Well. It's been awhile, just a little while since my last post. Somewhere along the way internet went from being inconvenient to almost non-existent. Internet along with kitchenware. But thats a long story.
I finished the camino on April 30, after 33 days. Some people were happy to arrive, some so happy tears appeared, for some it was just a stop over on their way to Finisterra. Others arrived, sat in front of the cathedral, swore, and realized that now they had to figure out what the hell they were going to do next. I'm not sure where exactly I fit in amongst those descriptions. I don't think that I am completely done digesting the experience.
I was thinking that since I didn't have much time or energy to write during the camino, in a few days when I have more time, I might start blogging backwards and recount some of my adventures. We'll see.
But for now, I have a train to catch.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Characters del Camino
You may be wondering....what kind of people do this camino thing? I wondered the same thing. Here are some of the characters I have met :
There is the middle aged Englishman who wears his hair long and comes from a hippy village in the countryside. He has incredibly long limbs, he literally takes one step for each of my two. But he is probably the most relaxed pilgrim I have met so far. He isn´t here to race or prove anything, he's here to meditate. He works as a horticultural therapist.
My American born small town Michigan friend who now lives and works in London wears pink everyday. She is the easiest person to spot from far away. The pink and the laugh will give her away for miles. ( reminds me a lot of someone else I know back at home....) She loves anyone who will drink with her. She is convinced that after the camino she could write a book entitled "Pub Crawl Across Spain (el camino de Santiago)"
The Australian Girl walks ridiculously fast, we thought for sure we would never see her again, except that she slowed down because she doesnt have enough money to be travelling and not be on el camino. It´s hard for her to go slow. A 20 km day is just too boring. She is trying to walk slower. You think that wouldn´t be hard since half the time she walks in a dress.
The Brit that was carrying a cricket bat, wearing a sherlock holmes hat, and was accompanied by 7 stuffed animals didn´t make it to far. His book would have to be entitled "The attempted Pub Crawl Across Spain ...."
There is a guy who is travelling around making balloon animals. I haven´t met him yet, I just always find balloon animals in the albergues. He´s somewhere ahead of me.
I met the first dog of the camino the other day. He has his own back pack and tent and his travelling with a man from Mexico City.
Naked German Guy is 74 years old. Don´t worry, he doesn´t actually walk naked but has earned that nickname since he seems to have no problem at all walking around the albergues in only his underwear. Long conversations can be had with him wearing only his underwear.
Crazy Hat German Guy is really entertaining and always cracking jokes. He decided the other day to leave his hat behind at one of the crosses as it was a present from an ex girlfriend and he decided that it was time to move on. Unfortunately someone recognized the hat, picked it up, and returned it to him the same evening. I´m not sure if that´s supposed to mean something ......
The Never dying Quebecois. This guy is just living up life. He has survived a sky diving accident where his parachute did not open, a scuba diving accident that put him in a coma for 2 weeks, and a car accident that left him paralyzed until he had a high risk surgery and can now walk again. Wow. Are Canadians tough or what?
There is also the 20 year old Quebec guy from Montreal who has pretty much run away from home to disappear in Europe. He eats chocolate for breakfast. The other day he ate a microwavable lasagna after carrying it around in his bag for 2 days. He can always find the cheaper option.
The Danish Anthropologists are Univeristy students doing their field work on the camino. They fight like an old married couple and hope to still be friends by the end of this.
German farmer guy is in is 60´s but this is his first time leaving Germany. He only speaks German but still manages to have conversations with old Spanish men that only speak Spanish. An Austrian and I were trying to translate for them but they just seemed annoyed, like we were butting in. We just thought they would want to know that they were not talking about the same things.
There is an old Danish man who is surprisingly fast and spends hours every afternoon writing done everything that happens so that he can retell it all to his wife when he gets home.
And well..... there are more but I have run out of time! Observing all the people here kind of makes me wonder how I fit in....
Tonight I am in Leon. The last week has been spent in flat wild west land. I´m looking forward to the moutains again even if it does mean walking up!
There is the middle aged Englishman who wears his hair long and comes from a hippy village in the countryside. He has incredibly long limbs, he literally takes one step for each of my two. But he is probably the most relaxed pilgrim I have met so far. He isn´t here to race or prove anything, he's here to meditate. He works as a horticultural therapist.
My American born small town Michigan friend who now lives and works in London wears pink everyday. She is the easiest person to spot from far away. The pink and the laugh will give her away for miles. ( reminds me a lot of someone else I know back at home....) She loves anyone who will drink with her. She is convinced that after the camino she could write a book entitled "Pub Crawl Across Spain (el camino de Santiago)"
The Australian Girl walks ridiculously fast, we thought for sure we would never see her again, except that she slowed down because she doesnt have enough money to be travelling and not be on el camino. It´s hard for her to go slow. A 20 km day is just too boring. She is trying to walk slower. You think that wouldn´t be hard since half the time she walks in a dress.
The Brit that was carrying a cricket bat, wearing a sherlock holmes hat, and was accompanied by 7 stuffed animals didn´t make it to far. His book would have to be entitled "The attempted Pub Crawl Across Spain ...."
There is a guy who is travelling around making balloon animals. I haven´t met him yet, I just always find balloon animals in the albergues. He´s somewhere ahead of me.
I met the first dog of the camino the other day. He has his own back pack and tent and his travelling with a man from Mexico City.
Naked German Guy is 74 years old. Don´t worry, he doesn´t actually walk naked but has earned that nickname since he seems to have no problem at all walking around the albergues in only his underwear. Long conversations can be had with him wearing only his underwear.
Crazy Hat German Guy is really entertaining and always cracking jokes. He decided the other day to leave his hat behind at one of the crosses as it was a present from an ex girlfriend and he decided that it was time to move on. Unfortunately someone recognized the hat, picked it up, and returned it to him the same evening. I´m not sure if that´s supposed to mean something ......
The Never dying Quebecois. This guy is just living up life. He has survived a sky diving accident where his parachute did not open, a scuba diving accident that put him in a coma for 2 weeks, and a car accident that left him paralyzed until he had a high risk surgery and can now walk again. Wow. Are Canadians tough or what?
There is also the 20 year old Quebec guy from Montreal who has pretty much run away from home to disappear in Europe. He eats chocolate for breakfast. The other day he ate a microwavable lasagna after carrying it around in his bag for 2 days. He can always find the cheaper option.
The Danish Anthropologists are Univeristy students doing their field work on the camino. They fight like an old married couple and hope to still be friends by the end of this.
German farmer guy is in is 60´s but this is his first time leaving Germany. He only speaks German but still manages to have conversations with old Spanish men that only speak Spanish. An Austrian and I were trying to translate for them but they just seemed annoyed, like we were butting in. We just thought they would want to know that they were not talking about the same things.
There is an old Danish man who is surprisingly fast and spends hours every afternoon writing done everything that happens so that he can retell it all to his wife when he gets home.
And well..... there are more but I have run out of time! Observing all the people here kind of makes me wonder how I fit in....
Tonight I am in Leon. The last week has been spent in flat wild west land. I´m looking forward to the moutains again even if it does mean walking up!
Friday, April 15, 2011
Half way!
I´m sorry for those trying to follow my pilgrimage, I´m just often too tired to try and find internet.... the other day I walked 40 km. I was very proud of myself, must say. I´m still having an amazing time and I had a wonderful Birthday, I am no longer the youngest pilgrim! There is a guy from Quebec who is 20, and I´m 21!
Only 395 km left until Santiago!
Only 395 km left until Santiago!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Sun sun go away so I can walk 100 k
I forgot one of the best highlights. In almost evey town you can find a "pilgrim menu" at the bars and restaurants. The menu is usually around nine euros and includes a starter, main course, dessert, water, bread, and RED WINE. I love Spain. The wine helps you fall asleep fast to avoid hearing your fellow pilgrims snore.
I got lost again. Maybe this isn´t surprising. BUT, I also had one day where I went off route to go to this beautiful abbey and didn´t get lost. I figure one cancels out the other.
Off route wasn´t even really that far off route, I even found an English pilgrim that wanted to brave leaving the safety of the yellow arrows with me. We were both very glad we did. We got to the Abbey and asked about going to the morning mass, assuming it was in the church. The spaniard at the ticket counter smiled and shook his head saying that the nuns were very old and the church was far too cold for them. He led us to a small room where we were allowed to sit in the back on the wooden pews and pray with the nuns who were seated up front. After about 10 min. the priest came in and started a tiny mass. ( I don´t think it was actually mass, i think its called something else....but my catholic education is lacking..) They started singing. You may be imagiining something phenomanal and angelic, but in reality it was 5 very old women singing in cracked devoted voices with the deep voice of the priest in the background. It wasn´t angelic, but it was very touching. After they prayed with the priest praying a prayer for us in the background.
