(We’re just outside the town of St. Romain de Colbosc)

It’s about a kilometre to the nearest town and after breakfast off I went. We had cycled here yesterday but took a left turn and went to the big supermarket and in doing so missed a vibrant town. Full of shops. And people! Not always a given in French towns. But this place is different, it’s a bit of a Tardis. It seems small but one left turn and you are in a completely different space.

(The flower shop and just past it, my cafe)

This morning I was open to experiencing a different space and I found it. The main square. There was a bar/cafe so of course I ordered a cafe and on enquiring about a croissant was sent across the road to the Boulanger. When I got back my coffee was ready. Of course I sat outside and watched the world go by and there was plenty of the world going by here.

(My boulanger)

Sitting outside is lovely at the moment as the temperature is just right (about 20 degrees) to do so without shivering. While drinking and munching I checked out the other clientele and the vast array of shops. Here’s what I spotted: eight hairdressers, two Boulanger’s, two pharmacies, an estate agent, a shoe shop, a newsagent, at least three bars, the post office, the police station, at least 10 ATMs, a clothes shop and a wool/sewing/underwear shop! There’s also two big supermarkets on the outskirts of town and yet all this commerce continues to survive within the town. How do they do that?

(Small supermarket and organic shop)

While I have been sitting here I have been lucky enough to spot some French kissing – the polite kind. Some of you will know our friend Thierry from Greystones (and France) who makes great pâté (La Paysan, found in all good SuperValu stores!!!) anyway, I practice French kissing him whenever I can (again, the polite kind…) but sitting here I realize it’s way more complicated that I realised.

(There’s a barometer up high on the Ville de Reunion)

So, there’s a couple of women sitting out here having a coffee and a chat and beside them at a different table is a young man enjoying a coffee, with his baby in a buggy beside him. Then along comes a different woman who spots the sitting-down-having-a-coffee lady and without a word heads straight for her and in a very graceful silent move leans right in to kiss her cheek and follows up with her other cheek. In another swift graceful movement she bypasses the sitting lady’s companion and heads straight in to kiss the young man on both cheeks. My question: how does she choose who to kiss? And who to ignore? A how does she not frighten the life out of people with this sudden kissing?

I obviously need more practice, Mairead.

We’re in the UK at the moment but last weekend I went for a walk in the West of Ireland and this is that story.

I have been saying YES rather than NO to walking lately. Maybe it’s because of the Camino. When Julie asked me and another friend, Molly, to join her on a some walks near her hometown of Swinford, I said YES. 

 

 
Sure why wouldn’t I? Julie was going to be driving us, her sister Maire was cooking for us, her Dad was welcoming us into their house and I’d even have my own room (no worries about the snoring then? Breaking news: Molly could hear me snoring from her room.) 

 

 
We (Julie, Molly and I) set off on the journey on Friday evening and Julie’s cousin, Mary, would be joining us on Saturday afternoon.

 

 
Saturday morning early (kinda early 9.30 ish…) we drove to Pontoon. Like me, you may know Pontoon only as a card game but it’s a place near the town of Foxford. I don’t think we ever got to Pontoon. We were so taken by photogenic Pontoon Bridge there was no time to see the place. Instead we drove around Lough Conn, through Ballina and on to the magnificent beach at Inishcrone. 

 

 
This is a truly beautiful place. The sun shone down on us making it necessary to say: Isn’t Ireland the most beautiful place in the world? It is. We walked until hunger sent us back to Ballina for lunch but we left Inishcrone reluctantly. 

 

 
Julie had planned a different walk for the afternoon so we collected Mary and set off for Turlough and the Country Life Museum. We did a quick tour of the car park and found the Greenway path. The Greenway is a walking/cycling path through the countryside. We set off for Castlebar 7km away.

 

 
The sun continued to shine on us as we passed through farmland, over magic bridges (Mary said they were…) and around paddling calves.

 

 
It was past 6pm when we got to Castlebar and although the plan had been to walk back to the car, someone (might have been me…) remembered that Maire (Julie’s sister) had offered to pick us up if we were too tired to walk back to Turlough. I was definitely too tired. Maire picked us up. Then she cooked our dinner. Dinner goes on very late in the West. I was feeling tired again.

