EASTWIND part 1, journals of a drifter

by Bernie Lopez

Author's Note. This is an excerpt from the unpublished book Wings and Wanderlust, the Art of Discovering Yourself. There are life-long lessons on the road of adventure that I learned in my youth. You can say I took my Doctorate in Adventure from the University of the World. Let me share small portions of that intense period I called eastwind. For they are very relevant today in our age of confusion. As a young man, I did what few Filipinos dared. I hitchhiked 25,000 kilometers for 18 months through 18 European countries with just $1,000 in my pocket. I have written a book about it.

 

Portugal 1976. It was early Spring and I headed north after a winter sojourn in Morocco and Canary Islands. Hitchhiking from Cadiz with a Spanish guitar I bought in Madrid, I entered the Portuguese border, hoping to catch the wild fiesta at Vila Franca de Xira.

 

It was dusk when I hit Vila Real de Santo Antonio. Not knowing where I would sleep, I was eyeing a nearby park. I preferred to be burdened by a guitar rather than a tent and risked the rain because the guitar was an absolute magic wand.

 

I was frugal because I wanted to stretch my money for the long trek. I was also brave and resourceful. I headed for a noisy bar where no one was sober. I wanted a free meal. So I took out my guitar and started singing. To catch attention, I sang a lively Christmas song, Ang Pasko ay Sumapit, right in the middle of Spring. There was absolute silence. Half way through the song, a large mug of beer slid in front of me. At the end of the song, there was a giant ham sandwich escorting the beer.

 

After the song, they told me to drink and eat. Someone took over the guitar. The Portugese are like Filipinos, very warm, very boisterous, very drunk. They were so happy seeing me finish the beer in two gulps and the sandwich in six bites. They were completely amused with my broken Spanish. On my fifth mug, the noise was going into a crescendo, but I did not care.

 

Someone asked me where I was going to sleep. I said I did not know. He told me I could sleep in his place. I said yes instantly, as it was better than the park if it rains. Another guy approached, asking the same question. I told him I was going to sleep in the first guy's place. The second guy insisted I sleep at his place. The two argued who was going to be my host. The heated argument became a brawl. They were on the floor. Everyone was screaming. It was pandemonium.

 

I slipped away quietly and ended up sleeping at the park. There were only three instances when the rain caught me in all 18 months - Milan, Las Palmas and Algarve. In my inebriated state, watching the stars from my suite, I felt elated that complete strangers who liked me would fight over me. I was enthralled by the raw spirit of the Portuguese. Lesson of the day - there are times you should never plan, let circumstance plan for you. The more you plan, the less you get. In our chaotic world today, sometimes not planning is the best plan.

Next day, I hitchiked to Algarve where there was a camping ground. I wanted to wash my denims. I had only two pairs of pants on the road, one I wore. It was hard to wash heavy jeans by hand. I had to twist it around a post to squeeze out the water. A Brit came up to me and said, "Looks like rain." He did not have a tent like me.

 

He introduced me to two lovely Canadian girls with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Between the four of us, we had a rowdy evening with Jack D. I whispered to the Brit that we should sleep near their tent so that if it rains, they would take us in. He winked at me. For the first time, I was praying for rain. And it did rain, and cats and dogs at that.

 

We slipped into their tent and there were the four of us like nice sardines. They were giggling but believe me, it was water water everywhere but not a drop to drink, if you know what I mean. Lesson of the day - people on the road take care of each other, as I often experienced.

 

The fiesta at Vila Franca de Xira was famous because they let two bulls loose in a fenced portion of the main streets. Only the brave and the drunk dared tease the bulls, but not me. My valor was of a different kind. After the fireworks at dusk, I strolled along the streets. Everyone was out in the open roasting sardinas frescas and drinking agua pe. Agua pe was cheap but powerful red wine. Agua pe means 'foot wine', referring to when they wash their feet after they crush the grapes. Do not to take that literally.

 

It was their costumbre to give to all passersby roasted sardines and shot or two of agua pe. After two short blocks, I was woozy. The people were as hospitable and noisy as Filipinos. I felt at home.

 

Lesson of the day - people are more exciting than panoramic views and ancient castles. Throughout eastwind, I traveled to meet people rather than see places.

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