Breaking Free

by Jeffrey Vonk

  Breaking Free

  Good to Go 1

  Jeffrey Vonk

  ISBN: 9789493056145 (ebook)

  ISBN: 9789493056152 (paperback)

  Publisher: Amsterdam Publishers

  Copyright © 2019 Jeffrey Vonk. All right reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronical or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Switzerland

  2. Russia

  3. China

  4. Tibet

  5. Nepal

  6. India

  7. The Gambia

  8. Jordan

  9. Syria

  10. Kurdistan

  Afterword

  Thank you

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to my parents and older brother. Three people who never took the time to get to know me.

  * * *

  Hope this helps.

  Introduction

  The late Wilbur E. Garrett once wrote: “When we try to explain the daredevil behavior of a cat we say ‘Curiosity killed the cat’ and when it somehow survives we cover that with ‘A cat has nine lives’. The same could be said about explorers.”

  When I ran away from home for the first time I was only three years old. It’s actually my very first memory. My dad was a bricklayer but due to a back injury, he spent most of his time as a security guard at a factory, if he wasn’t busy volunteering at the fire fighters, so I didn’t see him often. Therefore, my mother was usually the one to take my brother and me to school on the bicycle, which is quite common in the Netherlands. Propped against the child seat in the back, I was always absorbing my surroundings with a growing urge to question the unknown, laying a foundation for intrusiveness so to speak.

  Back home my mother would return to her daily chores like doing the laundry, which she takes a bit too seriously by even ironing the washcloths. During one of these unguarded, busy moments I saw a chance for my long-anticipated escape. Having crossed the traffic-filled street I vanished into forbidden terrain. Young as I was, I still recall the euphoria of nobody looking over my shoulder or correcting me. I wasn’t put on this earth to live like a bird in a cage; somehow, there has always been the need to break free. Turns out the good Lord had blessed me with a photographic memory and I ended up following the same path to the elementary school my older brother went to. From my bicycle seat, I had memorized the entire route whilst figuring out a shortcut with my built-in compass. However, I was presented with a small challenge. In those days, the municipality was digging a huge canal straight through the village establishing new suburbs. Builders had left a timber beam across the still dry canal at a height of about six yards.

  Step-by-step my little feet slide forward, the muddy bottom ready to gorge my tiny existence. When the timber starts to tremble, I hesitate for a second. Quickly overcoming my anxiety, I finally reach the other side. While relishing in this personal triumph my poor mother is wiping the sweat from her brow. Where can her little boy be? He’s nowhere to be found. Expecting the worst, hastened feet stride to the dike to see whether I’m floating face-down in the lake, or drowned in one of the many surrounding watery trenches. Neighbors notice her state of panic and within minutes the whole block is searching along with my mother. The fear of any parent became a reality for her – her toddler was missing!

  Many fretful hours pass until teachers at the elementary school notice an unfamiliar whipper-snapper contentedly minding his own business in the sandpit. Convinced of my innocence I was reunited with the home front later that day. I suppose it’s fair to say that it has always been in my blood and this independent mission was the genesis of many more to come.

  * * *

  I am sure you have seen them, those guys with patches of flags of all the countries they have visited sewn onto their bags. Of course, backpacking is not necessarily a new thing. These days, expanding your opportunities is rather the thing to do in a world that is getting smaller and smaller – perhaps now more than ever. The popularity of backpacking has increased thanks to slick travel magazines and a surplus of flashy television programs. Also, let us not forget that due to social media, outdoor stores have seen their net revenues doubled. Ever since the number of millennials striving to visit the wonders of the world in record time, in order to fill their travel blogs and Instagram pages, it has skyrocketed. Many youngsters will usually travel as much as they can before rushing back for their master’s degree for a discipline they will never get a job for. Still, the need to extricate from the mandated matrix is flourishing. Not to mention the new generation of bracelet-braiding hippies; zoned out on the sidewalks by excessive drug use, trying to make a buck selling those bracelets that were already tacky in the stone age, or playing a few cords on sticker-covered guitars, with uncut strings.

  But no judgment here – to each his own. Everyone has their own path to walk. Some of us prefer to look and smell like a homeless person, which I’m not foreign to myself. It’s all about letting go of the conventional to unleash that shackled inner self, but what does it really mean to visit another country and ingest an abstract language, eat unknown food and dwell in the midst of a culture with such different habits, morals and values? Surely, hanging out in hostels all day doesn’t teach you much of the place.

  Friends ask “How is your holiday going?” But make no mistake. To me a holiday is – relaxing or active – being surrounded by comfort and security, having your primary needs within reach. To experience the essence of traveling, or true backpacking if you will, one must think in terms of lacking those primary needs.

