Today it is over a week since I returned from the greatest adventure of my life, a 800km walk across Spain (Camino de Santiago). it was fantastic, amazing, madness and hard work, it contained within its every moment just the sort of inspiring material that would be perfect for up to date blogging… unfortunately I have never blogged before nor did I really want to at the time as fun was at the forefront of my daily routine and considering only 10 pages of the Te of Piglet got read over that month and a half period, I doubt very much I would have had time (or made time) to blog.
So with that nonsensical introduction to this moment we arrive here, the NOW which currently involves me attempting to find witty ways of sharing with you, kind person who has taken time to read this. Since returning home from Spain and leaving my short lived but intensely close Camino family the true impact of that adventure is setting in. Before leaving I had become extremely sensible, polite and inoffensive as a person, peacefully doing little to avoid and dramas, the events of my life had worn me out and as a person I was most disappointing if truth be told.
Now I have two, yes two dreadlocks, a new tattoo and a f**k it mentality, not to mention some rather pleasant hippie pants with a crotch that joins somewhere around my knees. Walking around my home town feels very strange and personally I feel quite out of place, I sense a kind of ‘chip on the ol shoulder’ vibe from more than a few folk. The first night I got home I was still not sober from Santiago so left the house with some haste to meet my brother and others for a drink in town, little did I know the students had all left my little university city for the summer leaving only the locals to crowd the bars… don’t get me wrong we native to Lancaster have plenty of character once you get to know us but that can take some effort to chisel your way past the unfriendly glares and loud gestures.
I suddenly missed Spain, the culture that at first had seemed so strange to me, ‘Spanish time’ we called it, the rate at which things got done over there, ‘it would be done when it was done’ and woe betide anyone needing something done between the hours of the famous siesta (somewhere around lunch and the time you feel tired and want to sleep). Yet as we acclimatized to this new pace of life it became more than just charming it became everything, the Spanish know how to enjoy life while still living it fully, cake for breakfast, big lunch with wine and a sleep before more wine, it was fantastic! I still remember walking around Pamplona at 11pm and watching as people of all ages, families with children and amazed tourists sat around the streets drinking eloquently.
In the UK ‘sat around on the streets’ and ‘drinking eloquently’ seem like two polar opposites one could never imagine but the Spanish were happy and nobody was fighting or shouting obnoxious slurs to passers-by, everything felt completely normal and safe! There were lessons to be learnt from this culture I realised when I returned to hordes of unhappy stressed looking British workers whose solutions to their woes involved getting smashed as fast and as hard as possible on weekends before returning to the maddening grind. I feel for my home country and its people who beneath the hard shells are beautiful characters full of eccentric lovableness, take a break and enjoy life for a moment, before it pulls you under.
Anyway this first post is more of an experiment than anything, to see if I can get the hang of this blogging game because now I feel like writing, after what has happened to me of late I know somewhere (you know that place where you really really just know) that change has come to me. However this manifests (currently with constant walks, cycles, visits to coffee shops, cooking, pubs and dreams) I want to share it with anyone who wants cares to read it.
Thanks if you have by the way 🙂