 

 
Sunday morning and a different walk around one of the Callow Loughs near Swinford. This time we passed ancient walls and old stone cottages and bog fields with sods of turf drying in the sun. Maire joined us on this walk but not before she put Sunday lunch in the oven. 

 

 
By the time we sat down for that lunch on Sunday afternoon we had walked almost 30km and Maire had cooked for almost 30 people. They must make them strong in the West, I fell asleep on the way home in the car. 

Fortunately Julie was driving… Mairead.

The journey’s over and I’m back home, back to normal… or maybe a new normal.

Before leaving Portugal I got a chance to do touristy things. We were in the town of Tomar, a two hour train ride north of Lisbon. It’s a pretty town on a river but the main attraction is up on the hill. 

 

 
Convento de Christo used to be a Templar Knights castle in the 12th century. Then it was a convent. Now it’s an historic monument on the UNESCO World Heritage List.

I really loved this place. We walked through corridors open on one side overlooking a courtyard on to the next corridor with courtyard, on and on. I could have spent all day here and not seen everything. It was raining, birds were singing, the sounds were magical. 

 

 
Next day we returned to Lisbon for our flight home. We took a two hour train ride and passed through some of the towns we had walked into this week. It was strange seeing places we had passed on foot. Remembering the places we had stayed, the angels we had met, the battle wounds we had survived, the beauty we had witnessed and the pain, oh the pain. All the time following little yellow arrows. 

Before I left home to go on this trip I had a few concerns…. How could I possibly walk the distances required? How could I live so closely with five people? I often wake myself up snoring, what if I wake the people I’m sharing a bedroom with? What if I can’t sleep in a strange place? Or if the bedroom is too hot or too cold? What if I get bitten and swell up and have to go to the hospital (that was one of those middle of the night manic thoughts…)? What if I get blisters and can’t walk? What if the heat is so intense I can’t keep walking?

When I was packing I tried to cover all these concerns. I bought a new top of the range water bottle to keep hydrated. The seasoned walkers had the plastic bottles the water comes in… lighter and free. When I lost my amazing bottle on the last day in Lisbon I was more excited by the weight saving than I was upset about losing such a good-looking product!

 

 
I bought a super light (not super light enough, though) sleeping bag and carried it back home unused. Many times I wanted to leave it behind but didn’t…. Just in case.

I did snore but it turns out everybody snores, I wasn’t any louder than anyone else (unless my room mates were lying to me?) 

When I couldn’t walk the distances there was a simple solution – I stopped. When the sun was too hot I found shade. I didn’t swell up or have to go to the hospital and when I got blisters I used the Compeed stuff.

 

 
And as for living closely with five other people… I needn’t have worried. In their company I let go of so many hangups I should probably pay them! Instead of money though, I’ll offer my gratitude. 

Thank you, Alison, Madge, Mary, Rita and Jean. And thank you to the one who made me believe I could do this – Laura.

I did it, Mairead.

 

I joined the early group of walkers yesterday morning. Early means setting off at 6.30am. That always seemed like such a good idea when I lie in my bed at home but I never get out of my bed to check. Yesterday I checked. It is a very good idea!

The air was cool and the sun was rising and all around us people were setting off to work. We were setting off to walk. 

 

 Remember I said there were four experienced walkers along with two newbies? The thing I didn’t explain was that the experienced Camino walkers are very organized. They don’t think they are – they joke about it all the time – but I think they are. For one thing they have books and printed blogs to guide us…. this might seem like an obvious addition but remember they are carrying those books for ever kilometer they walk. 

Anyway there we were, the three early risers. I was half-listening to the instructions and tips as the other two read from their books. All was going really well, really well…. until we passed a couple of gate posts. 

 

 As we sauntered straight past we could see there were beautiful yellow flowers growing in front of them, pretty. An hour later we saw the beautiful flowers again when we revisited the gate posts… We had missed the yellow arrow pointing left behind the flowers.

We had walked on, oblivious, enjoying hedge-less crop fields. We trudged over rutted farm roads. We marvelled at the height of the bamboo. It was only when we came to a junction and there was no guiding arrow that we realised there might be a problem…

 

 
From time to time as we’ve walked along these Camino roads we’ve seen workers in the fields. In the blazing sun they plant tiny tomato plants where the automatic planter has left a gap. They wave Bem Dia but we have never had a chance to talk to them…. until now. 

