CHAPTER I: FOREST WOOD
I look at my watch and see that it's 6:45 PM. I've just landed at Nomad Coast airport and I feel like I've been here before. I inhale deeply and suddenly a deafening calm invades me, running through my entire body. I always do this when I land. These last few years, I've dedicated myself to traveling the world with my backpack, and Nomad Coast is my last stop before returning 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 organizing my grandfather's house's basement, I found a box that caught my attention. It was a very old cloth box wrapped in cobwebs. Inside, I discovered a necklace of worn white clay beads and a letter addressed to my great-grandfather. The strange thing was not just the sender, but the address on the envelope, a place my family had never spoken to me about:
Old Town, 1, Nomad Coast
Entering the arrivals area, the first thing I see is the airport's large window, from which you can see the city in the distance. I can't help but gaze for a few moments, somewhat lost, at Nomad Coast, covered by an orange sunset. Curiosity invades me to discover what this new place has in store for me.
At the airport, people stream in and out. Some have happy faces because they've just arrived on the island; others, on the contrary, are sadder about having to leave, about the wonderful vacation they must have had. I look for a way to get from the airport to the hostel, which I've booked in an area called Forest Wood. At first, I was going to book a room at a motel in the Barracuda district; however, I noticed that it didn't have very good reviews online. The hostel room I've chosen is in the middle of nature. On my travels, I always prefer to stay in the most secluded and remote places; this way, I manage to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Leaving the arrivals area, I notice a sign showing all the bus connections, among them, is the one I need to take: Airport-Forest Wood Bus.
After two long hours, the bus drops me off at the last stop, which is in the middle of the forest. As I set foot in Forest Wood, I breathe in air that is much cleaner and fresher than that at the airport. The lushness that surrounds 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 species of bird, so I take a picture of them and with the Lens I discover that they are Nomad Eurasian Skylarks, a family of birds native to the island. Among the trees and the most intricate places, I distinguish how an elusive civet suddenly glides, lying in wait for everything, like a true spy; and, suddenly, like a shadow, it disappears from my sight. Along the way, I see some houses that are lost in the middle of nowhere and I imagine what it would be like to live there, among those pleasant landscapes.
After a few minutes of walking, the GPS tells me I've reached my destination. I look up and see what appears to be an equestrian estate. The hostel is located within the ranch itself.
I approach and upon arriving, I cross the threshold. The first thing I see is a bar, where what appear to be regular customers of the restaurant are entrenched. They drink non-stop and talk loudly. One of the customers reprimands another for his soccer 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 fixing his gaze on one point. The hostel's innkeeper cleans the bar counter with a certain haste, and one of the customers asks him for a glass of wine and a plate of wild casserole. Apparently, wild casserole is a typical dish of the area. There are no cats on the restaurant tables. The bar waiter, a short, very thin man, looks at me over the top of his glasses, and before he can say anything, I approach the bar and all the customers entrenched at the counter turn their necks in perfect synchrony.
-How can I help you? -the innkeeper asks me.
-I've booked a room for two weeks -I reply.
I go to show him the reservation, the innkeeper has me sign some papers and gives me the key to my room. I go up to the room where I will spend my nights in Forest Wood, drop my backpack, and return to the restaurant to have something for dinner. The smell of wild casserole spreads throughout the establishment. I take a seat and, as the aroma captivates me, I decide to order the local dish. A young woman with short reddish hair and grayish-blue eyes passes by me. She smiles and approaches me.
-Hello, are you from around here?
-No, not at all -I answer-, I arrived on the island today. I'm traveling.
-Well, they say Nomad Coast is a place to stay -she tells me.
-I don't think I'll stay, I usually don't fit in -I reject her suggestion.
-Well, we'll see about that -she replies defiantly.
She sits next to me as if she'd known me all her life and smiles at me again.
-Is this your first time traveling? -she asks me with some curiosity.
-No, I've been doing it for several years. One day I left home with my backpack and I haven't returned yet -I answer, smiling.
-I think the best journey is the one to know yourself. When you know who you are, you stop looking for where to fit in and discover that you can belong anywhere -she tells me.
-I agree, it's important to know oneself, that's why I've come here -I answer her.
-Well, you've made a great decision! -she tells me-. I would also love to travel and discover the world out there, but I have many obligations here and it's complicated.
-Well, we are all born with certain circumstances, but we should always try to do what we are passionate about despite the limitations.
