Stop Talking to Fear

February 20, 2017 | Mairead

(Very nicely located car park at Entrago)

We left Cangas de Onis this morning and set off for our next home. It’s a small village called Entrago, with a car park in the Picos mountain range that allows camper vans to stay overnight. I am sitting outside in the sun as I write which is very pleasant. There is a breeze but as the sun is a little warmer than I’m used to. All is well.

(A strange convoy of caterpillars… asking a question?)

When we picked this spot I had no idea we would be travelling through the Picos on route. Probably just as well. Before we set off Denis put the gps location into his sat nav and there was a choice of a shorter route or a longer route… Hmm, something shouted in my head “Take the longer route!” and I think it was Fear… I was more than willing to listen to Fear, but Denis wasn’t…. so we took the shorter route…

(Some of the Picos)

It was narrow and windy and steep (23% gradient) and I fervently promised to spend more time listening to Fear in the future if he would only make this scary bit better, NOW… he didn’t. I hate Fear.

(Beautiful Picos)

And then there was a break in the trees and we spotted the most amazing sight. Hundreds of mountains stretching off towards the horizon, the furthest covered in snow. There was no place to stop the van, there was no opportunity to take a picture I just had to enjoy the moment before it passed and try to remember how beautiful it was and how amazing it made me feel. And I was able to stop making promises to Fear and start paying attention to what was passing so quickly all around me. Beauty. It generates a very different feeling. Kinda mushy and kinda strong all at the same time.

Picos

(More Picos)

I had completely made peace with getting no photographic reminders when just ahead we saw a bus (a bus came up that road?!) parked… in a grand big car park! We would be able to stop after all and we did and I got some pictures for you… and for me and for Beauty and there’s none for Fear.

Step 2. Stop talking to Fear… Mairead.

I think… a lot

March 17, 2016March 16, 2016 | Mairead

(The rocks at the lighthouse near Sagres, Portugal)

It’s coming towards the end of this journey and as always my mind stops living in the present and moves ahead. It’s very counter productive because on the one hand I am thinking about leaving and missing this lifestyle and on the other hand if I’m thinking about leaving then I’m no longer here! So I’ve left the travelling already… two weeks before it ends! I used to do the same thing when I got a massage. The session would hardly have started before I’d be thinking, I wonder how much time is left, I wish this would last longer….

(Port with little lighthouse near Sagres)

For the past two weeks I’ve been meditating using Headspace and that’s how I recognised that I was in this pattern again. During the fifteen minutes of the meditation, the guide, whose name is Andy, reminds you to pay attention to your breath and count along with the in breathe and the out breath to ten and if you get distracted by thoughts or feelings to stop the counting. Then notice you had a thought or feeling and go back to counting the breaths. I used to think that I couldn’t meditate because I was continuously distracted by thoughts but now I realise that the distractions are the place where I learn what I’m doing to myself.

(This guy was in the campsite at Luz, Portugal)

And the thing that I’m doing to myself, is thinking… constantly thinking. Thinking about the future, the past, the bad things that could happen, the good things that could happen, the things I might miss, the things I did wrong, the hurt I caused, the apologies I could make, I didn’t make, I can’t make. These thoughts have an impact on my mood, my well-being, my mental health, my relationships, my productivity, my sanity! Since restarting meditation I have been noticing my thinking as it distracts me for a fifteen minute section of the day. (For the other 23 hours and 45 minutes each day I hardly ever realise I am continuously thinking.) For fifteen minutes a day I cannot stop those thoughts but I can notice them and then return to counting my breaths and that helps.

(Gibraltar, of course)

Today, in the meditation Andy asked me (it’s pre-recorded, he’s not actually talking to me…) to consider the bigger picture. To consider everyone I meet is doing exactly the same thing to themselves. Everyone I meet or see on the street or hear in the shop is doing this to themselves. And they can’t stop. We can’t stop the thinking of the thoughts, the best we can do is to notice it and then return to what’s actually happening. For the rest of this journey I will be practicing returning to what is actually happening here, because I’m still here, even if my thoughts are not.

One teeny, tiny, baby step at a time, Mairead.

P.S. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Ireland!