Later we entered the icily cold church. It was the most splendidly lit stone cathedral that I have ever seen. Instead of being made of stained glass, the numerous windows were made of alabaster stone which made the whole inside glow with white light. It was glorious.
The next day, after having so much success not following the yellow arrows, my feet decided to keep up the same routine. An American girl and I sent off in the morning from Santo Domingo. There was a total of 7 km to the next tiny village of Granon. We were talking and walking, talking and walking. After awhile someone commented on the lack of the yellow arrows. We complained as how they are becoming more scarce the farther along th camino we go. A little bit farther I pointed out a village, saying that that must be Granon. The only problem was it was up the mountain. "But I thought we were done with mountains for awhile..." You would think that we would consult the map at this point, but no, we just changed the subject. A little bit further a car passed us, stopped, the driver rolled down his window and shook his finger at us, crap, we´re lost. He drew us a map and we ended up not being that far gone, but it was hot, Jackie´s feet were in pain and I was just feeling very unexplainably weak. We took a break at the bar in Granon at 10 am. We found ourselves at the same bar at 4 am the next morning with an Irishman, Spaniard, Brazilian, Latvian, and Swede. Don´t worry, we did venture away to explore our albergue for the night - the annex building/bell tower of the village church, our hosts being the Spaniard and Brazilian that helped us try the local drink specialties late into the night.
I am aware that my blog is making it sound like I drink a lot on this pilgrimage. BUT as our hosts last night pointed out, it was customary for the churches to provide pilgrims with wine to help them along their journey. We are just trying to be historically accurate.
p.s In case I am not being completely understood with my el camino language - along the camino there are constatnly yellow arrows and shells( the symbol of the camino) pointing out the direction to go. If you are thinking it must be hard to get lost when all you have to do is follow arrows, you are probably right. I have a habit of accomplishing the impossible.
An albergue is like a youth hostel only you have to be a pilgrim to stay in them as they are very cheap. We have little pilgrim passports that get stamped along the way to prove that we are a pilgrim. The albergues vary greatly. The one we stayed in last night is a parish albergue that is run entirely on donations and provides a shared meal and prayer if you wish to participate. Then you have the brand new albergues that are characterless and more like hotels with every kind of albergue you can imagine in between. One night I stayed in a private albergue that was someone´s town house with rented out rooms, another was in a little tiny traditional house run by a dutch christian couple. Tonight´s albergue is more like a resort - only terrible. At least there is internet.
Well after some lazy days I really have to get up early tomorrow and walk at least 25 km. Jackie and I have decided that we can´t walk together, we can meet up at the end of the day but if we walk together we just end oup stopping and staying. We say we´ll make up for it in the meseta and walk 40 km a day. We´ll see how that goes........buenas noches!
I got lost again. Maybe this isn´t surprising. BUT, I also had one day where I went off route to go to this beautiful abbey and didn´t get lost. I figure one cancels out the other.
Off route wasn´t even really that far off route, I even found an English pilgrim that wanted to brave leaving the safety of the yellow arrows with me. We were both very glad we did. We got to the Abbey and asked about going to the morning mass, assuming it was in the church. The spaniard at the ticket counter smiled and shook his head saying that the nuns were very old and the church was far too cold for them. He led us to a small room where we were allowed to sit in the back on the wooden pews and pray with the nuns who were seated up front. After about 10 min. the priest came in and started a tiny mass. ( I don´t think it was actually mass, i think its called something else....but my catholic education is lacking..) They started singing. You may be imagiining something phenomanal and angelic, but in reality it was 5 very old women singing in cracked devoted voices with the deep voice of the priest in the background. It wasn´t angelic, but it was very touching. After they prayed with the priest praying a prayer for us in the background.
Later we entered the icily cold church. It was the most splendidly lit stone cathedral that I have ever seen. Instead of being made of stained glass, the numerous windows were made of alabaster stone which made the whole inside glow with white light. It was glorious.
The next day, after having so much success not following the yellow arrows, my feet decided to keep up the same routine. An American girl and I sent off in the morning from Santo Domingo. There was a total of 7 km to the next tiny village of Granon. We were talking and walking, talking and walking. After awhile someone commented on the lack of the yellow arrows. We complained as how they are becoming more scarce the farther along th camino we go. A little bit farther I pointed out a village, saying that that must be Granon. The only problem was it was up the mountain. "But I thought we were done with mountains for awhile..." You would think that we would consult the map at this point, but no, we just changed the subject. A little bit further a car passed us, stopped, the driver rolled down his window and shook his finger at us, crap, we´re lost. He drew us a map and we ended up not being that far gone, but it was hot, Jackie´s feet were in pain and I was just feeling very unexplainably weak. We took a break at the bar in Granon at 10 am. We found ourselves at the same bar at 4 am the next morning with an Irishman, Spaniard, Brazilian, Latvian, and Swede. Don´t worry, we did venture away to explore our albergue for the night - the annex building/bell tower of the village church, our hosts being the Spaniard and Brazilian that helped us try the local drink specialties late into the night.
I am aware that my blog is making it sound like I drink a lot on this pilgrimage. BUT as our hosts last night pointed out, it was customary for the churches to provide pilgrims with wine to help them along their journey. We are just trying to be historically accurate.
p.s In case I am not being completely understood with my el camino language - along the camino there are constatnly yellow arrows and shells( the symbol of the camino) pointing out the direction to go. If you are thinking it must be hard to get lost when all you have to do is follow arrows, you are probably right. I have a habit of accomplishing the impossible.
An albergue is like a youth hostel only you have to be a pilgrim to stay in them as they are very cheap. We have little pilgrim passports that get stamped along the way to prove that we are a pilgrim. The albergues vary greatly. The one we stayed in last night is a parish albergue that is run entirely on donations and provides a shared meal and prayer if you wish to participate. Then you have the brand new albergues that are characterless and more like hotels with every kind of albergue you can imagine in between. One night I stayed in a private albergue that was someone´s town house with rented out rooms, another was in a little tiny traditional house run by a dutch christian couple. Tonight´s albergue is more like a resort - only terrible. At least there is internet.
Well after some lazy days I really have to get up early tomorrow and walk at least 25 km. Jackie and I have decided that we can´t walk together, we can meet up at the end of the day but if we walk together we just end oup stopping and staying. We say we´ll make up for it in the meseta and walk 40 km a day. We´ll see how that goes........buenas noches!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
THere are..... heck I have no idea....A LOT of kilometers to Santiago
OKay well internet is expensive so .... here are some highlights,
-the other day I passed by a WINE fountain. When you turned the tap WINE came out. FREE WINE. Free GOOD wine. I´m having trouble getting the red wine taste out of my waterbottle.
-just when I decide that I´m not scared to be alone I can´t seem to get away from people! But no, thats not completely a bad thing, its really interesting talking and walking with a different person everyday. And even when we lose each other we tend to see each other in another town on another day.
-I had my first experience getting lost. I followed arrows leading to a bar instead of the yellow el camino arrows. A frenchman was following me. HE wasn´t too impressed with having to back track. After that we walked 20 km together and he got to decide the direction.
- I stopped at a village fountain one day in the afternoon for a rest and a Spanish lady came and gave me a cup of strawberries. So sweet.
-I seriously can not get away from summer, it was 27 degrees outside today.
I love life. It is so fantastically interesting.
-the other day I passed by a WINE fountain. When you turned the tap WINE came out. FREE WINE. Free GOOD wine. I´m having trouble getting the red wine taste out of my waterbottle.
-just when I decide that I´m not scared to be alone I can´t seem to get away from people! But no, thats not completely a bad thing, its really interesting talking and walking with a different person everyday. And even when we lose each other we tend to see each other in another town on another day.
-I had my first experience getting lost. I followed arrows leading to a bar instead of the yellow el camino arrows. A frenchman was following me. HE wasn´t too impressed with having to back track. After that we walked 20 km together and he got to decide the direction.
- I stopped at a village fountain one day in the afternoon for a rest and a Spanish lady came and gave me a cup of strawberries. So sweet.
-I seriously can not get away from summer, it was 27 degrees outside today.
I love life. It is so fantastically interesting.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
No one said being a pilgrim was easy.....
Here is what my guide book said about the first day of el camino, fortunately I didn´t read this until after I arrived at the albergue after the first day of walking : "a STRENUOUS uphill walk is rewarded with stunning views in all directions (provided we are spared the hill fog ( we weren´t)) The first part,as far as Huntto is through STEEPLY wooded countryside......while the uphill section will STRETCH the cardiovascular muscles injuryis more likely on the steep downhillstage into Roncesvalles when mind and muscles will be tired -stay very focused.¨"
(capitals added for effect.)
