El Luis strikes back
‘The phoenix or firebird originated in ancient mythology and has gone through a variety of representations in art/literature, ranging from being fully birdlike to having the head of a dog and suckling its young’
‘The phoenix or firebird originated in ancient mythology and has gone through a variety of representations in art/literature, ranging from being fully birdlike to having the head of a dog and suckling its young’
As I was still feeling the sour taste of defeat, I knew I had little time to act fast. I had been traveling for 15 hours of so, and at the arrival of the local youth hostel of the city of Gent I learned there was no place left. When I heard this my first tought was taking a crash course on “Going Homeless 101” from the local beggar I had seen in the streets of the city centre. I could picture my mom’s answer, telling her that her little precious had to spend his first night in the street: “So what? You’re a man!” (Yup….that’s her)
I addressed the receptionist – a lad with long hair and beard- with the first (intelligent?) question I could think of:
“Dude”
“Yessir” – he replied
“Is there another hotel somewhere around? Like, you know, cheapy cheapy?”
“Well, I don’t know how much they cost, but if you walk around the city center you’ll find something for sure. Try going first to the tourism information center.”- He replied as he started searching for a map in his desk
“Do you think I’ll find cheapy cheapy rates?” – I asked again
“I don’t know, you’ll have to check”
“Did I remark I’m looking for a cheapy cheapy place”?
“Yes. You have an issue with money I see” -
“Nah, just sold my kidney, and wouldn’t like to spend my money in a wrong way” –
“That must have been a difficult decision” – said he, very concerned
“It was, especially after selling my sister to the Russians”
“you must have had a though life” – he replied again with some pittyness
“Very though”- was my last reply (btw: what a dumbass!).
The reception dude handed me the map pointing out where we were, and where the information center was. I saw the map, saw my mobile home equipment, then saw the map again. There was no freaking way I was going to carry around the pieces of rock with me while trying to find a hotel (if I could fine one of horse). It seems that my face spoke on its own, as wanna be Jesus told me I could leave my stuff with him in the reception, and then come back to pick them up once I had found something. Within the whole messy/crappy/shitty context of my first day in Belgium, that was by far the best thing that could have happened.
First stop before taking off again was the local gents room….no, not to do that!!! (you dirty freaks). I just needed to refresh a bit…and honestly, I was pretty stinky by that moment I think (try wearing a life saver jacket at 30° during some hours and then tell me if your body doesn’t sweat). I had to improvise a shower from the sink, and tried to “wash” myself in the most decent way I could think off. After that, I changed the sweaty clothes and put new ones on (some summer stuff, to be disguised as a normal person), and then off I took.
The clock was ticking at the sound of “sleep-sleep, sleep-sleep”, I knew I had to step up the pace. At the local information office of Gent I received a list with different hotels, with no mention on their prices unfortunately :s. I tried a couple of them that were pretty close by, but the price alone was working better than any energy drink to keep me kicking for a little time extra.
At some moment I found myself walking in one of the streets from the city, slightly away from the main squares and all main attractions. Suddenly, I saw lots of faces smiling at me, female J faces. “At least somebody looking in a nice way at me” I thought. “But Gee, I wonder why those ladies are behind a crystal wall? And do people in Belgium walk on their underwear the whole time while at home?”…you can slap me in the face now, but I was THAT naïve back then not to figure out right away I was in the red light district (aka: the hooker street). At least my ego was receiving a little boost from the ladies of the linen life, and some parts of my body were waking up a bit more than I should have wanted , nice view doesn’t kill anyone of course!.
It might have been luck, faith or destiny, but I think I had to be in that street. As I was enjoying my sight with the display of women bodies, I also saw there was a hotel in the middle of the street. Yes, it looked crappy ..Extremely crappy. That could only mean one thing: cheapy cheapy!! I entered the hotel, checked the rates, and was more than happy to see it costed half of what the others hotels were asking for a night (although it meant taking a room with no private bathroom…who cared?). I paid right away, got my keys, searched the room, opened the door, saw the room, threw the keys on the floor and jumped to the bed…and away I was from this world, in what was probably the best night of sleep I have had in all my life.
The phoenix has a 500 to 1000 year life-cycle, near the end of which it builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix or phoenix egg arises, reborn anew to live again. The new phoenix is destined to live as long as its old self
Fourteen hours after (yes, 14!) I finally came out of hibernation mode. I checked the clock at it was 6 am in the morning.
The phoenix was awaken!!!
After my long sleep, I woke up as a different man, literally and figurative speaking. First, after a good shave and a decent bath, the Neanderthal look was gone. Second: after reviewing the map of the city I exactly knew where to go. Third: I left the hotel, not before trying to get the receptionist’s phone number as the chick was hot….no luck though. As I left the street where the hotel was located, and followed the direction I had marked, I asked myself : will my plan work out?
Coming soon:
Part III: Real life, Belgian version