Where the firemen go for coffee….

February 12, 2016February 11, 2016 | Mairead

(Unusual house in Castro Verde. It was the talk of the town in the 1900’s because of the creative use of the latest building material – cement)

It’s been raining here for a couple of days. I can see the birds digging for worms in the damp grass. They seem very excited – a feast. After being stuck inside all day yesterday I was excited myself to get out of Ruby this afternoon. I put on my coat and went on a photo walk. We’re in a town called Castro Verde, about an hour from Beja. Because of this town I have learned two more Portuguese words: Castro means castle and Verde means green. I can tell you it came in very handy when I was asking for green tea (tea is Chá, like they say in Cork!)

(I love the streetscapes in Portuguese towns but I can’t seem to reproduce what I see in a photo)

There’s lots of art in the environment pieces around the town and as I was taking photos of one I saw the fire station… One day when we were out walking in Beja we passed a cafe and I was just about to step inside when I noticed the name Cafe de Bombeiro. We thought Bombeiro meant Fire Station and sure enough the cafe was part of the fire station. So we didn’t go in… says I, must be for the firemen. But then today I spotted another Cafe de Bombeiro – in a fire station too. Why are there cafes at the Fire Stations and do I have to be a Fireman to go in?

(See the flowering tree?)

I thought about the firemen for a while but then the rain came back and I went back to Ruby. Via the supermarket. It’s always interesting to look at the unusual food on the shelves and in the fridges. I’ve been looking for something for a week now and each new supermarket I go into I search it out. I’m searching for Milton, the stuff you use to sterilise babies’ bottles. It’s a mild bleach and I was using it to keep the grey water tank (washing up water) smelling lovely. The bottle was nearly empty when we left and now it’s all gone, so I’ve been searching. Today, as usual, I started looking in the baby section but then I went to the cleaning section where I spotted the toilet bleach products and that’s when I wondered…

(This area is the bread basket of Portugal – this is one of the art in the environment pieces)

Why did I put bleach in my babies’ bottles? Of course everyone did it. It was recommended. I got free samples. Hmm… It’s funny what we don’t notice about the things we do every day, the things we use every day, the things we see every day. Standing in this Portuguese supermarket the effort to make sense of the words and the products and the aisles has shaken my beliefs. A cafe full of fireman might be just what I need.

Portugal is making me doubt my reality, Mairead.

Beja: The Promised Land

January 29, 2016January 28, 2016 | Mairead

Mapa

(We got a map, Lar!)

We’ve been in a bit of a wilderness. Still on our journey south, in search of warm air and bright skies. From time to time we find them. Then we can’t find a place to stay… We found both in Beja, a very old town in the Alentejo region of Portugal. That (very big) region stretches between the Atlantic sea and Spain and from above the north-east of Lisbon to the Algarve.

Portugal Mine Village

(Oranges growing by the path in the mine village!)

Being in the wilderness has had some surprising bonuses, but first some surprising downsides… We found a great camper van parking area in Grandola (it’s west of Beja, if you’re plotting our journey, Sally – btw in primary school we used to plot the routes of huge cargo ships travelling the world) within walking distance of a big supermarket (where they sold Kerrygold cheese… we didn’t even know there was such a thing) on one side and a small town on the other. All was well until six am when the truck drivers arrived to start their day. Trucks make a very loud noise when they start up. They were all gone by the time we were having breakfast.

Beja Street

(Street in Beja)

The following night we thought we had the perfect spot, a camper van car park near an old mine museum, closed when we arrived but would be open in the morning. To add to its attractiveness there were two other campers parked when we arrived. It was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by farmland, roads too potholed for big trucks, perfect. Well… it had just got dark when Jimmy (name changed) arrived, I thought he was from one of the other campers but it turned out he was a down on his luck Dutchman needing the train fare to Lisbon… He didn’t like Anchovies but he had some ham and cheese instead.

Beja House Tiles

(Lots of houses have tiles on the outside)

Then we arrived in Beja. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, the reviews of the site were not glowing. But I needn’t have worried. There are toilets with toilet paper and soap and paper towels. There’s electricity. There are no trucks. There is no sign of Jimmy. The main bonus of travelling through the wilderness is that on the other side you are so happy when the basics are covered. The wilderness has lowered our expectations. I was wondering why that was a good thing and I think it’s because our expectations force us to fulfil them. If we don’t fill them then we are dissatisfied….