  How about having ice cold showers for a few months? Do you know what that does to a human body or human spirit? Could you handle not having a good sponge for days on end, being dirty and having stinky clothes? Not knowing where you will sleep at night, if at all, or having to find shelter against the freezing air or a sudden downpour? Are you up for making judgment calls in an unsafe area with potential robbers watching you? In addition, you may also have to deal with a hungry pack of dogs who don’t look very friendly. Sometimes, in urban or inhabited areas, you may have to hold number one and number two for hours before finding a bathroom. And once it is found… there is no paper. Furthermore, searching for a decent meal means that sometimes you may have to deal with an empty stomach for hours before finding anything edible.

  How do you communicate your desires if no one understands what you’re saying? Believe me, in many places locals don’t even know the word for ‘water’ in English. Imagine that situation when you’re dying of thirst the whole day. Did your colleagues who asked how the holiday was going think about travel insurance? Or how to deal with a stolen passport? Or how to act when your wallet is empty and no one has heard of an ATM, or where to arrange transport if you’re on your own in a remote place? Or how to find gasoline with zero gas stations around for miles and miles, and what the hell are miles anyway when you are used to counting in kilometers? Probably the worst thing for most people is the lack of internet for a while, and by that I’m not talking about a mere couple of hours. Not being able to navigate, make travel plans online or communicate with family and friends can be difficult obstacles to overcome. Another often-neglected issue is the culture shock one experiences when going back home. How do you reintegrate into society when you were subject to such a different lifestyle, or when you simply don’t have a home to return to? If you go abroad for weeks, months, or years, only one thing has significantly changed when you come back, and that is you.

  Okay, now we�
��re starting to get the hang of it. There are indeed quite a few strings attached to traveling. Having said that, it’s clear that no one would go into the wild if the hardships weren’t worth it. You can end up being astounded by the beauty of multi-colored mountains sitting 12,000 feet above sea level, dwell in the sheer awe of deserts as far as the eye can see or, a place teeming with wildlife that makes you feel truly one with nature – this is your deserved reward. Who can resist jaw-dropping sunrises over ancient geometrical buildings in overgrown jungles, meeting indigenous people in traditional clothing along the way? Who doesn’t dream of white sandy beaches beneath a cloudless sky, indulging in warm temperatures surrounded by coconut-filled palm trees when diving in turquoise lagoons?

  Traveling reveals the true meaning of the word recreation. If you allow me to speak for most of the others like me, that’s exactly why we do it. In addition, the opportunity for experiencing personal growth is unprecedented and the knowledge you gain is a gift for the rest of your life as well as for others along the way, the enjoyment of which becomes an everlasting memory.

  On more than one occasion, people have told me that I am on the run. In their minds I’m fleeing from something or at least have certain issues for all this pavement chasing. The truth, which apparently some find hard to understand, is that sometimes I just want to see a country! I have this unquenchable curiosity and undying interest in the unexplored. When I am home for too long, if such a thing exists at all, I get homesick for adventure. Is the longing to learn my drug? Maybe it is, but man do I feel alive while being on the move.

  Another figurative vertebral column was strengthened in the year 1992. Having crossed several borders my family and I end up in the vicinity of charming Luxembourg. Still a boy at this point of my life I remember the fresh smells of yellow knee-high grass fields, with the brightness of the midday summer sun making our eyes pinch as I French-kiss a girl for the first time. Although this memory sticks with me as unforgettable, the next event sticks out even more.

  Amidst the Ardennes, a rugged yet gorgeous mountain range, the campground where we were staying at facilitated a nightly dropping. Meaning they would kick us out of a van in the middle of nowhere where we sat blindfolded, only for us to find our way back to the campground again. Arguably the only adventurous thing my parents ever did, they decide to take my brother and me to join the group which existed of approximately seventy people. Once started we march for hours through dense forest, with only a dynamo torch as our source of light. The brave men walk at the front, unknowingly leading us away from our destination by many miles, and encumbered by testosterone it takes a while before they admit we are utterly lost. Take note, this is in an era well before the invention of smartphones and the like. Increasingly concerned, clammy faces stare at the road map, with many women now seemingly worried for the wellbeing of their children as exhaustion and dehydration seeps in. Just when the threatening night seems to lure us further into the wrong direction, a twelve-year-old lad addresses the men claiming to know the way. “I know exactly where we are!” he says. Being more proud than brave, the men harden their hearts and don’t want anything to do with him. Contrary to feeling like a loner, or an outsider even, it has always been remarkably easy for me to connect with others. It so happened that newly-acquainted friends and I had spent a previous week and a half together continuously scouring the woods. Due to my natural tendency to memorize things, I knew every rock, every bush and every trail like the back of my hand. After a lengthy game of persuasion, they eventually follow my lead with the whole group on my tail. Whether with certainty or doubt, they still follow me, bringing an incredible smile to my face. Maybe more like a smirk.

  Suddenly I had a voice, something that would never have happened had I chosen to stay at home. Now I had given them hope to make it back to their own beds and be reunited with their loved ones left behind at the campground. All those adults placing their trust into the hands of a child is a feeling I’ll never forget. I will likewise never forget the look on the brave men’s faces as I safely returned everyone back to civilization. Those humbled looks and proud mouths silenced, I cherish like trophies on the mantelpiece. Forevermore, priceless.