Needless to say the first day was a little challenging. We arrived at the albergue, collapsed on the floor, and threw our horrible hiking boots across the room. Okay, that last part is a lie, but we were happy to arrive.
I have now just completed day 5 and am happy to say that it does get easier and the scenery is gorgeous. After following the recommened itinery in my guide book for 3 days however, I realized with some encouragment from my ever insightful dad that I am not it a hurry. I´m not sure why everyone else is, something about plane tickets and jobs and school and stuff like that, but yo, no. Really, besides the fact that its getting hard to get on airplanes, I have all the time in the world. So on the fourth day I fell asleep on a mountain and let all the people in a hurry pass me by. I also left behind my cell phone and alarm clock, its very strange not always being able to know what time it is, but at the same time it is refreshing.
The first three days I was also very worried about money. This worry was also put into perspective after talking to my parents. I think I am very lucky tohave parents that worry so little about money even when they don´t have any. My dad asked me how much I have, I said I don´t know, he said that then I must have enough to take my time. I suppose I do.
So I am no longer worried about time or money. And I think I am getting over the fear of being alone, which is another reason why I was keeping up with my friends in a hurry. All this silence and time to think can be a little frightening, but I think it is part of the experience.
703 km to Santiago.
(capitals added for effect.)
Needless to say the first day was a little challenging. We arrived at the albergue, collapsed on the floor, and threw our horrible hiking boots across the room. Okay, that last part is a lie, but we were happy to arrive.
I have now just completed day 5 and am happy to say that it does get easier and the scenery is gorgeous. After following the recommened itinery in my guide book for 3 days however, I realized with some encouragment from my ever insightful dad that I am not it a hurry. I´m not sure why everyone else is, something about plane tickets and jobs and school and stuff like that, but yo, no. Really, besides the fact that its getting hard to get on airplanes, I have all the time in the world. So on the fourth day I fell asleep on a mountain and let all the people in a hurry pass me by. I also left behind my cell phone and alarm clock, its very strange not always being able to know what time it is, but at the same time it is refreshing.
The first three days I was also very worried about money. This worry was also put into perspective after talking to my parents. I think I am very lucky tohave parents that worry so little about money even when they don´t have any. My dad asked me how much I have, I said I don´t know, he said that then I must have enough to take my time. I suppose I do.
So I am no longer worried about time or money. And I think I am getting over the fear of being alone, which is another reason why I was keeping up with my friends in a hurry. All this silence and time to think can be a little frightening, but I think it is part of the experience.
703 km to Santiago.
Friday, April 1, 2011
I am a Pilgrim
A year ago I don't think I ever thought that I would say that. I am a Pilgrim.
OKay, here goes my first journal entry while waiting for the bus that will take me up to the starting point :
"I think it may be necessary to eat on this pilgrimage. (at this point I had eaten breakfast and it was almost 6 pm) YOu know, just maybe we want to survive. I feel like I must be the most unprepared unorganized pilgrim ever. There is a Japanese pilgrim sitting across from me eating a grapefruit with a pocket knife. HE looks prepared. I don't think I look prepared. I'm not even wearing my hiking boots. What kind of pilgrim am I? Well the original pilgrims didnt even have hiking boots. Ha, the other pilgrim's bag just toppled over and fell to the floor. Somehow that means he is less prepared. He even has a rain cover for his bag and waterproof pants. Shoot. I'm not that unprepared, I just need to eat more so my brain can function properly. This must be the problem - I need to eat. (about 20 min later the other pilgrim will start eating a heart shaped lollipop.)
I don't have a pilgrim passport. It's okay, I can get one. I think my bag is too big. It weighs two kilos by itself. But I can't very well do anything about that now. My SPanish is awful. Can't change that at the moment either.
But my clothes are clean! Thats a start! And so am I! Or as clean as you can get when you dry off with a towel that starts out dirty but is clean by the time you are done drying off.
I am so unprepared. The old man sitting across staring at me can tell, I'm sure. He knows I'm scared and probably shouldn't be doing this.
I should really be wearing my hiking boots. I feel like the other pilgrims are judging my footwear. I just have too many thoughts. My brain needs to calm down."
Well, I started out confident, that's for sure. This journal entry was followed by me silently cursing my stupid ideas all the way up to St. Jean Pied de Port. I calmed down once I arrived though, don't worry. The first night I was in a room with two other Spanish people, one a middle aged lady who has already done the camino 3 times. She asked me if I had food. I had an apple. But I can buy some tomorrow, I said, dont worry. She said, no no you can buy bread tomorrow, we are leaving early and the supermarket isnt open. She gave me cheese, some hoemade chorizo, 2 granola bars, and some trail mix. She is my el camino mom!
WEll I should say that I am actually really enjoying myself but I have to go now because I should really get going, even though I have decided I am not going to rush, this is turning into a late morning. I have already walked over 70 km!
OKay, here goes my first journal entry while waiting for the bus that will take me up to the starting point :
"I think it may be necessary to eat on this pilgrimage. (at this point I had eaten breakfast and it was almost 6 pm) YOu know, just maybe we want to survive. I feel like I must be the most unprepared unorganized pilgrim ever. There is a Japanese pilgrim sitting across from me eating a grapefruit with a pocket knife. HE looks prepared. I don't think I look prepared. I'm not even wearing my hiking boots. What kind of pilgrim am I? Well the original pilgrims didnt even have hiking boots. Ha, the other pilgrim's bag just toppled over and fell to the floor. Somehow that means he is less prepared. He even has a rain cover for his bag and waterproof pants. Shoot. I'm not that unprepared, I just need to eat more so my brain can function properly. This must be the problem - I need to eat. (about 20 min later the other pilgrim will start eating a heart shaped lollipop.)
I don't have a pilgrim passport. It's okay, I can get one. I think my bag is too big. It weighs two kilos by itself. But I can't very well do anything about that now. My SPanish is awful. Can't change that at the moment either.
But my clothes are clean! Thats a start! And so am I! Or as clean as you can get when you dry off with a towel that starts out dirty but is clean by the time you are done drying off.
I am so unprepared. The old man sitting across staring at me can tell, I'm sure. He knows I'm scared and probably shouldn't be doing this.
I should really be wearing my hiking boots. I feel like the other pilgrims are judging my footwear. I just have too many thoughts. My brain needs to calm down."
Well, I started out confident, that's for sure. This journal entry was followed by me silently cursing my stupid ideas all the way up to St. Jean Pied de Port. I calmed down once I arrived though, don't worry. The first night I was in a room with two other Spanish people, one a middle aged lady who has already done the camino 3 times. She asked me if I had food. I had an apple. But I can buy some tomorrow, I said, dont worry. She said, no no you can buy bread tomorrow, we are leaving early and the supermarket isnt open. She gave me cheese, some hoemade chorizo, 2 granola bars, and some trail mix. She is my el camino mom!
WEll I should say that I am actually really enjoying myself but I have to go now because I should really get going, even though I have decided I am not going to rush, this is turning into a late morning. I have already walked over 70 km!
Monday, March 28, 2011
I am being deported back to Canada.....
haha just kidding. But I had a bit of a scare at the airport yesterday while I was trying to get on a flight to Madrid. The nice portuguese lady unfortunately realized that my visa had expired. Shoot. I was hoping no one would look. It was all very confusing though, at first she agreed with me that yes, I still had 3 months as a tourist in the Schengen area but then I think it came to the conclusion that I had to buy those three months. I dunno. I'm still going to go on the fact that I have three months. Thats what the French told me. The Portuguese just like to cause problems. Thats the second time they've scared me but both times they don't seem to be able to do anything except tell me that I should really do something about my visa. And I will. In two months. And I'll do it in France where they seem to care less.
So after believing that I would soon be deported but making it into Madrid no problem I lazily made my way North and today (hopefully!) will arrive in St. Jean Pied de Port which is the start of the camino de santiago. I say I lazily made my way because my new travel technique seems to be to not plan anything and to do just do whatever is the most convenient. For example, this is how I made it here from the goat farm :
-got a ride with Nurne to the Faro airport because he was going to pick up Dani. We are driving and he's like, uh so where are you going tonight? Me- umm I dunno. Nurne- you could sleep on the beach, its only 1km away from the airport parking. Me- okay, why not? Except then we arrived and it looked like it was going to rain. Hence I chickened out. So I walk up to the airport and Nurne shows me the bus stop, with a bus to the city that is conveniently just arriving. Perfect. I get on the bus and find some American tourists. I follow them to their hostel.