Even if we already have enough of everything, Mairead.

When the Rains Came Back…

October 6, 2015October 5, 2015 | Mairead

(A kite surfer on his way home on Saturday evening. By the way that red sky at night didn’t bring a shepherd’s delight…)

It’s been raining continuously here since early Sunday morning and the two of us are getting plenty of practice at being together in a confined space… We’ve had rain before on this trip but we knew we could move along if it persisted and although sometimes we waited a couple of days to be sure it was persisting we knew we could get away from it if we really wanted to. We can’t get away anymore. The forecast is rain for the next two days, then on the third day we will be going home.

(Could be a sea urchin?)

We’ve had rain before at home too, but sitting here, I can’t remember what I did on a rainy Sunday… What did I do? Probably watched television. We don’t have a television. We do have internet and we could watch YouTube videos, but it’s very slow. Fortunately, I brought a crate-full of crafty things so I have plenty to do. I spent most of yesterday doodling.

(Can you see his eyes?)

It’s not cold but when we go visiting the photogenic toilets (thank you Thierry for the translation: Vos chiotes sont tres photogeniques!) we get a little damp and then it’s lovely to turn on the heating! Yes we have heating! The gas that powers the hob, the oven and the fridge also blows warm air through our little home when necessary. Because it’s a small space it doesn’t take much to heat it, in fact when Denis cooks the dinner (yes, he’s still cooking) it’s also toasty in here.

(Lots of shells on the beach plus a little bit of seaweed)

Anyway, the rain stopped at about midday and I rambled out to the beach to take some more pictures… but the smell. As I may have said before I grew up in Cashel, Co. Tipperary. One of county Tipperary’s claims to fame is that it’s Ireland’s largest inland county. Which is a great honour… but it means that there’s no sea. As a child a trip to the seaside involved days of travelling. Well, it seemed like days… but it was probably only a couple of hours. About a mile away from our destination, my Dad driving, my Mam in the front, my brother and me in the back (our sister not yet born) the windows were rolled down and we caught our first smell of… seaweed. Even today the smell of seaweed makes me happy! Ah seaweed.

(Look! Not a butterfly but a mussel pretending to be a butterfly. Saw this and thought of you, Cathy!)

I read somewhere that we are wired for pleasure, simple pleasure. Pleasure receptors are located very close to where we receive information from our senses. From the smells or tastes or touch or sights or sounds around us we have the ability to derive pleasure. From the dictionery pleasure is a feeling of happy satisfaction and enjoyment. How incredibly simple and free and even freeing.

Don’t wait, be happy now, Mairead.

Gratitude… for some simple things

September 23, 2015September 22, 2015 | Mairead

(No life threatening stunts were necessary for this photo)

We’ve moved a few miles further from Carcassonne. In the countryside but near a small town with all the necessities – bakery and grocery shop. There’s also a butchers but we haven’t had to resort to meat yet… yet. Lucky, there’s also a cemetery right next door so very quiet at night. We’re staying here for a few days so Denis can catch up with work.

(Wash Day)

Funny thing happened to me when I realised we would be making a base for a while – I started looking forward to housework! Granted there’s not a lot of housework here but still it was a surprise to me. So I did some clothes washing and because it was such a warm day yesterday everything was dry very fast. Although we did seen to be letting the neighbourhood down with all our string lines.

(Wash Day continues)

It seems we have sorted out our initial problems with fridge stocking too because now we eat all the time in the camper. When we travelled on the motorbike (or in the car) we usually stopped on route for a break and then of course we had a coffee and probably something to eat. Now when we stop we have something from our supplies, much like we do at home. It saves a lot of money and in the long run will allow us to go for longer each time we travel. We do love French coffee so we have that out but we think of it as a treat and we appreciate it much more because it’s rare. Denis has been doing most of the cooking. (I would say ALL of the cooking but I did cook two of the nights!) He seems to enjoy cooking. I definitely enjoy his enjoyment. I do all the dishes thought… it’s hard but I feel I should help out 😉 (Bairbre, if you’re still reading skip the next photo!)

