With a bursting bladder, I run across Utrecht Central station. I need to pee like a hippo. The carpool of BlaBlacar (the carpool edition of AirBnB) turned out to be absolutely fantastic. At 4 `O Clock sharp, a big ass Mercedes was waiting for me at Frankfurt Central Station. After a smooth drive with an average speed of 160 km/hour on the German highway, I was back in the Netherland within the blink of an eye. The only downfall? Due to a tight schedule of one of the fellow passengers, there was no time for toilet breaks. Despite the fact that my bladder had gained the strength of Arnold Schwarzenegger after all the long bus rides in South America, it had definitely reached its limits now.
“Hola Sanne, Grant! Como estas? How are you guys doing?” With a big hug I greet my cousin Pamela. Before we left to the breathtaking Patagonia, we had visited my family in Buenos Aires. The decendants of the brother of my grandfather. He had grabbed his bags after the war and traded the Netherlands for Argentina. Like a lot of people of that time he was lured by the great stories of counties far away, countries full of changes, countries full of jobs and money, a new adventure, a new start. A deep sense of respect arises when I think of these people. “Are we still true travelers?” I think to myself. In the past there wasn`t an endless number of travel guides, travel forums, travel blogs. You weren`t able to `google` where to go, how to prepare yourself or what to expect. You just bought a one-way ticket, took some cash and put some clothes in the suitcase. You embrace your family and friends for one last time and off you go. You turn around one last time and wave them goodbye, knowing you may never see them again. You`ve promised to write them but itwill take weeks for you to get into your promised land and then another few weeks just for the letter to arrive. What a joy it must have been to find the money to make a phone call, to finally hear that familiar voice again, to finally speak in your mother tongue once more. For sure, you must have felt lost and lonely.
After a burn-out it was time for a change. I quit my job, sold my stuff and bought a one-way ticket to the Dominican Republic. What was supposed to be a 4 month adventure turned into 2,5 years and counting......
Photo by: Vanessa Marques Barreto