-the next day I get on my flight, arrive in Madrid, not really sure where I'm going or where I'm going to stay. There is a bus to the train station, so I get on, hey why not. get to the train station, hey there is a train to Pamplona in half an hour. Pamplona is in the beginning of el camino, might as well go there. And here I am.
It's a very relaxed way of travelling and you really don't have to wait around for anything or find anything because you just do whatever is right in front of you. I like it. I hate planning. Unfortunately starting el camino does take a certain amount of planning and organizing.
And now I am sure quite a few of you are wondering what the heck this camino de santiago thing is that I keep talking about. Well, let me explain.
El Camino de Santiago is a pilgrimage that goes to the Spanish city of Santiago de Compostela where St. James is buried. In English el camino de Santiago is translated as the Way of St. James. People have been walking this camino for centuries from all over Europe. Hence there are trails that start as far away as St. Petersburg in Russia. I am taking the most common route - el camino frances- which starts in a tiny village in the French Pyrenees- St Jean Pied de Port. From here I am going to walk into Spain (no problem with my visa this time, I'm crossing the border in the mountains on foot!) crossing the north of the country until I reach Santiago de Compostela near the west coast. I am going to walk 800 km. Yup, thats right, 800 km.
Why?
haha why do I do anything that I do?
Why not?
People always seem to like to ask me this question but you know, really, why the hell not?
No, but really, the guide book that I bought has been telling me that I should think about why I am doing this. I have wanted to do this for awhile and I think that there are two main reasons. One, I want the physical challenge ( I expect to be in damn good shape after I'm done this) and two, I guess I've been looking for some clarity in what I want to do in life. Maybe it's cliche to think that doing a pilgrimage will show me my life purpose, but hey, maybe its cliche for a reason, maybe it works. Being away for 7 months has already helped me get a clearer picture of what I want to do in life so I think a pilgrimage will just help all the more. As my dear friend Mandy told me, may Jesus kidnap my heart, that is if he hasn't already done so. I think he has but I also think he tricked me into deciding to do this so we'll see what happens.
I think its good that I just wrote down reasons for doing this because you can bet that in less then two days I'm going to be on here again asking all my readers, what the heck I am doing and how do I always get these weird ideas and actually end up going through with them. So stay tuned, the start of this craziness is coming.
So after believing that I would soon be deported but making it into Madrid no problem I lazily made my way North and today (hopefully!) will arrive in St. Jean Pied de Port which is the start of the camino de santiago. I say I lazily made my way because my new travel technique seems to be to not plan anything and to do just do whatever is the most convenient. For example, this is how I made it here from the goat farm :
-got a ride with Nurne to the Faro airport because he was going to pick up Dani. We are driving and he's like, uh so where are you going tonight? Me- umm I dunno. Nurne- you could sleep on the beach, its only 1km away from the airport parking. Me- okay, why not? Except then we arrived and it looked like it was going to rain. Hence I chickened out. So I walk up to the airport and Nurne shows me the bus stop, with a bus to the city that is conveniently just arriving. Perfect. I get on the bus and find some American tourists. I follow them to their hostel.
-the next day I get on my flight, arrive in Madrid, not really sure where I'm going or where I'm going to stay. There is a bus to the train station, so I get on, hey why not. get to the train station, hey there is a train to Pamplona in half an hour. Pamplona is in the beginning of el camino, might as well go there. And here I am.
It's a very relaxed way of travelling and you really don't have to wait around for anything or find anything because you just do whatever is right in front of you. I like it. I hate planning. Unfortunately starting el camino does take a certain amount of planning and organizing.
And now I am sure quite a few of you are wondering what the heck this camino de santiago thing is that I keep talking about. Well, let me explain.
El Camino de Santiago is a pilgrimage that goes to the Spanish city of Santiago de Compostela where St. James is buried. In English el camino de Santiago is translated as the Way of St. James. People have been walking this camino for centuries from all over Europe. Hence there are trails that start as far away as St. Petersburg in Russia. I am taking the most common route - el camino frances- which starts in a tiny village in the French Pyrenees- St Jean Pied de Port. From here I am going to walk into Spain (no problem with my visa this time, I'm crossing the border in the mountains on foot!) crossing the north of the country until I reach Santiago de Compostela near the west coast. I am going to walk 800 km. Yup, thats right, 800 km.
Why?
haha why do I do anything that I do?
Why not?
People always seem to like to ask me this question but you know, really, why the hell not?
No, but really, the guide book that I bought has been telling me that I should think about why I am doing this. I have wanted to do this for awhile and I think that there are two main reasons. One, I want the physical challenge ( I expect to be in damn good shape after I'm done this) and two, I guess I've been looking for some clarity in what I want to do in life. Maybe it's cliche to think that doing a pilgrimage will show me my life purpose, but hey, maybe its cliche for a reason, maybe it works. Being away for 7 months has already helped me get a clearer picture of what I want to do in life so I think a pilgrimage will just help all the more. As my dear friend Mandy told me, may Jesus kidnap my heart, that is if he hasn't already done so. I think he has but I also think he tricked me into deciding to do this so we'll see what happens.
I think its good that I just wrote down reasons for doing this because you can bet that in less then two days I'm going to be on here again asking all my readers, what the heck I am doing and how do I always get these weird ideas and actually end up going through with them. So stay tuned, the start of this craziness is coming.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
You can leave, just make sure you come back.....
I spent a week in Lisboa, which as Louise found out, in English is Lisbon, the capital of Portugal. Honestly I think us Canadians need to brush up on geography a bit..... the picture below with the flower was taken at a vegan cafe where I met another Canadian trying to tell the Portuguese waiter that he was wrong, there was no Quebec City, Quebec is a province and it's Capital is Montreal. The problem was that the waiter had been to Quebec City.
So one week in Lisbon. I was going to find another farm to go to for March but the problem was that I realized I didn't want to. I wanted to go back to Casa do burro, to the goats. When I started travelling, or rather when I dropped school in Malaga and went to the Canary Islands, I told myself that this year I could do whatever I wanted and go wherever I pleased. I just have to get used to the fact that sometimes what I want to do is not what I expected that I would want to do. Usually I am insanely restless. I think I am losing this. Maybe. I shouldn't speak too quickly. But anyways all I wanted to do was go back to the goat farm so I came back. They all guessed that Iwould be back in a week, and now that I am Dani keeps saying that we are going to start building my house. The house of Annie. The other night I was like "ummm so Dani, does it matter how long I stay?" She never bothered to ask how long I was staying when I came back.
She just laughed, "what, you want to tell me what you want for your Christmas present or what?"
I took that as a no, it doesn't matter.
I think that in the end, when you are traveling, it might be better to create a few places you could call home instead of breezing through places that one day you will only remember by your pictures. Because when I came back, arrived in Lagos, got on a bus to Vila do Bispo, waited at the cafe for the dirty white van to come, drove through the woods with two punks singing to the radio and drinking beer, oddly enough, it felt like I was going home.
And when I walked over to the neighbours one night with the other wwoofers and the two new guys from Berlin felt it necessary to introduce me, it felt nice that the neighbours could just laugh and say, "really? this is Annie? I think we just may have seen her before...."
And when we walk to Pedralva and go to the one place we can find beer, it's nice the waiter knows me well enough to jokingly say they're closed when he sees me among the group. ( I tend to pay for beer with collected change I find, the first time I asked if it was okay to pay in change and he said, ya ya, of course, i need change. Then he realized that when I said change I meant mostly 1, 2, and 5 cent coins. hey, what can I say? beer here is cheap.)
But it's nice to be known. No matter which random situation you find yourself in, you can create a home by making yourself known.
So one week in Lisbon. I was going to find another farm to go to for March but the problem was that I realized I didn't want to. I wanted to go back to Casa do burro, to the goats. When I started travelling, or rather when I dropped school in Malaga and went to the Canary Islands, I told myself that this year I could do whatever I wanted and go wherever I pleased. I just have to get used to the fact that sometimes what I want to do is not what I expected that I would want to do. Usually I am insanely restless. I think I am losing this. Maybe. I shouldn't speak too quickly. But anyways all I wanted to do was go back to the goat farm so I came back. They all guessed that Iwould be back in a week, and now that I am Dani keeps saying that we are going to start building my house. The house of Annie. The other night I was like "ummm so Dani, does it matter how long I stay?" She never bothered to ask how long I was staying when I came back.
She just laughed, "what, you want to tell me what you want for your Christmas present or what?"
I took that as a no, it doesn't matter.
I think that in the end, when you are traveling, it might be better to create a few places you could call home instead of breezing through places that one day you will only remember by your pictures. Because when I came back, arrived in Lagos, got on a bus to Vila do Bispo, waited at the cafe for the dirty white van to come, drove through the woods with two punks singing to the radio and drinking beer, oddly enough, it felt like I was going home.