(Look… a new friend)

We’ve met some nice people on our travels. I think we were at our third campsite when we met a couple from Yorkshire. (Hello the Brophy-Laws – the relations in Yorkshire) They gave us the best tip so far… wash the dishes in the campsite sinks (saves water and bottled gas and you meet people) and use the campsite bathrooms (it’s time to describe the toilet facilities…) If you’re of a delicate disposition you might want to skip the next paragraph. Don’t worry there will be NO pictures.

(Ok, when I said NO pictures, I meant no terrible pictures. That little rectangular door in the picture is the door you unlock… full details below)

So… there’s a bathroom (toilet and shower room really) in the camper. The produce of a trip to the bathroom (toilet) goes into the cassette (that’s what they call it!) Every three days the cassette must be emptied. To empty the cassette you unlock (like anyone might steal it) a door near the back of the camper on the passenger side and pull out a box. The box has wheels and a pull out handle (much like a suitcase you might have as carry-on) and you take the walk of shame (the wheels are very loud on the gravel paths and everyone at the campsite knows where you’re going…) to the WC chimique (chemical toilet disposal) where you open the lid and empty your cassette. The WC chimique provides direct access to the sewage system and there’s always a hose nearby to tidy-up. Makes me totally grateful for my bathroom at home.

I’ll save the details about the water tanks for another time, Mairead.

Lost and Alone in Budapest…

May 29, 2014May 29, 2014 | Mairead

29 05d

(Beautiful Buildings)

Budapest is quite beautiful and quite big, so we gave up the walking tour for a bus tour… not our finest hour. Not just because of the lack to exercise but for the choice of tour. Our home for the next two days is situated beside Margaret’s Bridge or as we’re saying now Mairead’s Bridge (Well, I’m the only one saying it… if you don’t know Mairead is the Irish for Margaret… ) And as there’s a bus stop for the tour on the other side of the bridge we went looking for it. Took us a long time meandering around trying to find it with a less than useless map. Eventually Denis went into a chemist to ask for directions while I waited outside taking pictures of all the beautiful buildings.

29 05f

(Mairead’s Bridge… well ok it’s still officially Margaret’s Bridge)

Now, you may not know but as soon as you tell people you’re off to countries like the Czech Republic or Hungary the stories of adventure gone terribly wrong start surfacing. The worst of the stories were generated by the mention of Budapest. (Just as an aside, while we’ve been away I’m keeping up with news of car hijackings around Ireland and murders in Dublin, we’re at the moment attempting to change our flights to land in a safer country…..) While it is very helpful to be wide awake and notice what’s going on around you, it’s not so great to be walking around in fear. It makes the walking around noticing all the amazingly beautiful things very difficult.

29 05c

(Street Scene)

Anyway, there I was on my own with an expensive camera in my hand in Budapest. I didn’t know where I was and I didn’t speak the language, did I mention I was all alone? …and nothing happened.

29 05g

(Beautiful Parliament Building)

Well, nothing bad happened. There was this older man and his wife who practically crawled along the ground so as not to get into the shot I was taking of a building across the street. When I realised the pains they were going to for my art I was mortified and grateful. I said Oh sorry and thank you and smiled. The woman smiled and the man was a joker and said something funny in Hungarian to me and I smiled in return. Of course, I have no idea what he said but I completely know from the way he said it and his body language that he was being nice to me, making a connection with me, encouraging me. That’s what humans do. It’s hard to spot when I’m afraid.

29 05b

(Look at the cute car!)

Meanwhile Denis was in the chemist having little luck explaining in sign language to the people behind the counter what he wanted when one of the customers spoke in English and said he might be able to help. He did help and we found the bus stop but we might have been better off going for a coffee instead.

29 05h

(A public transport bus with the reminder that Budapest is two cities, Buda and Pest)

We’ve had great tours with great guides in Prague and Krakow (sigh) and now we were on a bus listening to a recording. Prague and Krakow have ruined the simple pleasures of a bad bus tour for me…

From lovely Budapest, Mairead.