  Cliché memes say that life is a book – if you don’t travel you only read the first page – and in this case, I will have to agree with that. Once, while working at a disorganized woodpile in the state of Missouri, I made some cash by dismantling old pallets. Here I asked a Chicago resident if he also liked to barbecue on the lakeside back home, since it was crowded as heck there in the summertime. He replied: “What lake?” In reality, he’d never skipped beyond that first page, therefore missing out on so much splendor. Being over thirty the good man spent his whole life in the city and had never seen Lake Michigan, despite it being right under his nose!

  Another question that I often get is: “How do you finance all of this?” People have to understand that it’s about priorities and sometimes sacrifices. Going to your favorite restaurant every week is not helping if you want to travel, nor is following the latest, ever-changing fashion trends. As for me, I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, and the biggest money saver might be the fact that as of yet I don’t have kids. Also, I don’t care about extravagant houses, cars and all kinds of worldly possessions. I have everything arranged pretty well for the small company I own, being a general contractor, but that’s it. These are mere investments to fill the piggy bank. That proverbial piggy bank gets smashed to pieces by the first good idea that pops up to hit the road. Transforming these ideas into actually stuffing my backpack and going is unimaginable for some, yet so easy for me.

  I remember seeing my parents’ bedroom as a child. Weeks before the start of our summer holiday my mom would already have opened up suitcases on the floor. Accompanied by a long, handwritten checklist, filling them until they almost wouldn't close anymore. Nowadays, I gather my stuff literally an hour before I leave and as far as I know, I have never forgotten anything. Unfortunately, airline or bus companies have lost my luggage quite a few times, and while it’s no fun you always find a way to manage. Ultimately, making your dreams come true is what it’s all about. I hope that this book will allow you to see how my ideas and dreams became reality. Sometimes a little too close to the matter.

  In a no-nonsense, unexaggerated way I tried my best to tell it as it happened. Not only do I have a very good memory but I always keep a journal to maintain track of my travels. These recollections, thoughts and emotions aren’t loosely based on events, they are actual events that eventually turned into the fine copy you hold in your hands right now. Compare it to a logbook with infotainment. In this volume, you will be treated to stories of my time in Asia, the Middle East and a slim slice of Africa and Europe.

  You may find it easy to understand why most things are still so vivid to me. Hopefully, you develop a chronic itch as I have because there is a lot of beauty out there. But even if traveling never becomes your thing you might enjoy reading about the situations I got myself into and perhaps you may learn a thing or two, or be appalled by a thing or three.

  If you decide to give it a try, remember that borders exist to be crossed, and boundaries to be vindicated. Society has convinced itself that a mere two weeks’ vacation a year should do the trick, and people accept it as the norm. I don’t know about you but I refuse to settle for that mindset. No matter the circumstances, I’m always good to go!

  * * *

  A quick disclaimer here. Let me state that I’m not a huge fan of a thing called political correctness. However, by no means is it my intention to offend anyone. Regardless of race, gender, ethnicity, religion or background, I treat everyone the same and all people are of equal value to me. Just so you know!

  1

  Switzerland

  An unrecognizable face, black and blue, covered in scratch marks, skin violently ripped away with blood gushing out from her head, pouring into the cracks of the sharp surrounding rocks. The limbs are twisted unnaturally, bones are bruise
d and broken, rotator cuff and even hip joints crushed. At an altitude of over 8,200 feet, the only thing breaking the silence is the wind, howling through the crisp cold air. Snow interspersed with a freezing drizzle; the temperature, just like the chances of survival, is dropping below zero. Will the Swiss Alps claim another victim tonight?

  While dusk morphs into darkness there’s little hope for this seemingly already lifeless body. While I hold the unconscious body of my best friend’s sister in my arms I can feel her pulse dropping away as if the soul had surrendered, begging to let her go. Completely in shock and overwhelmed by confusion I can’t get the image out of my mind: seeing a loved one falling down seventy yards, slamming into the mountain’s jaws with devouring greed, even tearing up her clothes. An emergency blanket alone won’t provide enough warmth, so I cover her with my jacket and soft-shell, even laying on top of her to keep the vital organs going. As I try to think of ways to carry the girl down the mountain, her body temperature is dropping below 32 degrees Celsius. In an area unknown to us despair awaits. How am I ever going to get her out of here?

  * * *

  A few days ago, everyone was really looking forward to this holiday abroad in the autumn. Or, should I say (in a fitting manner) in the fall? A long anticipated and well-deserved break from the already worrisome times. Family friends from the Netherlands had rented a cabin in the heights of the green hills which was on the verge of losing its luster on account of the season. Of partial Swiss descent, they were planning to visit some old relatives nearby. What a coincidence, as I had planned to climb the Jungfrau and Matterhorn, two of the many scenic snow-capped mountains the neutral gem of Switzerland has to offer. To kill two birds with one stone the idea is born to spend some time together before going our separate ways again.