Alone but not lonely in Spain

Costa del Sol, Spain — There is something liberating about not knowing where to go. No plan. Yes, you read that right.

As children, we did not bother with schedules and plans. We did what we wanted (well, almost) without a care in the world. Of course, there are still many grown-ups who seem to behave like children and carry on living in this dreamlike state — but that’s another story. As responsible adults, we have to know exactly where we are going, what we are doing and with whom we are doing it (yes, that too!). Hence, the popularity of PDA or personal digital assistant to aid the orderly flow of our daily existence.

The thought of "not having a plan" can be most frightening for many grown-ups. It’s irresponsible, flighty, risky… adventurous? Ah, yes. Sometimes, the best experiences transpire when we don’t have a clue what in the world we’re doing. I don’t mean for the rest of our lives, but for a very brief moment—say for 48 hours.

I loaded up my horses in the truck on a Monday morning, en route to Belgium where they are based, after a five-week equestrian competition called the "Sunshine Tour" held annually in Vejer dela Frontera in the south of Spain. Uncertain of the transport schedule, I booked my flight out of Spain on a Wednesday, two days after the horses departed.

After checking out of Conil Park Hotel — my home for a month and a half — I packed my a total of five suitcases in my rented Clio and drove away. Five kilometers down the motorway that I took each day to the horse show grounds, I realized I had no where to go.

Duh.

The human brain tends to malfunction after too many bonks on the head, I guess. At that point, all the competitions were over and my horses were on their three-day road trip. I just checked out of my hotel and my return ticket to Brussels wasn’t until Wednesday. So, what was I to do for two days by my lonesome? I didn’t have a clue.

For about two minutes, the situation was quite unsettling. Suddenly, I felt a surge of excitement. I was in Europe with nothing to do, nowhere to be. I could do anything I absolutely felt like doing and go anywhere I could possibly drive to. That’s what I call freedom! I felt like a kid again, only better. Because now I could drive and, more importantly, I have a credit card (hehe)!

First stop was the gas station. I wasn’t running on empty, but I didn’t know where the road would take me, either. Surely, one needs a full tank to get to the "edge of the world." I was on the same motorway for an hour and a half when I saw signs towards The Rock of Gibraltar. I did not know much about the place or even why or how it earned the name, but it piqued my curiosity, nonetheless.

At the mouth of the island, visitors queued both on foot and in their vehicles. I joined the long line, waiting patiently for my turn at the gates. Once there, uniformed guards asked to see my passport. After about five minutes, an official politely informed me that I was not allowed to go past the gates because I did not carry a UK Visa. "The Rock," which looked smaller to me than, say Megamall, is apparently part of British territory. All non-European passport holders must therefore have the appropriate visa to enter. Not that I was dying to get in — after all, it was only chance that brought me there, but it bewildered me how this "rock" in the middle of the Andalusian Region is controlled by and belongs to another country several thousand kilometers away. And how a visitor such as myself, could drive and walk freely for over a month, up, down and around this region, without restrictions, yet not be allowed access up this hunk of rock. I was not about to get stressed over the situation. So I willingly complied, turned around and drove away.

I was tired of driving at that stage. I wanted to sleep, more than anything else. So I did. I parked my mobile home in an open space by the Rock’s port and shut my eyes. Three hours later, I woke up. It was almost seven o’clock. I was getting hungry. I still did not have a place to stay for the night, but at least that gave me some semblance of a plan—find a hotel. I continued on the same road and drove until I was really hungry. I found myself in Marbella by then. Not a bad place to be, considering it’s one of the most popular tourists spots in Spain. I checked in where I could find parking and told the guy at the desk I only planned to stay overnight.

Marbella is along the famous Costa del Sol, where restaurants, cafes and bars are in abundance along the beach and boardwalk. Shops were open until midnight and with the burst of life and activity around the area, I could not think of a more perfect place to be in when you’re alone. It was difficult to feel lonely in a place so full of energy.

The first 24 hours were over. Just a day to go, then I would be heading back to Belgium with definite plans. It was easy to stay in my hotel room, watch CNN, read a book and let time fly. Why would I want to do that? Once again, I packed my bags and into my "mobile home" I went, driving to nowhere. I was getting the hang of it; I was actually enjoying not knowing what to do with myself.

I heard there was a great churros place up in the hills of Mijas. It was an easy two-hour drive from where I was, but what the heck…anything for an authentic Spanish churros con chocolate! I was just in time for merienda cena but, just my luck, the churreria ran out of hot chocolate. Nevertheless, the trip was not all a waste as the view up the hills of Mijas was spectacular. There were a few cars, but more donkeys and mules carrying passengers up and down the hills. Again, tourists drove in hoards, surely not all for the churros, but for the quaint charm of this hilltop town.

After sipping the last drop of the strongest cup of espresso I’ve ever had, I drove back down to one of my favorite destinations in Europe—Puerto Banus. I wrote about this place in a past article, the very first time that I visited it. It’s perhaps the only spot in the world with the most number of beautiful people per square meter. Everybody looks as if they just stepped out of Vogue and GQ magazines! I had the best Indian cuisine of my life at Mumtaz, served by a true-blue Pinoy. We are just everywhere, aren’t we? Then, it was midnight. I did not worry about finding a hotel so late in the night, since there are hotels in every corner of Puerto Banus. It was only a matter of finding the cheapest one!

Time did fly. I hardly even noticed that I was alone. My flight was early Wednesday morning. Like always, I drove myself to the airport, bade my Clio goodbye at the car rentals return and boarded my plane back to reality. It surprised me how easy it was to be alone. Of course, a holiday is always best spent with family and friends, and some sort of agenda is nice, too, but I realized that being alone does not have to be lonely, at all. And having no plans, no schedule, no agenda can be the most liberating feeling ever.