Old woman, Old man, Woods – Story

October 17, 2013October 17, 2013 | Mairead

1710d

(Patterns… cabbage)

I was watching an art video on YouTube today and it reminded me (long story) that sometimes what other people hear in their heads isn’t what we thought we said. Many years ago I attended a course where one of the things we learned was how to listen to what was being said underneath the words that were being spoken. Anyway, I’m not sure I can explain it a few sentences (or maybe in many) and I’m not sure you want to read it so here’s a compromise, a short story….

1710a

(Patterns… Giants Causeway)

So… once upon a time there was an old woman. She lived in the woods, in a little stone cottage. She had been hurt in love when she was very young and went to live alone in the forest to make sure she didn’t get hurt again. She lived very simply and mostly she was content. Just sometimes she would have loved to have some company. Especially in the evening by the fire as she thought about her day or her week or her life in general.

1710b

(Patterns… garden seat)

Also at this once upon a time, time there was an old man who lived in the same forest, but a good distance away. He was a carpenter and loved being a carpenter and when he got older he saw no reason to stop being a carpenter so he continued to make things from wood in his workshop, in the shed. He had been happily married for years but three years ago his wife died. He missed her and talked to her most days as he worked.

1710c

(Patterns… Altamont Gardens near Bunclody)

One day the old woman was going for a walk in the woods, she had a lot on her mind, took a wrong turn and ended up outside the old man’s workshop. It was a moment before she realised there was someone in the shed and the old man didn’t see her at all. So she remained silent and watched as he worked. And she thought, He must have been hurt too, poor man, he looks so sad. As if he heard her the old man suddenly looked up and said, Hello there, lovely day, isn’t it? Before she could reply, the old woman thought, Poor fellow, he’s trying to put a brave face on it, I’ll try to cheer him up.

1710f

(Patterns… Christmas snow and clothes pegs in Leeds)

Anyway, they got into conversation (as you do in these situations) and chatted away for about twenty minutes until (as happens in these situations) one or other of them made a move to carry on with their day. As the old woman walked back to her cottage, she thought, That poor man, it’s so sad. And back at the workshop the old man was telling his dead wife all about the lovely cheerful woman he had just met.

1710e

(Patterns… cobblestones in Hungary)

Sometimes I think we hear only what we know must be true, Mairead.

Attention! Losing, Seeking and Paying.

October 15, 2013October 16, 2013 | Mairead

1510a

(The tea shop in France…)

I was in a coffee shop yesterday with Denis. It was a new one so I was spending some time looking around at the decor, which I liked. Followed by some time looking around at the clientele, which was fun. Then our hot drinks arrived and we chatted until some more people sat down beside us. And you know how sometimes other people’s conversation is much more interesting than anything you think your husband/partner/friend might be going to say? So you stop listening to them and start listening to the other people?

1510b

( where the sugar cubes were little hearts…)

Of course, I tend to maintain an air of listening to my companion in these situations, just in case the other people realise I am listening to them and lower their voices. I cannot risk the chance of them lowering their voices because I already have to strain to overhear adjacent conversations… While maintaining this air of listening, I also aim my gaze into the distance. This seems to help my hearing but also indicates to my husband that I am indeed not listening to him and he can and in fact should lower his voice.

1510c

( and the cake came in two slices… per person!)

Unfortunately, for some reason though the couple I had my eye/ear on were not very clear in their communication. Well to be precise they did seem to be making sense to each other but not to me. I was tempted to lean in closer but that rarely, in my experience of listening to adjacent conversations, helps. So I didn’t lean in and it was at that moment that my far away gaze fell on another group. I had spotted them earlier. An older couple (actually not that much older than myself…) with a little girl of maybe two years old. Grandparents.

1510d

( and where we tested the egg timer to make sure it really was three minutes)

I had noticed them earlier because manoeuvring themselves, the little girl, the buggy, the seats and the table seemed to take up all of their attention. Now I was noticing them for a different reason. The little girl was looking up into her granddad’s face concentrating completely on his every word or movement or… I don’t really know what was holding her attention but it was complete and it was adorable.

So I went back to paying attention to the one I was with… Mairead.

Travel stories

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