It started out as one of the hardest days we´ve had. It was hot-SO hot, and we ended up going through a 993m pass that wasn´t on our map, and of course we rode through it right in the hottest part of the day. The road took us through endless hayfields with no shade in sight, not even a ditch to hide in, just sun, pavement, and hay. We finally found a small square of shady relief behind a highway sign and sat there, in the dirt, waiting for our bodies to cool down to a somewhat normal temperature.
After hours of pedaling and sweating we topped out the pass and rolled down the other side, into a little place called Casablanca. It´s one of those ¨don´t blink or you´ll miss it¨ towns, with only a boarded up gas station and a restaurant between the entering and leaving signs. We desperately needed water, but were too tired to figure out how to ask to fill up our bottles, so decided to head into the restaurant for a beer instead.
When we ordered the beers, the owner gave us a concerned look, and managed to convey that he didn´t want us drinking and driving. I said ¨no, bicicletta!¨, and pointed outside, to which he let out a huge knee-slapping uproar of a laugh, did a little charade dance of riding a bike drunk, and slapped two beers down on the bar, still chuckling. Seeing that we were pretty wrecked, he also brought us some bread and meat to munch on. When we devoured the first plate, he immediately brought a second, this time staying a bit to ¨chat¨.
I say ¨chat¨ because between Steve and myself, we probably know about 5-10 random words in spanish-things like bathroom, bread, beer, danger, and exit, which isn´t alot to go on. Juan (as we later found out was the name of the owner) knew even less english. But that didn´t stop him from engaging us in a very animated pseudo-conversation, much of which he spent trying to teach us some spanish. We managed to introduce ourselves, tell him where we were from, and where we were going, and he in turn told us about his farm, the animals on it, and the members of his family. I think maybe they don´t get many tourists through their neck of the woods, so we were a bit of a novelty, and he was totally happy to entertain us all night.
At one point, we figured it was getting late, and we needed to push on and find a place to pitch a tent for the night. Once he figured out we were camping, he essentially wouldn´t let us leave, instead dropping two more beers on the table- ¨from me to you¨ and plying us with more food. Suddenly we were presented with giant plates of grilled meat, delicious olives, cured ham straight off the leg of the pig, and piles of vegetables. He topped the feast off with some whiskey in tea, all the while listing off the spanish names for everything we were eating. In the end, as much as we tried to pay him, he would only accept a fraction of what I imagine the entire night was worth!
Eventually, as the night was winding down, we asked if there was a place we could pitch the tent, figuring he had a section of field somewhere. Not likely! Instead, he led us into the back of the restaurant to a little room with freshly made beds and an onsuite bathroom. Sometimes, misprounouncing ¨thank you¨ in another language just isn´t enough to convey just how much you appreciate something.
In the morning, we went back into the restaurant for some coffee before continuing on our way. Juan´s wife was busy prepping food and tapas for the day, and Juan was nowhere to be found. We waited around a bit, but the road was calling.... and eventually we needed to keep riding. We didn´t really get to say a proper goodbye (which likely would have involved many more misprounounced ¨thank yous¨) but we did leave a loonie on the counter, hoping they would get the message and have a little canadian trinket to remember us by.
That night was a good example of everything I love about travelling... the unexpected twists and turns, and the way you can have such a great time with someone without speaking the same language or living in the same world. And it´s a great reminder how genuinely nice people can be without expecting anything in return. If anyone ever finds themselves in Restaurante Casablanca.... drop in and say hi to Juan, and say hi from us too!
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