And when I walked over to the neighbours one night with the other wwoofers and the two new guys from Berlin felt it necessary to introduce me, it felt nice that the neighbours could just laugh and say, "really? this is Annie? I think we just may have seen her before...."
And when we walk to Pedralva and go to the one place we can find beer, it's nice the waiter knows me well enough to jokingly say they're closed when he sees me among the group. ( I tend to pay for beer with collected change I find, the first time I asked if it was okay to pay in change and he said, ya ya, of course, i need change. Then he realized that when I said change I meant mostly 1, 2, and 5 cent coins. hey, what can I say? beer here is cheap.)
But it's nice to be known. No matter which random situation you find yourself in, you can create a home by making yourself known.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Lisboa
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| Bubble chairs along the water. |
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| Laundry and tiled buildings - the characteristics of Lisboa's streets |
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| I spent a lot of time being lazy at cafes! I pretended to be a starving artist |
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| I'm a Vegan! |
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| Sintra Park, surprisingly similar to St. Douglas park in Victoria, minus the Palace and Temples. |
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| Sintra Palace |
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| Doesn't it look like lego blocks? |
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| For my Mom - Little old lady calling down to her cat. Not that my Mom is a little old lady or anything. |
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
I left, even if they didn't believe I ever would........
OK, so, left the goat farm. I arrived in Lisboa by bus yesterday. My first realization as I walked out of the bus station was that I smelled. And my clothes were dirty. Are dirty. I might still smell. I should really do something about that but I feel like I just had a shower.....it can't have been that long ago.... anyways I can't smell that bad since I still managed to attract the unwanted attention of a hung over portuguese guy this morning while making coffee. He just didn't seem to be able to figure out what to do with his empty plastic water bottle while standing beside the recycling bin and hence felt the need to ask my advice. Thats a new one. I'm surprised he didn't ask what time it is. Maybe that's too clever for someone who has only slept two hours.
But really, I guess I'm not one to talk. Let me describe my last day with the goats.
My alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. What the heck? My sleepy brain asks. Why is my alarm going off? I just went to bed! But instead of turning it off (thank goodness my brain didn't think of that) I hit the snooze button. I hit it again at 6:35, 6:40, 6:45, 6:50, 6:55, and 7:00. At 7:00 something penetrates my consiousness enough to realize that I have to get up. It's 7:00. Even if I only slept 3 hours it's still 7:00. I sit up and instantly realize that moving that fast will not be possible today. I need water. I get up and somehow manage to make a lunch that I will not eat and start to stumble down the hill to the goats. It doesn't help that on my way to the outhouse I pass Nurne puking into the pig food. That might not be such a bad idea.
I asked for this last day with the goats. I even stayed an extra day for it. (I lied, left on Tuesday, not on MOnday...) I thought that it would be a great day lying in the sunshine, listening to goats chomping on grass and contemplating life while admiring cork trees. It sounds amazing eh? I put my journal in my bag with my lunch so I could write down profound revelations. I would leave that farm with my life figured out.
Too bad that by the time I was done puking my guts out, drifting in and out of sleep and waking up to goats head butting me, (hey at least they didn't run away) all I could think of to put in my journal was "I wanted to do the goats one last day so that I could be all reflective on life. And then I was hungover."
So there you have it. My profound revelations as I left the goat farm.
Funny thing about that situation was that usually when you show up to work hung over you feel terribly irresponsible and do everything you can so that your boss doesn't notice. (not that i've done this before, i can just imagine you know) But in this case it was my "boss" that took me out and decided we'd all come back at 3 am. I pretty sure it was also her that bought my last few beers since I don't remember thinking that I needed more but they would all of a sudden appear in front of me anyways. SO on the bright side I didn't have the irresponsible giulty feeling as I realized as soon as I was left with the goats that I hadn't closed the lid on my water bottle properly and my back and bag were soaked. But don't worry, I'm responsible and reflecting on life.
But really, I guess I'm not one to talk. Let me describe my last day with the goats.
My alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. What the heck? My sleepy brain asks. Why is my alarm going off? I just went to bed! But instead of turning it off (thank goodness my brain didn't think of that) I hit the snooze button. I hit it again at 6:35, 6:40, 6:45, 6:50, 6:55, and 7:00. At 7:00 something penetrates my consiousness enough to realize that I have to get up. It's 7:00. Even if I only slept 3 hours it's still 7:00. I sit up and instantly realize that moving that fast will not be possible today. I need water. I get up and somehow manage to make a lunch that I will not eat and start to stumble down the hill to the goats. It doesn't help that on my way to the outhouse I pass Nurne puking into the pig food. That might not be such a bad idea.
I asked for this last day with the goats. I even stayed an extra day for it. (I lied, left on Tuesday, not on MOnday...) I thought that it would be a great day lying in the sunshine, listening to goats chomping on grass and contemplating life while admiring cork trees. It sounds amazing eh? I put my journal in my bag with my lunch so I could write down profound revelations. I would leave that farm with my life figured out.
Too bad that by the time I was done puking my guts out, drifting in and out of sleep and waking up to goats head butting me, (hey at least they didn't run away) all I could think of to put in my journal was "I wanted to do the goats one last day so that I could be all reflective on life. And then I was hungover."
So there you have it. My profound revelations as I left the goat farm.
Funny thing about that situation was that usually when you show up to work hung over you feel terribly irresponsible and do everything you can so that your boss doesn't notice. (not that i've done this before, i can just imagine you know) But in this case it was my "boss" that took me out and decided we'd all come back at 3 am. I pretty sure it was also her that bought my last few beers since I don't remember thinking that I needed more but they would all of a sudden appear in front of me anyways. SO on the bright side I didn't have the irresponsible giulty feeling as I realized as soon as I was left with the goats that I hadn't closed the lid on my water bottle properly and my back and bag were soaked. But don't worry, I'm responsible and reflecting on life.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Well....still here....I´m leaving on Monday though, for real
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| My goats being good and eating. |
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| I love the cork trees! |
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| The weather wasn`t as good this day but the beach is still gorgeous. |
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| And the cliffs so high! |
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| Just in case anyone is forgetting what I look like. |
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| When they harvest the cork the tree is bright red underneath at first. |
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| Pedralva. Suzannah and I actually managed to find one place open to serve us a beer the other day. We saw a total of five people. |
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| Olga! |
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| I had a photo portrait session with the goats the other day. This is the stubborn one that never listens to me. |
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| I bet you can guess....this is the one that is always trying to eat me. At the moment she is trying to eat my ear. |
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
I had every intention to post pictures today but unfortunately I can´t find a computer with a memory card slot and my computer has turned all stubborn on me and doesn´t want to connect to the internet. So. Sorry. Today is my day off and I used it to go to the city of Lagos. I feel like I haven´t been in a city for almost three weeks. It´s kind of a strange feeling. I almost felt scared to be in a city after being in the middle of nowhere for so long.
Anyways I´ve run into a new problem with this traveling thing. It seems that I never want to leave a place anymore! I was supposed to leave the goat farm today, but, well, I didn´t. Still here. Maybe I´ll leave next week. My hosts are convinced I´ll be here until April. But no, leaving next week. I just have to figure out where exactly I´m going to go......
Anyways I´ve run into a new problem with this traveling thing. It seems that I never want to leave a place anymore! I was supposed to leave the goat farm today, but, well, I didn´t. Still here. Maybe I´ll leave next week. My hosts are convinced I´ll be here until April. But no, leaving next week. I just have to figure out where exactly I´m going to go......
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Goats are Smarter than you Think
So for anyone confused with where I am and what I'm doing like Louise, I'm sorry, let me explain.
I am currently sitting in a living room that was built with straw and clay walls and connects onto the kitchen, which is an old camper trailer. There is a cat sitting on the table next to me drinking out of my water glass that has a reddish tinge because of the high concentration of iron. The water isn't for drinking, don't worry. It's to put my finger in which I burned today while making a fire so I could take a bath. The living room and kitchen are on a goat farm located down just a few dirt roads that are very confusing to navigate while you are walking home in the dark. So far I have not attempted this on my own...... the dirt roads take you to a little town called Pedralva that as far as I can see has a bunch of pituresque white washed houses with blue shutters and a pizzeria. The pizzeria is closed in winter, so right now there are really just houses. After Pedralva you hit a paved road that runs north-south parellel to the coast line. The coast line is amazing. Cliffs go on and on and on separated here and there by beautiful beaches. Taking the road south for about 15 min. you come to a town that actually appears on a map - Vila do Bispo, Algarve, Portugal.
So, that's where I am.