-But what about family? -she asks me-. Don't you have family?
-Of course, I do, but it's no excuse not to go out and discover the world out there.
-So, you're a free spirit -she blurts out.
-In this society, it's difficult to be completely free. Nowadays, we live in chains, enclosed in invisible fences. Monotony, selfishness, haste, the voracious consumerism of our society are destructive factors from which I try to distance myself.
The girl looks at me thoughtfully without saying a word. I look at my watch and realize it's gotten late.
-I'd love to keep talking to you, but tomorrow I plan to go to the mountains and I need to rest -I tell her.
-Sure, no problem. If you need anything, I'll be around -she replies with a smile.
-Are you staying here too? -I ask her.
-I live here -she replies.
We say goodbye and I return to my room. As I lie down in bed, I realize I forgot to ask her name. I grab my phone and plan 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 bead necklace I found in that mysterious box in my grandfather's basement. I leave the hostel and head to the residential area of Forest Wood. On my way, I see the Nomad larks again singing their morning song and the civets climbing among the trees and rocks, beginning a new day of survival among those wild surroundings.
After a long walk, I arrive at a residential area that consists of a single avenue. Around the avenue, there are old houses that are wide open, as well as cabins that also enjoy a certain primitiveness. Something that surprises me is that there are commercial buildings of all kinds of sectors. As I walk along the solitary avenue, an occasional car speeds past.
At the end of the road, I take the path that leads to Mount Hāmau, which rises a few steps from the village. This mountain is the highest on the entire island and the most frequented by tourists visiting Nomad Coast. From nearby, I can see how hikers climb the slopes guided by tourist guides, who showcase the ridge in all its abundant form on those adventure trips. Likewise, I can see some mountaineers climbing the steepest and most dangerous parts of the prominence. The agile climbers ascend the rock with enormous skill, with only their wired harnesses for support. Some climbers ascend with more haste and reach the summit earlier; others fall behind, but all aim to complete their climb, reaching the highest point of the mountain by the most rugged path.
I continue along the most thorny and winding paths of the mountain and after ascending, I reach the summit. A pleasant cool breeze envelops me upon completing my climb up the mountain. I am at such a high altitude that I can touch the sky with my own hands. From a distance, I can glimpse a village to the south, encircled by an immense wall of trees. For a long time, I contemplate the horizon, my eyes fixed on that mysterious village. The views are fascinating, and the need arises within me to discover what that endearing village hides. However, it is far, so far, that I will hardly be able to visit it. Furthermore, from what I have read on the signs at the entrance to the route, it is forbidden to go beyond the mountain and infiltrate the forest that surrounds that primitive village. As I prepare to descend, suddenly, I see the figure of a gaunt, pale old man, dressed in an old and worn tunic, over which a long white beard falls to his feet. Suddenly, the stranger fixes his gaze on my face.
Fear devours me, and I remain in shock for a few seconds at the sight of those deep blue eyes. The old man, without taking his eyes off me, shouts:
-Nios tun kaidala! Nios tun kailada!
-Who are you! Where do you come from! -I exclaim with some fear.
The unusual old man begins to make some strange gestures without saying another word. Suddenly, he turns around and disappears into the mist that envelops Mount Hāmau. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, I shake off my numbness and once again prepare to descend the mountain.
Upon arriving at the hostel, I see the girl I spoke with last night again. I approach her, and upon seeing me again, she asks:
-How was your mountain trip?
-It's truly impressive, the views are fabulous -I reply-. By the way, I forgot to ask your name.
-My name is Monica, Monica Rhodes, and yours?
-I don't reveal it to anyone.
Monica looks surprised to hear my answer, then she says to me again:
-And what should I call you?
-Call me Nomad -I answer her.
-Okay, Nomad -she says with a touch of surprise.
An involuntary smile emerges from both of us, bursting 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 -she clarifies-. We can go together, the competition is held in a cove to the north, near Forest Wood.
-I have to finish some things, I'll go later -I tell her-. Give me your number and I'll text you when I arrive.
-Great, write it down.
As she gives me her phone number, she fixes her gaze on my bead necklace.
-What's wrong? -I ask her.
-Nothing, nothing, I'll see you there in a bit -she concludes.
After finishing the things I had pending, I leave the hostel again, leave Forest Wood, and head to the address Monica Rhodes sent me.
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