Friday 1 October 2010

23 of Setembre - wooOoooow...

   Woking up at 6 o'clock doesn't seem that hard when you can sleep later.We went to the service restaurant, and Sr.Antonio said they had delicious croissants, so without thinking I withdraw the nutella glass from the backpack.I just cant believe that I am going to eat croissant avec nutella today!I feel so good!

   Brushing the teeth and shaving after, we went for out breakfast.Sr.Antonio paid me the croissant and a coffe with milk.I asked the barmaid for a "cotello" so I could cut the croissant and spread nutella all over it.Its unbelievable what a nutella croisant can do to you.I got normal to super happy in just a moment.I was really positive for this day today, and we hit the road after the delicious breakfast.

   Passing Angoleme and its highway, we went to the national roads ,seeing the countryside, with lots of green hills, lots of white cows,small cottages and villages.The main road was blocked by the police, probabily because today was the general strike of public transportation in France,so we went through a lovely village, with a not so lovely jam.Antonio was foreseeing this, but he coud'nt do nothing about it.The village had a canal next to the road were we were jammed, and small boats of diferent nationalities went left qnd right, without rush, people walking their dogs,all happy, it looked like an advert of a magazine.

   After the jam we were back to the countryside and the 85Km/hour,and we passed a zone which was hit by strong winds 2 yars ago, and when the truck driver told me to look to the right I could'nt believe the amount of dark logs that were pilled up- huge amounts of logs pilled up to 20 meters high and 100 wide, for kilometers,being watered like gardens so that they could not be burned.The amoutt of water waisted-for 2 years, continuously watering the logs like that-that's nonsense.

    When we arrived to Beaune's service station Sr. Antonio Still had 45mins to rest there, so I left the backpack there and went asking the people .I asked evryone and everything, and although Dijon was the closest city to Beaune it seemed noone was going there.Sr. Antonio said I had no chance getting out of there, and I grinned at him.I took my stuff out of the truck, and Antonio offered me some food for the ride.I said goodbye to him and a danish truck driver which was trying to help , but we didn't understood Danish and he didn't understood neither portuguese english or french.I went to the exit of the sevice station, and hitchhiked there.I saw on the sign sayng Beaune a writting sayng "kulture of the parasites=France".That got me thinking.I also wrotte "Joao Miranda Hitchhicked here!" and as I was writting "the last mile seems the longest, but you go/" a car horned and I rushedly got into it.

     The driver was very cool and nice,and he had an underground look, skinny with long hair stuck stuck in a ball behind his head.I said to him he was a super nurse!, because he told me he was a nurse which travelled from hospital to hospital all over france, and he earned more money than the other nurses for doing that.I told him I wanted to buy a phone so he did me the favor of driving me to outside of dijon to a comercial center to buy a phone.Only when he got out of the car I realized he was very tall!1,94m he told me.I bought the phone there for 20euro,the first money I had spent in Spain and france.He drove me back to Dijon to my host.He had a cool GPS that was comunity based, and if someone saw the police they could mark it on the map.We got to the centre of dijon, full of gottic churches and old medieval Houses, with the wooden structure showing in X's.We meet Arnaud, my first host of couchsurfing, and although he wasn't as tall as the driver he was as cool as him.trucker cap, short beard with glasses,yeah, he was cool.Coming with him; we turned around the corner to go to his place and I couldn't believe the house at the end of the alley- a magnificient 3 floor old medieval house, with the X structure made of dark wood showing, the rest painted in a nice yellow, with a traditional roof of the region, Borgundy.It was fuckin amazing"This is where I live"Arnaud pointed to the 3 floor tower-"Wooooooowww...."I slobbered, lost in astonishment.I couldn't believe I was sleeping in that piece of history.When I was a kid, I used to do that kind of house; only in miniature, and always wondered what was living inside it.

    He lived in a small apartment inside that magnificient house, with large thick walls and old wooden pavement.I put my backpack there and we waited for his similar friend and we hit the streets ,it was a bit past 10.We arrived to a boat alongside the shore of a small river going through dijon, and they wanted to go inside to distribute flyers for a reggae event they were making a month from now, in the same boat.I heard some Low noises from the boat.They said they were only delivering the flyers, so we went inside without paying descending to the cave of the boat ,the bass sounds of the dubstep music got stronger,in which a bald man was putting the music,awkwardly  balancing his body to the awkwarldy sounding rythm.Arnauth told me he was Joni Kaly,member of a pretty known dubstep baand; the UZUL.The boat was small, so the place quickly filled up, with young french people digging the sound ,balancing their heads front to back.I watched the audience and their appearance and behavior, and they all seemed to imitate each other in those both aspects.what looked like an “underground”look of the guy that picked me up at the service station was a common look amoung those youngsters,and because they were from the same area they all looked the same.But I saw that back in my school we did the same.We wanted so bad to fit in that we leave our own way of thinking and start to think like the others.They offered me a drink and then I went to arnaud to a friend’s apartement, walking a bit but still in centre Dijon.His friends were very cool, a 26 amateur hip-hop singer with a crazy Einstein look and a 25 French artist girl, who had some interesting ideas about vegetarianism.She gave me a list of art museums to see in Dijon, but only the good ones.We had a cool nigh there,drinking expensive wine , pate and fromage on the table,funny but deep talkls like learning what was pe de vagin with some spliffs in the middle;  music played from a modern gramophone with vynil records from hip-hop to old French music.The owner of the apartment, the hip-hop singer, had to work in the morning so he kicked us out at 1:45 am.We were a bit drunk but we returned home safely.

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