CAPÍTULO I: FOREST WOOD
I glance at my watch and see it's 6:45 PM. I've just landed at Nomad Coast Airport and it feels like I've been here before. I take a deep breath and a sudden, overwhelming sense of calm washes over me. I do this every time I land. These past few years, I've been backpacking around the world, and Nomad Coast is my last stop before heading home. I know there's something that connects me to this island, and I'm going to find out what it is. A few years ago, while we were tidying up the basement of my grandfather's house, I found a box that caught my eye. It was a very old fabric box covered in cobwebs. Inside, I discovered a necklace of white clay beads, worn smooth by time, and a letter addressed to my great-grandfather. What was strange wasn't just the sender, but the address on the envelope, a place my family had never mentioned before:
Old Town, 1, Nomad Coast
Upon entering the arrivals area, the first thing I see is the airport's large window, offering a view of the city in the distance. I can't help but linger for a few moments, gazing with a touch of wonder at Nomad Coast, bathed in the glow of an orange sunset. I'm overcome with curiosity to discover what this new place has in store for me.
At the airport, people are coming and going in droves. Some have happy faces because they've just arrived on the island; others, on the contrary, are sad to be leaving, after the wonderful vacation they've surely had. I'm looking for a way to get from the airport to the hostel I've booked in an area called Forest Wood. Initially, I was going to book a room in a motel in the Barracuda district; however, I noticed it didn't have very good reviews online. The hostel room I've chosen is in the middle of nature. On my trips, I always prefer to stay in the most remote and secluded places; this way, I can get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. As I leave the arrivals area, I notice a sign showing all the bus routes, including the one I need to take: Airport-Forest Wood Bus.
After two long hours, the bus drops me off at the last stop, located in the middle of the forest. Stepping into Forest Wood, I breathe air that's much cleaner and fresher than at the airport. The lushness of the forest is wonderful. To avoid getting lost, I turn on my phone and enter the hostel's address. As I walk, I can see some brightly colored larks flying and landing on the path to hunt for insects they spot from above. It's the first time I've seen this type of bird, so I take a picture and... Lens I discover they are nomadic larks, a family of birds native to the island. High in the trees and in the most intricate places, I spot a slippery civet suddenly darting about, ever watchful, like a true spy; and then, just as suddenly, like a shadow, it vanishes from sight. Along the path, I see a few houses lost in the middle of nowhere and I imagine what it must be like to live there, amidst those pleasant landscapes.
After a few minutes of driving, the GPS tells me I've arrived at my destination. I look up and see what appears to be a horse ranch. The lodge is located within the ranch itself.
I approach and, upon arriving, cross the threshold. The first thing I see is a bar, where those who appear to be regulars of the restaurant are crammed together. They drink nonstop and talk loudly. One of the customers is berating another for his football team's poor results. In the corner of the bar, a portly, gigantic man drinks beer with a certain eagerness, looking from side to side without focusing his gaze on anything in particular. The hostel waiter is hurriedly wiping the bar counter, and one of the customers tells him to bring him a small glass of wine and a plate of wild casserole. Apparently, wild casserole is a typical dish of the area. There aren't even any cats at the restaurant tables. The bartender, a short and very thin man, looks at me over the rims of his glasses, and before he can say anything, I approach the bar, and all the customers perched on the counter turn their heads in perfect unison.
"How can I help you?" the waiter asks me.
"I've booked a room for two weeks," I reply.
I go to show him the reservation; the waiter has me sign some papers and gives me the key to my room. I go up to the room where I'll be spending my nights in Forest Wood, drop off my backpack, and head back to the restaurant to get something to eat. The smell of wild casserole fills the entire establishment. I take a seat, and captivated by the aroma, I decide to order the local dish. A young woman with short reddish hair and grayish-blue eyes walks past me. She smiles and approaches.
-Hello, are you from here?
"No, not at all," I reply, "I arrived on the island today. I'm here on a trip."
"Well, they say Nomad Coast is a place to stay," he tells me.
"I don't think I'll stay, I don't usually fit in," I say, denying his offer.
"Well, we'll have to see about that," he replies defiantly.
She sits next to me as if she's known me all my life and smiles at me again.
"Is this your first time traveling?" he asks me with some curiosity.
"No, I've been doing it for several years. One day I left my house with my backpack and I still haven't returned," I reply, smiling.
"I think the best journey is the one of getting to know yourself. When you know who you are, you stop looking for where you fit in and you discover that you can belong anywhere," he tells me.
"I agree, it's important to know yourself, that's why I've come here," I reply.
"Well, you've made a great decision!" she tells me. "I'd love to travel and discover the world out there too, but I have a lot of obligations here and it's complicated."
