The turning point

I woke up, and it took time to do breakfast and close camp. I was completely out of water after doing the dishes as good as possible with what I had, so when I came into the village Gallur, I wanted to refill my water. I think I got something wrong, but the person explaining told me something about that the water in the houses were not drinkable, and gave me directions to another place. I went too far, over a bridge, and met another person. He showed me one tap, but as it had a sign of a rat painted on it, it did not feel safe. He took me back over the bridge, and close to the bridge, the original place was. It was some kind of well with running water, and more than one person said it was drinkable. A woman in a window also wanted a photo of me with my bike. I felt touched by the helping people, and in the state I was in, close to crying.
On my way to the next village, I stopped and took some photos. It actually was enjoyable, and that reminded me of all the things I actually learnt during this trip.

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I still felt no motivation, and after just 12 kilometres I bought a kind off lunch (energy bars isch) and mozzarella at the supermarket. I asked a guy about wifi, and he gave me directions to Casa de Cultura, and even if the place itself did not give much more than Internet, it was here so much would change.
I wrote how I felt on Facebook, and also sent messages to some friends who hopefully would be free to talk.
What I wrote here on the blog was this:
“It may be the end

I am long after in the posting, and I will make those posts later. Now, about the present problem.

I really don’t feel like continuing the trip. Ever since Barcelona, it has not felt good anymore. Maybe because that was my first main goal, and now I feel done. Whichever reason, I am tired. Sad. Got no motivation. The only time it felt good yesterday was after putting up camp and started sleeping (at 17.00). I think the main reason is loneliness. I have had no problems biking by myself until Barcelona, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore.

I have met many wonderful people on the way, which has made this trip awesome. The problem is that I am still lonely after continuing.

I have not made my mind up yet, and my direction is “North Portugal”. We’ll see what happens.”

I still do not know what changed in Barcelona, but I got response on Facebook, mainly telling me to do as I feel, and that I already did a really big trip. I also got ahold of Astrid, and even if I don’t remember exactly what we said, I know it helped. Afterwards, my course were no longer set on North Portugal, and not even Japan for now, but home. I still wanted to see Morocco, but I could not come up with a good point why I would go to Portugal. Therefore, at that place and time, I just changed my route to South of Spain, so I could get over to Morocco. It already felt better, and I was no longer crying. I sent out a Warmshowers request to a place 30 kilometres from there.
With new energy I set out on my new route. Too bad it would suck as hard as possible, but to be honest, I still felt better than any other day after Barcelona while biking!
It started out as a gravel road, which was doable without a problem. Even met some sheep on the way!

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Then, the mud came…
It clogged between my fenders and my wheel. The wheel couldn’t turn, and sometimes it was just as much as needed to make me go slower. Sometimes I got it out, to ten metres later go through another place I could not avoid. At least I got the idea to use my fork, and I could get the mud away pretty quick. It was also pretty hilly, which did not help, and many of the roads did not appear on the map, so one time I had to go off-road between roads as I was on the wrong one. As I said earlier, though, still felt better than the other days. I was back!
Also, the views were nice.

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I was thinking of not getting the mud all out as I could bike and “it would probably clog again”. I am glad that I did it, because suddenly, the road got less muddier. A couple of kilometres later, I passed a really big point.
I have now biked 5000 kilometres on this trip.

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There were no more mud, and suddenly asphalt. I came into a small village, and did not have many kilometres left. I put on my lights as it had become dark, and skipped a jacket, as I could do without it and would be much more visible. I put the back light in my neck to be sure to be seen as I would do my first dark driving on the side of a road, which was really scary, but all the cars seemed to see me at a couple of hundred metres, as they all came by really slow.
As the road sucked, instead of maximum two hours, the 30 kilometres took me 4.5 hours. I was by the host I had seen on Warmshowers. This was a guess, as I had yet to get an answer, but in notice he had written, in Spanish, “If possible, or just show up. The house is yours.” I found the place, rang the bell, and… No one opened. Some neighbours were going out, and started helping me when I asked them. We called the numbers I had, and got ahold of his wife, which they said would come “pronto”. After a few minutes she appeared, and explained something I did not understand then. She was calling her sister, as the wife herself were working, and we went and met the sister. And the sister let me in into her apartment, no questions asked, showed me around, helped me start a washing machine, showed me the food and went to eat dinner at her mothers place. This was the highest grade of hospitality so far, and it was amazing!
My bed was even big enough for my feet not to stick out, and really comfortable. I am so grateful for those people, who let me in like this without a seconds notice.

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