As I mentioned in my last post, these farmers that I'm working for aren't really your typical farmers, they're punks. They are german and moved to Portugal looking to become self suficient and searching for a better way to live. They host Wwoofers, about 100 a year, which is what I'm doing. BAsically wwoofing means that you come here, work, learn about their lifestyle, and in return recieve three meals a day and a place to sleep. They aren't completely self suficient but what they've managed to build out here is pretty amazing. All the buildings are of clay or old campers. For the outhouse their is a compost toilet, and there's a second outhouse for going pee because apparently urine doesn't compost. This two different outhouses thing has led to some hilarious misunderstandings and conversations. To take a bath their is a bath house and a water heater with a woodstove underneath. So if you want a bath you have to make a fire about one hour before and heat up the water. Because of this we often have baths on the same day. This usually happens the night before our day off. I love how little we shower here! haha
Cooking is done on a tiny little stove top (remember the kitchen is in an old camper) and the oven is outside and also wood-heated. Hmmm what else is cool about this place........there are 5 cats, 4 dogs, numerous chickens including some babies that constantly wander into the kitchen, 3 pigs and about 12 piglets, 2 donkeys, 23 goats, 2 ducks, and a horse arrives on Monday.
Goats are funny. After making goat cheese for a week ( and getting pretty good at it I think...) DAni finally came back and I got to experience my first day of goat herding. THe day starts with milking them, which was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be except that I'm not very fast at it yet, Dirk is insanely fast. He can have like 8 litres by the time I have 2! But he does do this everyday twice a day. Anyways then Dirk gave me a staff and led the goats down the road a ways for me. He explained to me the boundaries, pretty simple, don't go too close to the stables, go up the mountain but not down the other side, and don't let the goats in the fruit tree field. OKay. Got it. Oh and remember, goats are smarter than you think.
I was kind of nervous but Dirk left and the goats wandered around in the field, started going up the mountain, came back down a ways, went back up, found another field, and well, they ate. I watched, they ate. Pretty simple. Every once in awhile one would come and sniff at me, try to eat, decide I wasn't food and move on. Sometimes they need a head rub too. One in particular will come and rub against your leg for awhile then lose interest. THere is a baby named Olga who is so cute. She's always getting left behind and never cooperates when you tell her not to go somewhere but thats not a problem because she's pick-up-able and adorable. At about noon the goats paused to take a lunch break. Meaning, they stopped eating. I really never realized that all goats do is eat constantly. But then in the afternoon they get it in their heads that they want to go in the fruit tree field. I remember this one, this isn't allowed. But I use my goat herding staff and I show them who's boss. No fruit tree field for you goats. After managing to keep them out for about half an hour I'm feeling pretty good about myself. It seems that they've given up and start back up the hill. I follow with Olga trailing, bleating behind. They stop and I sit under a tree and decide to start eating my lunch. Olga wants my lunch as well. I've managed to eat half of my sandwich without Olga's help when I realize that the bells sound a bit more distant. I look around and all the goats except Olga are gone. They never move that fast! I stand up and see that they've run down the hill and are now happily eating in the fruit tree field. They tricked me! They lured me up the hill, waited until I started eating, sent Olga to distract me, and then escaped! And they weren't very cooperative to get out of that field either.....but after that I had learned my lesson, goats are smarter than you think. They have gained my respect even if they do still try to eat me.
Anyways I gotta go, my cat is waiting for me to take him to my sleeping bag and tomorrow I have to get up and make cheese and prepare for a birthday party! Fun fun. German birthday party = lots and lots of beer! And hopefully a cake!
I am currently sitting in a living room that was built with straw and clay walls and connects onto the kitchen, which is an old camper trailer. There is a cat sitting on the table next to me drinking out of my water glass that has a reddish tinge because of the high concentration of iron. The water isn't for drinking, don't worry. It's to put my finger in which I burned today while making a fire so I could take a bath. The living room and kitchen are on a goat farm located down just a few dirt roads that are very confusing to navigate while you are walking home in the dark. So far I have not attempted this on my own...... the dirt roads take you to a little town called Pedralva that as far as I can see has a bunch of pituresque white washed houses with blue shutters and a pizzeria. The pizzeria is closed in winter, so right now there are really just houses. After Pedralva you hit a paved road that runs north-south parellel to the coast line. The coast line is amazing. Cliffs go on and on and on separated here and there by beautiful beaches. Taking the road south for about 15 min. you come to a town that actually appears on a map - Vila do Bispo, Algarve, Portugal.
So, that's where I am.
As I mentioned in my last post, these farmers that I'm working for aren't really your typical farmers, they're punks. They are german and moved to Portugal looking to become self suficient and searching for a better way to live. They host Wwoofers, about 100 a year, which is what I'm doing. BAsically wwoofing means that you come here, work, learn about their lifestyle, and in return recieve three meals a day and a place to sleep. They aren't completely self suficient but what they've managed to build out here is pretty amazing. All the buildings are of clay or old campers. For the outhouse their is a compost toilet, and there's a second outhouse for going pee because apparently urine doesn't compost. This two different outhouses thing has led to some hilarious misunderstandings and conversations. To take a bath their is a bath house and a water heater with a woodstove underneath. So if you want a bath you have to make a fire about one hour before and heat up the water. Because of this we often have baths on the same day. This usually happens the night before our day off. I love how little we shower here! haha
Cooking is done on a tiny little stove top (remember the kitchen is in an old camper) and the oven is outside and also wood-heated. Hmmm what else is cool about this place........there are 5 cats, 4 dogs, numerous chickens including some babies that constantly wander into the kitchen, 3 pigs and about 12 piglets, 2 donkeys, 23 goats, 2 ducks, and a horse arrives on Monday.
Goats are funny. After making goat cheese for a week ( and getting pretty good at it I think...) DAni finally came back and I got to experience my first day of goat herding. THe day starts with milking them, which was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be except that I'm not very fast at it yet, Dirk is insanely fast. He can have like 8 litres by the time I have 2! But he does do this everyday twice a day. Anyways then Dirk gave me a staff and led the goats down the road a ways for me. He explained to me the boundaries, pretty simple, don't go too close to the stables, go up the mountain but not down the other side, and don't let the goats in the fruit tree field. OKay. Got it. Oh and remember, goats are smarter than you think.
I was kind of nervous but Dirk left and the goats wandered around in the field, started going up the mountain, came back down a ways, went back up, found another field, and well, they ate. I watched, they ate. Pretty simple. Every once in awhile one would come and sniff at me, try to eat, decide I wasn't food and move on. Sometimes they need a head rub too. One in particular will come and rub against your leg for awhile then lose interest. THere is a baby named Olga who is so cute. She's always getting left behind and never cooperates when you tell her not to go somewhere but thats not a problem because she's pick-up-able and adorable. At about noon the goats paused to take a lunch break. Meaning, they stopped eating. I really never realized that all goats do is eat constantly. But then in the afternoon they get it in their heads that they want to go in the fruit tree field. I remember this one, this isn't allowed. But I use my goat herding staff and I show them who's boss. No fruit tree field for you goats. After managing to keep them out for about half an hour I'm feeling pretty good about myself. It seems that they've given up and start back up the hill. I follow with Olga trailing, bleating behind. They stop and I sit under a tree and decide to start eating my lunch. Olga wants my lunch as well. I've managed to eat half of my sandwich without Olga's help when I realize that the bells sound a bit more distant. I look around and all the goats except Olga are gone. They never move that fast! I stand up and see that they've run down the hill and are now happily eating in the fruit tree field. They tricked me! They lured me up the hill, waited until I started eating, sent Olga to distract me, and then escaped! And they weren't very cooperative to get out of that field either.....but after that I had learned my lesson, goats are smarter than you think. They have gained my respect even if they do still try to eat me.
Anyways I gotta go, my cat is waiting for me to take him to my sleeping bag and tomorrow I have to get up and make cheese and prepare for a birthday party! Fun fun. German birthday party = lots and lots of beer! And hopefully a cake!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Wwoofing. Week Two.
This just keeps getting better and better. So I left the meditation center before I went a little crazy. Let's start this next one as I am sitting waiting at a bus stop for my wwoof hosts number 2 to pick me up.
I am sitting at the main bus stop in a tiny portuguese town called Vila do Bispo. It's a Saturday afternoon, hence there isn't many people around. Two men are smoking and drinking coffee at a small cafe that appears to be closed not too far behind me. The sky is blue and yet is raining. It's annoying how that can happen. It's cold. I watch as cars drive by and wonder which one will stop to pick me up. Some park by me but the people that come out aren't looking for anyone. So far no one I've seen looks like they're from a farm. A blue car pulls up and parks....mmm ... nope the lady that comes out is too old. A family going for a weekend drive goes by. A white van pulls up. It looks pretty beat up, it could be from a farm. The guy getting out of the driver's seat has a mohawk. mmm...maybe not. Another guy gets out of the passenger side, also with a mohawk and a lot of black eye make up, piercings, chains on the jeans, leather jacket, the whole chi-bang. I laugh to myself, well I sure hope these aren't the people picking me up. They walk towards me.
