"Consider it a veteran's discount...in Spain...from a German."
Part of the appeal of AirBnB is meeting hosts. In Lisbon, I saw Daniel for 120 seconds over the course of three days, which was fine. But for some reason, his roommate was always in the shower at the most inopportune times...even in the middle of the day. In Seville, the host's only local dining recommendation led me to a beer joint that was seemingly never open. I was stood up by a host in rural Spain, and that led me to Finca Vegana, a small farm and bed and breakfast outside of Zahara.
As it's the off-season, the property was all but moth-balled. Because I'd made the reservation ten minutes before arriving, desperate for a roof before an intense evening storm would roll in, they weren't expecting me. I interrupted the host, who was enjoying a late evening cigarette and some camaraderie with other guests living out of travel vans. Sacha, an outgoing and very hospitable German man, showed interest in my trip and quickly built a fire in my cabin. He and his wife spent the necessary amount of time acquainting me with the small room and common areas. There were no other guests, so the common areas soon became my areas, and the contents of the Green's luggage exploded like popcorn throughout the room. I just wanted to talk on FaceTime and edit the latest drone footage, so I was likely not warm to Sacha. The next morning, he entered the cabin as I packed my gear…
“So…you served in the Army…for six years…” How did he know this? Memories of Bud Meade in the Wal-Mart parking lot on day one flooded my mind.
“Yes…how did you know?”
"You're a veteran, I'm very honored to have you here." I myself was appreciative of his support, but this didn't feel remotely normal. Vets traveling in uniform will catch a stare in the US, but seldom such accolades.
“I read your website from South America…you’ve seen a lot of places. Those roads in Peru,and the mudslide in Colombia!” I’d totally forgotten what level of detail the old blog included.
We launched into a lengthy conversation about world travels and his past. He’d served in the German Army and training with the US Army left a lasting impression on him. "I used to think we were good, and then we met with the Americans…and we were like kindergartners. I wished so badly that I could have joined a military more like that…” A truck driver and logistics coordinator, Sacha had valued his experience but longed for more. I'd recently spent time with Germans in similar training and quickly concluded they must have come a long way in recent years.
He asked about my time in Iraq, and I lamented. I've internalized Colonel Everett Spain's perfect response, which he'd shared with me years ago. ES continues to be a pillar of leadership in my life. He'd tell me, "Smile, say thank you, and state, 'It was an honor to lead Soldiers. I wish I had done more. Thank those who continue to be in harms way.'" That sums it up.
I joked with Sasha, "It was a lifetime ago. See, you can’t even tell by my hair anymore…it's so long.”
“Mine, too!” We laughed. His was clearly longer.
Early in their marriage, Sacha and his wife road-tripped the United States, traveling coast-to-coast and up the Pacific Coast Highway after spending a good amount of time in Texas. They fell in love with the culture and opened a saloon in northern Germany, modeling it after Texas honky-tonks. They then spent eight years in the “visa lottery,” hoping to relocate to the US and open a similar business but would eventually settle on hosting travelers in this beautiful Spanish outback. He really got a kick out of my Texas license plate and wouldn’t be satisfied without lining it up to his (fake) license plate on his old Dodge truck.
“I love German vehicles, like your motorcycle…but I’d take an American product any day of the week. I love a Harley-Davidson.” His genuine pride in the American dream and our iconic symbols of freedom was greater than that of a majority of US citizens. Think of how quickly we'd pivot to a foreign vehicle for any given reason, and he'd brought his Dodge Ram back with him.
We discussed the recent uncertainties for immigrants, given the polarizing changes in the administration, and you could see the sadness on his face. He'd realized his chances would be growing even more slim. Seems he didn’t look to our leadership as role models on the international stage anymore. I’d seen this months before while working in Australia, but it really hit home this time.
Sacha insisted on providing me a free breakfast and refunding a portion of the lodging charge. As if building me a fire, preparing my room, serving hand-picked walnuts from his orchard, and graciously offering many other services wasn't enough, he left money on the counter for me. He sleeps in a trailer on the property while I gallivant around on a high-end motorcycle. Truly humbling.
Sacha smiled, “Consider it a veteran’s discount…in Spain…from a German.”