-Well, we are all born into certain circumstances, but we should always try to do what we are passionate about despite the limitations.
"But what about your family?" he asks me. "Don't you have a family?"
-Of course I have one, but that's no excuse not to go out and discover the world outside.
"Come on, you're a free spirit," he tells me.
-In this society, it's difficult to be truly free. These days, we live in chains, trapped behind invisible fences. Monotony, selfishness, haste, and the voracious consumerism of our society are destructive factors that I try to distance myself from.
The girl looks at me thoughtfully without saying a word. I look at my watch and realize it's getting late.
"I'd love to keep talking to you, but I'm planning to go to the mountains tomorrow and I need to rest," I tell him.
"Sure, no problem. If you need anything, I'll be around," she replies with a smile.
"Are you staying here too?" I ask him.
"I live here," he replies.
We said goodbye and I went back to my room. As I lay down on the bed, I realized I'd forgotten to ask her name. I grabbed my phone and planned my route for the next morning.
It's 7:23 in the morning. I wash my face with cold water, get dressed, and decide to put on the white beaded necklace I found in that mysterious box in my grandfather's basement. I leave the hostel and head towards the Forest Wood residential area. On my way, I see the nomadic larks singing their morning song again, and the civets climbing among the trees and rocks, beginning another day of survival in those wild surroundings.
After a long walk, I arrive at a residential area that stretches across a single avenue. Around the avenue are old houses with their doors wide open, as well as cabins that also retain a certain rustic charm. What surprises me is the presence of commercial buildings representing all kinds of businesses. As I walk along the deserted avenue, the occasional car speeds by.
At the end of the road, I take the path that leads to Mount Hāmau, which rises just a short distance from the village. This mountain is the highest on the entire island and the most popular with tourists visiting the Nomad Coast. From nearby, I can see hikers climbing the slopes, guided by tour guides who showcase the mountain in all its splendor on these adventure trips. I can also see some climbers scaling the steepest and most dangerous parts of the prominence. The agile climbers ascend the rock face with remarkable skill, secured only by their cabled harnesses. Some climbers ascend more quickly and reach the summit first; others fall behind, but all share the goal of completing their climb, reaching the top of the mountain via the most treacherous path.
I continue along the thorniest and most winding mountain paths, and after climbing, I reach the summit. A pleasant, cool breeze envelops me as I complete my ascent. I'm so high up that I can almost touch the sky. In the distance, I can glimpse a village to the south, enclosed by an immense wall of trees. For a long time, I gaze at the horizon, my eyes fixed on that mysterious village. The views are captivating, and I feel a strong desire to know what that charming village holds. However, it's far away, so far away that I can hardly visit it. Besides, according to the signs at the trailhead, it's forbidden to go beyond the mountain and enter the forest surrounding that ancient village. As I was about to get off the train, I suddenly saw the figure of a gaunt, pale old man, dressed in an old, worn robe, over which a long white beard fell to his feet. Suddenly, the stranger fixed his gaze on my face.
Fear consumes me, and I'm in shock for a few seconds as I gaze into those deep blue eyes. Without looking away, the old man shouts at me:
-Children tun kaidala! Children tun kailada!
"Who are you! Where do you come from!" I exclaimed with some fear.
The strange old man began making odd gestures without saying another word. Suddenly, he turned around and disappeared into the mist enveloping Mount Hāmau. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I snapped out of my daze and started down the mountain again.
When I get back to the hostel, I see the girl I spoke to last night again. I approach her, and when she sees me again, she asks:
-How did it go for you in the mountains?
"It really is impressive, the views are fabulous," I reply. "By the way, I forgot to ask your name."
-My name is Monica, Monica Rhodes, and you?
-I won't reveal it to anyone.
Monica is surprised to hear the answer I gave her, and then she says to me again:
-And how do I refer to you?
"Call me Nomad," I reply.
"Okay, Nomad," he says with a certain amount of surprise.
Both she and I experience an involuntary smile that sparks into laughter.
-Hey, would you like to come to the annual surf competition? You can come with me and my friends, you'll like it.
-Of course! When is it?
"In two hours," he explains. "We can go together; the competition is being held in a cove to the north, near Forest Wood."
"I have to finish some things, I'll come later," I tell her. "Give me your number and I'll text you when I get there."
-Great, write it down.
As he gives me his phone number, he fixes his gaze on my beaded necklace.
"What's wrong?" I ask him.
-Nothing, nothing, see you there in a little while -final.
After finishing the things I had pending, I leave the hostel again, leave Forest Wood and head to the address that Monica Rhodes sent me.
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