A home is a place of residence or refuge. It is usually a place in which an individual or a family can rest and be able to store personal property. Most modern-day households contain sanitary facilities and a means of preparing food. (Wikipedia)
The home of WorldWalk is their tents, you decide if it’s a real one.
by FERENC IVANICS
After spending another tiresome day in Málaga—we had handed out some 200 flyers and had chatted with a dozen passerbies—we headed home to our campsite. It had been the third week that we put up or tents every night on a hill to the north of Málaga: the city below us, the hills above us. We had a good view of the blocks of flats nearby, many people came up to ‘our’ hill to walk the dog or for some fresh water from the fountain: it wasn’t a lonely, remote life we were living. Anyways, it was a nice place to stay, we’d been getting quite fond of it.
So, we arrived home, as usual, put up the tents, sit down on the grass to have our dinner. There was a nice, peaceful ambience with the noises of the city and the birdsongs of the hills, but then suddenly... THUMP! A strange noise ruined our idyllic soundscape. We were looking around, when... thump, once more. An then we saw a stone rolling in our direction. In no time we discovered a group of teenagers hiding behind a rock on the hillside, they opened artillery fire on us. There was five of them, three of the five were throwing stones at us. They were too far away, there was nothing to do about it, so we fled.
When we were safely out of range, they took off ther coats, and started to throw their ammunition even more fiercely, they seemingly enjoyed the extended challenge. We just counted some fifty shots, when a kind, bald, bearded, well-built man appeared with his german shepherd. We started to chat with him, and he understood right away—after some mime explication—what the reason of our disbelief was. Or maybe it wasn’t our mime performance that enlightened him but the incoming stones.
He addressed the boys in a beautiful Spanish, though the volume was high enough and the content sounded a bit vulgar, it was music to our ears, and it was effective: the boys moved on without saying a word. But for our own sake we looked for another camping site that very same night, farther up the hills.
This bizarre, but fortunately rare story refreshed our memories of our previous experiences of camping in the wild, I hope you will enjoy the summary of our European and African camping adventures: coming soon.
Camping in the Wild: Europe
Camping in the Wild: Africa
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