6 YEARS TRAVELING THE WORLD AND A TINY SPANISH VILLAGE RUINS TRAVEL FOR ME

Coliiv

Summer was fun.

Nowhere Festival (The Spanish version of Burning Man). Four weeks in a van through Sardinia and Sicily visiting friends and cool rural projects. And the rest of the Summer with family and friends between the Basque Country and Cantabria: surfing, bbqs, concerts...

And still, cant wait to be back home in the pueblo.

In my twenties, adventure was the whole plan. I spent 6 years as a nomad.

Had to renew my passport twice because there was no room left for stamps. I got my skydiving license. Surfed the longest wave on the planet. Climbed volcanoes. Sat through retreats in remote monasteries and danced at exotic festivals. Ate bizarre food I can't name. And lived intense romantic relationships.

I was chasing the next hit. More movement, more stimulus.

Then my cup started overflowing. I couldn't hold any more experiences, let alone feel them properly. I felt unable to be present and absorve the magic of the moment I was living.

I realised exploring is essential for me. 

To try different business ideas, different sports, different partners. To open the rainbow of possibilities and find what actually sticks. Nomadism was my exploration phase. And I lived it hard. 

Then I burned through it. And I realized it also has an expiration date.

What I craved then was depth. In a place. In relationships. In a project. In something that would leave a mark instead of a memory.

That gut feeling became Rooral 6 years ago. A way to unify those cravings for belonging.

But Rooral wasn't built the way it looks today. 

The first idea was a pop-up model, where different villages became Temporary Coliving Coworkings and hosted remote work stays. One month in one village, another month in another one.

We tried it. Then we noticed something: we'd built Rooral to stop moving. And here we were. Still moving.

That is when Benarrabá became our permanent base. Our home. 

It had all the ingredients we were looking for. Open and innovative community, amazing infraestructure for remote work and marvellous nature.

Living here the past years has brought me profound learnings. Things I never expected: 

Getting a masters degree on how to build trust with a village. Live and eat attuned with the seasons. How to work with my hands: from weaving my own basket to obtaining my olive oil. Breaking friendship barriers, by becoming friends with a mayor and abuelas in their 80s. Joining a digital firegoats project. Realizing the bubble I grew up in. Or even how to deal with international visibility (We recently appeared in Conde Nast Traveller magazine)

But the most powerful lesson is one. 

To widen the range of what I feel. Of my emotions.

I now notice more depth in values.

For example community. I thought I understood it (I have always considered myself I am a very community oriented person).

Then I saw how this village sends people off when they die, carried on the shoulders of everyone who loved them. How they leave their doors open till their last day. BTW, when was the last time you went to a funeral to say bye? Here, sadly and beautifully we go every 3 weeks.

Or think about the last time you showed up at a neighbor's or friend´s door without calling first. Here in the village, every time.

Someone dropping off vegetables from their garden for no reason. A neighbour picking up my packages, watering my plants when I'm away or calling me to inform me I left my car lights on.

The Pueblo has expanded what actually "community" value means to me.

And it has done so with other key values for me: Generosity. Loyalty. Nature. Curiosity. Commitment. Care.

It has nurtured my roots.

And right now Benarrabá isn't only locals who've lived in this valley their whole lives. It's also colivers from all over the world, curious about these same values, staying for around a month.

So now I do not need to travel the world to see it. These colivers joining the pueblo bring it to me.

They're the branches on my tree.

Roots from the pueblo. Branches from everywhere else.

A rare mix hard to find. So hard that we had to create it.

This whole process has made my Ikigai clear to me.

Connecting people who've lived a completely different lives. To break bubbles and build bridges.

That's now the real adventure and growth to me.

So yes. This summer was incredible.

But nothing beats coming from holidays, park the car at the pueblo parking and walk the 200 meters to home.

That walk normally takes me at least 3-4 hours. Neighbours see me and ask enthusiastically about Summer and family. I ask them too. And some invite me for a hot chocolate, others for a pastry… You can´t say no.

That is what it takes to be part of a community.

Reminding me that without roots, there are no wings.

And without wings you can´t totally choose your roots.

See you in the pueblo. Or in the next newsletter.

With pueblo optimism,

Juan

PS: If you're someone who's forgotten the art of knocking on a neighbor's door, we've got a link for you that explains how it's done in the pueblo. Here, we do it every day.