conversation. I am going home for Christmas! I am gonna see my girlfriend for Christmas! I will be so happy to be with my family for Christmas! Where will you be for Christmas? Oh, first Christmas away from home?

Seriously, what the hell. Is the first Christmas away from home a big celebration, a big step in life, like the first laundry your mum does not do for you, like the first lion you kill, like the first time you get caught by the police? Or is it something like a blasphemy, something forbidden by the gods themselves – or by the conventions, normality rules of the Western society?

Christmas is a day in the calendar, a day like all others, only this day, a few thousands years ago, someone special for the Christians was born – and now, alright, nowadays it has become a world-wide pretext to express love with your family, to gather, to celebrate together. Fair enough. That’s cool. Not a bad idea, after all.

But, for the love of all the gods from all the pantheons, stop acting like being away from home during Christmas is the saddest thing that can happen to a human. It might seem strange to you, but I am happy wherever this planet is in its revolutions around the Sun, I am happy at any possible place on Earth, and I am happy to see my family at any time of the year, even if it is not a celebration in a specific calendar. Oh, and I do not need an excuse from the calendar to offer gifts to people that I care about.

Because Christmas is just a day. Because my family does not magically change during a precise day. Nor does my relationship with them. And I am proud of it – and of them. I am proud that they are honest and constant, contrary to what the Western conventions seem to think about the society. About us.

And because of the fact that actually, the whole world is my home.

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Indian food

by jose

The best food is always the street food.
(Anthony Velasquez, as we were eating delicious street felafels in downtown Amman)

I took this truth into consideration and decided to give a try to the Indian street food – but only after a long, too long period of stomach preparation and conditioning. Too long because the street food is, always is, the best food you can find.

The period of adaptation to the local standards of hygiene was important, however; not absolutely necessary, but I had no intention of wasting time because of sickness. I hence in a first time always ate in restaurants, cheap compared to Western standards, but still expensive compared to the street food. Which explains why the majority of locals eat at the street stalls.

Another good reason to try it out: melting with locals. You know, speaking with your hands and eating stuff you do not even have the slightest idea of what it is.

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Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India

by jose

Everyone told me ‘You have to go to the Taj Mahal – it is the most beautiful building on Earth… It is perfection. You won’t believe it. You have to go.’ But I was like, you know, okay, I’ll give it a look while I’m in India.

And then I saw it… Like you saw it! And I couldn’t believe how beautiful it is. I still cannot believe it. It is perfection.
(Saskia, traveler)

I had seen pictures of the Taj Mahal too. I knew what it looked like. I knew it was a major monument of India. But nothing, no, nothing in this world could have prepared me to what I felt in front of it. No description, no picture, no poem or prose, no story can replace the direct, brutal and intense experience of seeing the Taj Mahal with your own eyes.

That was the third time my mind was blown away in India. When I saw the Taj Mahal. Every time I saw it, actually. Every time I found a new spot, a new point of view, a new angle, a new detail, outside, from a field, on the other side of the Yamuna river, from a rooftop restaurant, from the Agra Fort, or, even more, inside the Taj grounds, a few dozens of meters away or close enough to touch its milky-white marble walls.

And the monument in the first picture is not the Taj Mahal, no – actually it is just here to decorate and give balance to the Taj Mahal complex, even though it would be a major monument if it were standing alone in another city – but do not worry, you will have plenty of it in the following, to saturation. Even though no photograph will ever give you the same, powerful and timeless feeling that grasps anyone who sees it for real. No one will take your breath away every single time you look at it, as it does in reality. No one will make you fall on your knees, overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotions pulsing from the tomb.

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Udaipur, Rajasthan, India

by jose

General laugh in the bus. I turn to Sajjad (Qatar) and stare at him inquiringly. He calms down, catches his breath and finally translates.

She just said: ‘You’re young, why are you wearing shoes?’

Er well… I come from a country where kids wear shoes. Parents buy small shoes to their children – and they need new ones after every few months, obviously – so that their feet are always protected from the clean floor of the developed countries, and that they never are wounded, never feel the ground, never learn to get stronger. So that when they become adults, they still are unable to walk without that piece of equipment, even only on a flat ground, because they still have babies’ feet and soft skins.

Yeah, well, I have no idea why either, Isu.