Madge spotted them at the other side of the field and off we went to ask for their help. She explained our problem using a little Portuguese, a little Spanish and a little English and they understood! They knew exactly where we went wrong and they told us. Unifortunately, our Portuguese  wasn’t up to the challenge.

We thanked them and resigned ourselves to going back the way we had come. That was a sad moment for me (imagine some sad piano music here) because I’m not too fond of the deep ruts) but Rita reminded me that it was a beautiful day and sure what else do we have to do? 

Sad moment over, we retraced our steps. And that’s when the angel appeared!

 

 
In a jeep! One of the workers had taken pity on us when he realised we didn’t understand his directions. He hopped into his jeep,  picked us up…. and returned us via the non rutted field roads to the gate posts! Our thanks was profuse, in Portuguese, Spanish, English and Irish. He seemed to understand because a smile covered his face as he drove away.

The sun was hot, the legs were tired but we floated for kilometers after that.

Sometimes we miss the signs but it turns out there are more than arrows to guide our way, Mairead.

   

 
We got up early this morning and were on the road for 7 ish. I have a new respect for chilly morning air and I’m starting to miss rain…

Before I left Ireland I was excited  at the prospect of carrying my bag each day. I packed carefully, taking only the bare essentials. Well… I thought they were essentials.

 
I happily trotted from the cathedral on day one but as the heat intensified and the road grew longer I began to wonder. By day two this carrying-my-bag thing was much less exciting.

Day 3 brought a new plan… bag collection. This is a miraculous thing. You book your accommodation for the night and a taxi to carry your bags and then you walk unburdened. I was getting excited again. 

 

 
Now I’m sitting on a tree stump. In spite of the lack of a bag I am tired. I did not want to stop. I wanted to push on. Strange. I knew I could stop, I knew it was a good idea to stop but I thought it would be giving up so I kept going for two more kilometers counting my steps to keep my mind occupied.

  

 
Now here I am. I am listening to bird song sitting under the shade of a tree. It is 12.5 km to the next town but I am done. The nice man at our accommodation is sending his wife in the car to collect me. 

Sometimes it’s hard to do the thing you really need to do… Mairead.

 

 
Ps Lovely man’s lovely wife told me that today is the hottest day so far this year. She also brought me cold water! Then I checked my step counter and I had walked 25.6km! I am excited again!

We are following signs. Arrows like the one in the picture above. They will always be painted yellow. Alison, one of the seasoned walkers, told me it’s even a particular shade of yellow. Yellow all the way to Santago de Compestello in Spain where the walk eventually ends.

There are also blue arrows. The blue arrows point the way to Fatima. A different journey, a different ending.   

  
Before the arrows were pointed out to me I hadn’t noticed them and now I can’t seem to stop noticing them. They are very comforting. They seem to say yes, yes you’re on the right track, keep going!

 

 
We walked from the starting point at the cathedral in Lisbon. It was hot. I was tired but each time I saw a yellow arrow I was comforted all over again.

You’re on the right track, keep going, Mairead.

   It took about a week to get to Lisbon last time. It will take two and half hours today. It’s neither better nor worse doing it this way. It’s just different. 

  For one thing the man sitting beside me is not my husband. I don’t know who he is but already I’m very interested in him.

For another the lovely Ryanair (yes, I know!) flight attendant was very helpful when I got to my seat with all my worldly possessions on my back. He smiled, opened the overhead locker and placed my bag inside. It was then he noticed the walking sticks and the water bottle but his smile didn’t falter as he did his best to shove everything in. 

 

Everything wouldn’t fit.

That’s when I got interested in the man beside me. I’m sitting in a window seat and the bag returned to me over his head. Straps trailing ON his head… I apologised but he didn’t respond. Oh he’s annoyed with me. 

I don’t like when people are annoyed with me, but that’s not a useful way to be… this seems like the perfect opportunity to undo this kind of thinking.

 So I started paying close attention and already I’ve learned something big – he’s not annoyed with me! How do I know? I started looking for evidence that he wasn’t annoyed with me and found some.

As soon as the plane left the gate he stopped chatting with his friend and when the plane started to speed down the runway he grabbed both arm rests tightly… white-knuckle tightly. Oh….he’s nervous not annoyed. 

Well maybe I’m just not annoying…  Mairead.