A cold and cloudy Swiss November’s day is the beginning of a journey. Four years after I have travelled the first time to morocco; four years after I have left my home alone to discover an unknown world, to finally be what I always wanted to be: free; four years after my life was changed through beautiful encounters and miraculous coincidences. This time I am travelling together with my brother, which is a new experience for both of us.
Our journey starts in Wangen, a tiny highway-entrance close to where we grew up, and it begins after only fifteen minutes waiting with a lazy soldier who leaves for his duty to the barracks – stringing badminton rackets for professional sports – and promises us a lucky day. He drops us at a small gas station close to Bern where we wait one hour for a exhibition-van of he swiss mountain rescue service rega. The next thirty kilometres we make with a crazy young Georgian who smokes all the time and operates his GPS while he's talking at the phone (and driving his car, somehow straight along the highway). Even when he was driving just 90km/h we were keen on getting out as soon as possible. So we ended up at an other gas station where we waited two hours until a very kind french man took us and brought us until the pay toll of Grenoble. There, along with the sunset, a boy stops by bringing us to Valence, telling us his whole life story on the way and listening french street rap music. That's how a new journey starts.
Leaving a companion in a swiss night.
Finally in the south!
Impressions from Collioure, France.
Enjoying the wild, L'ametlla de Mar, Spain.