"Are you waiting to be picked up? Are you Annie?"
Shoot. These are my hosts. I really hope the shock doesn't show on my face. I could lie right here, I could say no, get back on the bus but well....that would be complicated..... "ya, that's me, nice to meet you...."
I get in their van full of hay and I really feel like laughing out loud, where the heck am I going? Especially when we go on a detour on the way home down a dirt road and they get out saying they have to go get stuff from the bins. Bins? I learn later that they went to go through the supmarket garbage bins to get food for the pigs but they have to go around the back because it's not allowed. Really this wwoofing thing is so much fun, you just never know what to expect.... and this place is so cool. I really don't know how to describe it, I'll put up pictures later. I just don't really have internet a lot right now so it's hard to write a lot. I arrived and the place is amazing. Right now the woman of the house is away so I have her job of cheese making. Also dish washing and cooking but the cheese making is the most interesting. It's starting to look really good, every day my cheese looks better!
And I will tell more later, I have to go and eat dinner, that I made!
I am sitting at the main bus stop in a tiny portuguese town called Vila do Bispo. It's a Saturday afternoon, hence there isn't many people around. Two men are smoking and drinking coffee at a small cafe that appears to be closed not too far behind me. The sky is blue and yet is raining. It's annoying how that can happen. It's cold. I watch as cars drive by and wonder which one will stop to pick me up. Some park by me but the people that come out aren't looking for anyone. So far no one I've seen looks like they're from a farm. A blue car pulls up and parks....mmm ... nope the lady that comes out is too old. A family going for a weekend drive goes by. A white van pulls up. It looks pretty beat up, it could be from a farm. The guy getting out of the driver's seat has a mohawk. mmm...maybe not. Another guy gets out of the passenger side, also with a mohawk and a lot of black eye make up, piercings, chains on the jeans, leather jacket, the whole chi-bang. I laugh to myself, well I sure hope these aren't the people picking me up. They walk towards me.
"Are you waiting to be picked up? Are you Annie?"
Shoot. These are my hosts. I really hope the shock doesn't show on my face. I could lie right here, I could say no, get back on the bus but well....that would be complicated..... "ya, that's me, nice to meet you...."
I get in their van full of hay and I really feel like laughing out loud, where the heck am I going? Especially when we go on a detour on the way home down a dirt road and they get out saying they have to go get stuff from the bins. Bins? I learn later that they went to go through the supmarket garbage bins to get food for the pigs but they have to go around the back because it's not allowed. Really this wwoofing thing is so much fun, you just never know what to expect.... and this place is so cool. I really don't know how to describe it, I'll put up pictures later. I just don't really have internet a lot right now so it's hard to write a lot. I arrived and the place is amazing. Right now the woman of the house is away so I have her job of cheese making. Also dish washing and cooking but the cheese making is the most interesting. It's starting to look really good, every day my cheese looks better!
And I will tell more later, I have to go and eat dinner, that I made!
Friday, January 28, 2011
I haven't been very up to date on the pictures....but these were actually taken today! Can you believe it?
I was thinking today and I think that my trip could kind of be like in Eat Pray Love and these months in the countryside could be the pray part! That way I could be like Julia Roberts! Except I really don't know how the Eat Pray Love story goes at all since I did see it, but it was in Spanish, back when I understood nothing, and I fell asleep. But I can imagine that I can be like her. Although, I fell asleep for the end....so really I don't even know if I want to be like her, it must've hada happy ending eh? I need to get my hands on the book.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wwoofing. Week one.
Get this, it's awesome.
Day one at my new home for the week on a farm in Portugal.
Me: So what can I do to help out today?
Boss guy: Well, here everything just flows. So I just want you to flow and to do whats best for you.
Me: uh, okay....... (to myself: flow, flow, shoot. what if I don't know how to flow?)
Ha I love it. There are no hours here. We don't force anything. What kind of farm am I working on? The kind that is also a meditative retreat centre. Yay, that's right, do I know how to pick 'em or what.
That's what I thought at the beginning. Then I realized that I may suck at meditating. It may even be against my religion. (Jesus: You have a religion? Me: uh.....well I guess thats debatable..) I could practice praying. (Jesus: you are going to practice praying? Seriously Annie, what are we, eight years old again? Me: okay okay good point.) Oh oh I know! I could do devotions! ( Jesus: are you looking at me? I'm rolling my eyes. Besides, you would want chocolate to do "devotions." Me: Oh ya, didn't think about that one. And boss guy told me that chocolate is the same thing as heroin. That one won't work out either.)
Anyways, you get the picture. This place is too quiet for me. Too peaceful. They even have two kids under the age of three and their house is still peaceful. I think I need hours, and a schedule and a list of things that need to get done. I've spent most of my time weeding and caring for bamboo. Bamboo. I feel like it is very fitting.
Although, all this fresh air, vegetables, and lack of coffee is making me feel ridiculously healthy and I've been here hardly a week. Another thing that I find I'm fascinated by is how most of the time I can get the gist of their conversations in Portuguese. Sometimes a word is like Spanish, sometimes French, and sometimes I don't remember where it comes from I just know what it means. It's a weird thing though, to understand but to not be able to say one word. And it's even more amazing to be laughing and having a good time while playing with a Portuguese 2 year old and a Latvian 7 year old and realizing that none of us can communicate in each other's languages.
This place is full of curious experiences. It is a meditative retreat.
Day one at my new home for the week on a farm in Portugal.
Me: So what can I do to help out today?
Boss guy: Well, here everything just flows. So I just want you to flow and to do whats best for you.
Me: uh, okay....... (to myself: flow, flow, shoot. what if I don't know how to flow?)
Ha I love it. There are no hours here. We don't force anything. What kind of farm am I working on? The kind that is also a meditative retreat centre. Yay, that's right, do I know how to pick 'em or what.
That's what I thought at the beginning. Then I realized that I may suck at meditating. It may even be against my religion. (Jesus: You have a religion? Me: uh.....well I guess thats debatable..) I could practice praying. (Jesus: you are going to practice praying? Seriously Annie, what are we, eight years old again? Me: okay okay good point.) Oh oh I know! I could do devotions! ( Jesus: are you looking at me? I'm rolling my eyes. Besides, you would want chocolate to do "devotions." Me: Oh ya, didn't think about that one. And boss guy told me that chocolate is the same thing as heroin. That one won't work out either.)
Anyways, you get the picture. This place is too quiet for me. Too peaceful. They even have two kids under the age of three and their house is still peaceful. I think I need hours, and a schedule and a list of things that need to get done. I've spent most of my time weeding and caring for bamboo. Bamboo. I feel like it is very fitting.
Although, all this fresh air, vegetables, and lack of coffee is making me feel ridiculously healthy and I've been here hardly a week. Another thing that I find I'm fascinated by is how most of the time I can get the gist of their conversations in Portuguese. Sometimes a word is like Spanish, sometimes French, and sometimes I don't remember where it comes from I just know what it means. It's a weird thing though, to understand but to not be able to say one word. And it's even more amazing to be laughing and having a good time while playing with a Portuguese 2 year old and a Latvian 7 year old and realizing that none of us can communicate in each other's languages.
This place is full of curious experiences. It is a meditative retreat.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Boat
The 38 hour boat ride really wasn't that bad at all. I was surprised. After enduring weeks of jokes and Debora telling me that I am crazy, well she might not have been the only one come to think of it, I expected only the worse. I think the key to it was that by the time I got on the boat I was dead tired and really just wanted to sleep.
The day before was jam packed with saying goodbye to people, and passing on my friends to Alanna (the new me, in other words the new au pair). We spent a long time on the beach, which, as Alanna pointed out, is extremely exhausting. Then went grocery shopping, out for coffee, then out for dinner. Hard life, I know. By the time we got home it was midnight and guess what I still hadn't done.....packed. I went to bed at 3 a.m.
The next morning we both got up on time and got the boys ready for school. I went to my Spanish class for the last time....again....but don't worry Beatriz, this time I actually did leave, and the rest of the day was a blur of saying goodbye and finishing packing.
So what was the first thing I did when I got on the boat - fell asleep. I fell asleep just to be woken up by a call from Alanna and my friend Echedey needing translations because they don't understand each other.....but it wasn't long before my phone lost reception and all I had left to do in the middle of the ocean was sleep. That or play bingo. I declined on the bingo.
