Hours spent playing that video game loaded with adventure and fantasy, controlling the little elf-like creature of Zelda through mystical worlds meeting inn-keepers, finding swords and armor, and learning when to avoid and when to fight evil. It seems like so long ago. Back then, it was merely a way to keep an 12 year old��s overactive mind busy, but now I find that the Nintendo game of Zelda or any other adventure/fantasy game is the perfect parody of the life of a traveler.
Fresh off the plane and particularly after getting no sleep whatsoever, Spain has a mystical quality. It is the same quality that any other unknown venue has when first seen by the weary traveler. The excitement of the new adventure yet the fear of the unknown. Mentally, the traveler is as prepared as he could be, but there is something that lacking in that preparedness. Something that schooling cannot give one: experience.
I arrived late and alone. The first challenge was the all too simple task of arriving at home base and finding the life regenerating potion, in non-video game speak, food. To arrive I stumbled upon a magic warp ( taxi) which transported me to the door of the Resdencias Universitarias. Then to talk to the inn-keeper, the all-knowing consierge, who told me where I would find lodging and a group of beings similar to myself. It was with them that I could find comraudery and support when the evils of boredom and solitude breeched the doors of a good learning experience. After finding all of the fore-mentioned items, I had successfully passed level one and was ready to proceed.
The second level consisted of getting through Spanish grammar class while the evil grip of siestas and sloth tried to destroy my study habits. It is little known that Spain or maybe just Alcala de Henares is a black hole where time seems to be eaten by the menial tasks of going to Al Campo. Now I was armed with the sword of the Spanish word and prepared me better to face the members of the city who would help me in my journey through Spain. Only by hunting out our intercambios could better swords be achieved. At this level, also the mastery of the public transportation made more adventures possible. The trusted bus drivers weaved in and out quickly of the traffic of Alcala, but as all good adventure games go, nothing good comes without a price. Our poor ears were pounded with the sound of horrible American music.
The true adventures started as we began to stray from home base. The first adventure was to the land of witches and warlocks and rain. Galicia was everything that legends are made from. We stopped first in Ferrol and gazed upon the former boss of this imaginary world of Spain, Franco, coated with paint and egg as he sat on his horse in the middle of the plaza. After walking around aimlessly, as wanderers tend to do, we came across a guard at the Marina (one of the Spanish naval bases is in Ferrol) who gave us the clue to the next part of our journey, Mugardos:the land of the best Merluza in the world and a mysterious castle. Walking on this island through the grove of knotty trees and green landscape similar to that of Ireland, we came across a town dweller on her daily walk who bestowed upon us the secret of castanas that she had recently found on her walk to cure her of her spine problems. She guided us to the castle that once served as the holding pin of warlords who threatened to overthrow democracy in 1981, yet for us, no battles were to be found that day.
Off to la Coruna where beneath a rainbow, we encountered a wirey old man who began to tell us his stories of travel and his extensive knowledge of the female gender. He guided us to the Torre de Hercules, where we watched the sun go down on our time in that enchanted city. The inn-keeper in Santiago de Compostela took us on yet another adventure, Spanish bowling, which is a curious mix between skee-ball and bowling. There is also the avoidance of evil that one must learn if he is to continue on his journeys.
Luis of Pontevedra proved to be quite a challenge to avoid. This sly character with the voice of a villain and the persistence of a mad-man wormed his way into our lives by buying us chupitos of orujo, a powerful liqour from Galicia. We learned quickly that this meant a self invitation to hang around us the rest of the night. Creeping stealthily along the hall-ways of our hostal trying to avoid waking him up, we managed to escape to the night life of la Coruna unaccompanied. However, he found his way to the same bus we were taking to Santiago de Compostela. After one more encounter, we wer experience tested for evil.
The difference between your everyday way ward traveler and that of Zelda, is that Zelda��s mission was laid out for him in computer code: find the princess and the treasure. Our experience in Spain is a little less planned. Every inn-keeper we meet that tells us a great place to spend the day, every old stranger that tells us his life story, or every Luis that finds his way onto the bus, point you in a direction that you might not have ordinarily taken, the real adventure is finding where the strange coincidences lead you.
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