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International Departures

by jose

Le métro sort en fusant du souterrain, filant tel un obus inarrêtable sur le pont quittant Hong Kong Island à travers la brume hivernale du petit matin. Je me lève, stabilise mon sac contre les sièges, et m’approche de la portière afin de pouvoir admirer, une dernière fois, cette baie que je commence à connaître par cœur. Dans mes écouteurs, Silversun Pickups – Laze Eye entre, avec une synchronisation si parfaite qu’elle en paraît cinématographique, dans un instrumental mélancolique, subtil, raffiné, tachant et électriquement dégoulinant. Cette baie, je l’ai vue tant de fois, en partant en randonnée sur Lantau Island, pour retrouver des gens à Tung Chung, mais aussi et surtout pour aller à l’aéroport.

Pour quitter Hong Kong. Une fois de plus.

Cette fois, je suis seul dans le métro. Seul avec mes écouteurs et mon sac, ceux qui me suivent dans mon voyage. J’observe silencieusement, submergé par le déploiement sonore quasi-furieux du morceau, le bitume humide et froid du port, les couleurs vibrantes mais assombries des conteneurs, les nuages qui semblent avoir descendu plus près du sol, comme pour me cacher à dessein la vide immensité du ciel.

Le train s’engouffre à nouveau sous terre, alors que la piste touche à sa fin en une accalmie apaisante. Je retourne m’asseoir sur le métal. Et essaye de fixer mes pensées, de retourner à la réalité. De ne pas me laisser me noyer dans les souvenirs.

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime
(Eminem – Lose Yourself)

Merry Christmas

by jose

You, regular follower; you, casual reader; you, random visitor; you, friend of mine, more than a friend, just an acquaintance or someone I don’t even know.

You, who doesn’t know what Internet means; you, starving in your village, forgotten by the “educated” world; you, sleeping on the sidewalk in a dark street of a megalopolis, despised by the rich “civilized” class; you, forced to manipulate a war weapon or to work with assault rifles pointed to your head, oppressed by fellow “humans”.

Merry Christmas to all of you, wherever you may be.


This world is wonderfully beautiful; it’s just so sad that some people aren’t.

Benaulim & Anjuna Beaches, Goa, India

by jose

— This is Friday Coffee?
— Yeah!
— By Mango?
— Yeah!
— Remixed by Paul Keeley?
— Are you a DJ too?

And then I realized. Yes, I really was in Anjuna Beach, this now worldwide-known trance scene (thanks to Above & Beyond and their label Anjunabeats) which used to be bustling with loads of illegal night-time trance parties. And yes, I was in Goa, this now worldwide-known province of India where the electronic genres of… goa and psytrance started, thanks to an incredible number of crazy Israeli tourists coming there to have a hell of a good time on those amazing beaches.

Obviously, they were not really the type of tourists you meet in resorts or five-star hotels. They were backpackers, with almost no money but an incredible energy and no need for comfort. I, too, thought I was one, but really, I think India still lowered my comfort standards. Good thing I went there, I guess.

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Mumbai, Maharashtra, India

by jose

The ultimately free man is the Wise man, but he’s lonely.
(Tristan Raoult)

Now that I think about it, India was my first real lone backpacking experience. Not that I was alone, no; I met a lot of people, friendly or unfriendly, travelers or locals, backpackers or foreign students, in hostels, restaurants, streets, buses or even train stations. But I was always traveling alone. My itinerary was only mine, and when I had to part from new friends, I did.

Maybe it was because of the short length of my stay (only three weeks; I will have to come back, and this time for a few months, eh) which forced me to rush to my destinations at all costs – missing my flight from Delhi was not an option, and staying for too long in one place neither – and made impossible for me to follow other travelers. I did my best to visit the most of India I physically and mentally could, having unfortunately to rest at some places because of my weak human condition.

And yes, I felt free. Not free like we, the Donkeys, were back on the highway in Jordan. I felt free because every morning, when I woke up, I could decide what I would do, where I would go, how to do it, without talking to anyone, without having to explain it to anybody, taking my own decisions based upon my own criteria. I could go to uncomfortable, dirty or even scary places without involving anyone else. I could try the risky Indian street food without being a burden to other people if I would get sick. I could bear a heavy travel schedule (sometimes only one or two nights per location, when I was not sleeping in a bus or train) without making people suffer from its fast pace. To put in a nutshell, when I had hard times, I faced them alone, without making anyone suffer around me.

But yes, sometimes, I also did feel lonely. Because no one was here to share the wonders, joys and beauties of the places I saw, no one was here to share my excitation about moving, traveling, discovering this incredible country. No one was there to watch my back, too; it is not a big news that lone travelers are easier preys for thieves, muggers, swindlers, con artists or even just touts.

If being lonely is the price of being free, I guess at least it also made me stronger.

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