I found that I quite liked the rocking of the boat, thats probably why I slept so much! I didn't get seasick at all. The only eventful thing that really happened besides the bingo and guess the song games going on at the bar was when I discovered that there was water water everywhere and not a drop to drink.
Before I got on I bought a lot of food because I did not want to have to spend a fortune on the ferry. My only problem was that my water bottle was a little small. I finished my water with less than 12 hours to go on the boat and figured that maybe I could make it without have to by a 2 euro bottle at the bar. Yes, I'm becoming cheap again. Unfortunately I woke up at 1 am and decided I was miserably thirsty. At this same moment I heard them closing up the bar. NOOO!! I need water!!! I ran down to the bar and asked for a bottle of water, they weren't done closing the gate. The man looked at me, and said sorry, the bar is closed. But I could see the bottles!! I could almost reach and grab one! I just stood there looking desperate....but is there...? No. the bar is closed.
I really didn't know what I was going to do. It seemed like I was either going to have to wake up a sleeping passenger and beg them for water or drink tap water.....which I haven't done since coming to Spain and maybe don't want the first place I do try to be on a ferry...
I started wandering the boat hoping that by some chance a magic vending machine would appear. Instead I ran into the same guy I saw at the bar. I must have looked really desperate because he kind of just stared at me for a minute and told me to wait there. He came back with two bottles of water and refused my money. haha! Success! And the water was free!
Looking completely helpless always works in the long run. I didn't even have to start crying!
Passport control on the other side is a different story however......but its dinner time so I'll have to muddle over the question of whether or not my visa is actually valid and get back to you.
The day before was jam packed with saying goodbye to people, and passing on my friends to Alanna (the new me, in other words the new au pair). We spent a long time on the beach, which, as Alanna pointed out, is extremely exhausting. Then went grocery shopping, out for coffee, then out for dinner. Hard life, I know. By the time we got home it was midnight and guess what I still hadn't done.....packed. I went to bed at 3 a.m.
The next morning we both got up on time and got the boys ready for school. I went to my Spanish class for the last time....again....but don't worry Beatriz, this time I actually did leave, and the rest of the day was a blur of saying goodbye and finishing packing.
So what was the first thing I did when I got on the boat - fell asleep. I fell asleep just to be woken up by a call from Alanna and my friend Echedey needing translations because they don't understand each other.....but it wasn't long before my phone lost reception and all I had left to do in the middle of the ocean was sleep. That or play bingo. I declined on the bingo.
I found that I quite liked the rocking of the boat, thats probably why I slept so much! I didn't get seasick at all. The only eventful thing that really happened besides the bingo and guess the song games going on at the bar was when I discovered that there was water water everywhere and not a drop to drink.
Before I got on I bought a lot of food because I did not want to have to spend a fortune on the ferry. My only problem was that my water bottle was a little small. I finished my water with less than 12 hours to go on the boat and figured that maybe I could make it without have to by a 2 euro bottle at the bar. Yes, I'm becoming cheap again. Unfortunately I woke up at 1 am and decided I was miserably thirsty. At this same moment I heard them closing up the bar. NOOO!! I need water!!! I ran down to the bar and asked for a bottle of water, they weren't done closing the gate. The man looked at me, and said sorry, the bar is closed. But I could see the bottles!! I could almost reach and grab one! I just stood there looking desperate....but is there...? No. the bar is closed.
I really didn't know what I was going to do. It seemed like I was either going to have to wake up a sleeping passenger and beg them for water or drink tap water.....which I haven't done since coming to Spain and maybe don't want the first place I do try to be on a ferry...
I started wandering the boat hoping that by some chance a magic vending machine would appear. Instead I ran into the same guy I saw at the bar. I must have looked really desperate because he kind of just stared at me for a minute and told me to wait there. He came back with two bottles of water and refused my money. haha! Success! And the water was free!
Looking completely helpless always works in the long run. I didn't even have to start crying!
Passport control on the other side is a different story however......but its dinner time so I'll have to muddle over the question of whether or not my visa is actually valid and get back to you.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Me voy!
Goodbye summer, it´s been a good seven months. Hopefully my my tan lines will last until you return!
Friday, January 14, 2011
Is it possible to be addicted to the sun?
I really didn't think that I was going to like this place so much. I guess I thought that I would grow tired of the never ending sun and possibly tired of being an au pair as I have now spent a grand total of 13 months of my life carrying this title.
-oh oh side note : I'm sitting outside and a lizard just popped his head up through the deck like right beside me. He is now keeping very still and staring at me. The lizard in my room finally found his way out. Or at least he found his way to the laundry room, lived there for a few days, then escaped to the garage. This one staring at me is different though, he's quite a bit bigger. Still staring at me. These little creatures amuse me, kinda like penguins. ha or not at all.
But the thing is the sun is just so warm. I also think waking up to a cloudless blue sky every morning really effects your mood. It makes you happy :) Just like cheerios make you cheery. And there were times when I was becoming weary of being an au pair but all it really takes to get over that is going away for 2 weeks and then being welcomed back at the door by an enthusiastic little boy exclaiming "Ann! You come back!"
But I am leaving. I was going to leave today but, well, now I'm leaving next week. My host mom asked me to stay one more week so I can be here when the new au pair comes and help her get settled in. I was hesitant to stay as its starting to seem like I 'm just never going to leave but here I am, darkening my tan.
I think that the biggest reason I wasn't expecting to get attached to this place was that, as I realized a few weeks ago, my reason for coming back to Europe was never to learn Spanish. This surprised me when I realized this. I was on the bus going back home after my last Spanish class and I was thinking about how I really liked Spanish and how I wasn't really serious about learning it when I arrived, yes I wanted to learn something but I wasn't thinking that I was going to try and become fluent or anything, but maybe now I would like to keep on studying it. These thoughts were going around in my head when suddenly I was like, wait, the reason I came here wasn't to learn Spanish? That's what I told everyone I was coming here to do. Why are you going to Spain? To learn Spanish. It's the most logical reason. But no, really I just wanted to come here to wander. I wanted to come back to Europe to do whatever I want and not have to have a definite schedule of events and purposes. I only used the excuse of learning Spanish to have a valid reason to leave again.
However, in the middle of using excuses to get to what I really want I have found that I really love languages and would probably be very happy if for the rest of my life I could just keep on learning new ones. Maybe I'll do just that. But in the meantime, next week I am going to start doing what I really wanted to do, I'm leaving on a boat for Portugal (and winter as people keep reminding me!) and going to wander. Don't worry, I have more definite plans than that but have run out of time and need to go catch a bus! I'll write again soon!
-oh oh side note : I'm sitting outside and a lizard just popped his head up through the deck like right beside me. He is now keeping very still and staring at me. The lizard in my room finally found his way out. Or at least he found his way to the laundry room, lived there for a few days, then escaped to the garage. This one staring at me is different though, he's quite a bit bigger. Still staring at me. These little creatures amuse me, kinda like penguins. ha or not at all.
But the thing is the sun is just so warm. I also think waking up to a cloudless blue sky every morning really effects your mood. It makes you happy :) Just like cheerios make you cheery. And there were times when I was becoming weary of being an au pair but all it really takes to get over that is going away for 2 weeks and then being welcomed back at the door by an enthusiastic little boy exclaiming "Ann! You come back!"
But I am leaving. I was going to leave today but, well, now I'm leaving next week. My host mom asked me to stay one more week so I can be here when the new au pair comes and help her get settled in. I was hesitant to stay as its starting to seem like I 'm just never going to leave but here I am, darkening my tan.
I think that the biggest reason I wasn't expecting to get attached to this place was that, as I realized a few weeks ago, my reason for coming back to Europe was never to learn Spanish. This surprised me when I realized this. I was on the bus going back home after my last Spanish class and I was thinking about how I really liked Spanish and how I wasn't really serious about learning it when I arrived, yes I wanted to learn something but I wasn't thinking that I was going to try and become fluent or anything, but maybe now I would like to keep on studying it. These thoughts were going around in my head when suddenly I was like, wait, the reason I came here wasn't to learn Spanish? That's what I told everyone I was coming here to do. Why are you going to Spain? To learn Spanish. It's the most logical reason. But no, really I just wanted to come here to wander. I wanted to come back to Europe to do whatever I want and not have to have a definite schedule of events and purposes. I only used the excuse of learning Spanish to have a valid reason to leave again.
However, in the middle of using excuses to get to what I really want I have found that I really love languages and would probably be very happy if for the rest of my life I could just keep on learning new ones. Maybe I'll do just that. But in the meantime, next week I am going to start doing what I really wanted to do, I'm leaving on a boat for Portugal (and winter as people keep reminding me!) and going to wander. Don't worry, I have more definite plans than that but have run out of time and need to go catch a bus! I'll write again soon!
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