Feeling the Sky

September 30, 2016 | Mairead

(Star rising)

I wish I could show you the sky last night. It was the same as the sky above you but maybe you weren’t outside. Or maybe you were busy and you forgot to look up. Anyway, last night the sun started to set at 7.30pm and by 8.30pm I was sitting outside. I thought of taking a picture but they just don’t look the same and anyway it’s the feeling of being outside combined with the looking up that makes the difference and no one’s invented the camera to reproduce that… yet.

(We are here)

It felt like I was surrounded by a warm blanket, a knitted one that lets the light in, but in small pin holes. The blanket was black and dark black in the places where the trees blocked the sky. Surrounded by the blanket I felt safe and loved. I read somewhere recently the exact amount of time it takes for the light from a star to reach our eyes on earth. I can’t remember the number now but it was big – years and years. I heard that before but a bit like forgetting to look up at the sky I forgot that we live on a small rock in the middle of a huge space…

(Coffee and cards)

I worry about lots of little things. Like being late for something. Like saying something stupid. Like insulting someone unintentionally. Like doing something that makes people think about me. I never consider that people might be thinking something lovely, I worry that they are thinking something unlovely. The thing is, people rarely think either lovely or unlovely things about others, they mainly think about themselves… like I do when I worry. I worry about big things too. Like the rough seas between Ireland and France. Like the health of my family. Like my children. Like the people who are living in war. Like the people who are escaping war to find peace.

(Isn’t the postal system great, though?)

But then sometimes I don’t worry and I am not afraid… and when I am not afraid I am like I was sitting outside last night under the sky with the light of billions of stars reaching me on this small rock in the middle of a huge space and all is well. I am at peace. I am loved.

(Star setting)

I wished I could show you the sky last night so that you would feel at peace and you would know you are loved, Mairead.

Nearly home…

March 29, 2016March 28, 2016 | Mairead

(Over and under the Millau Bridge)

Ah the journey is nearly over… we are getting closer and closer to Cherbourg and our boat home on Wednesday. We were in Spain the last time I wrote, in pouring rain and although the rain is pouring again we had a week of sunshine. We have started travelling in one hour segments off the toll roads and it was a little disconcerting to begin with but I’m glad we did. We have been in some beautiful places… We decided to go over the Millau Bridge and then under the Millau Bridge on our way to a campsite. The road over it is very wide… the roads under it are not and some of them say No Camping Cars…

(Fog filled campsite in the valley of the Tarn river. There is a hill directly behind the house in the picture)

Finally we reached our campsite on the side of a hill in a village called Saint-Rome-de-Tarn (Midi-Pyrénées). The reception was at the top of the hill and three hairpin bends later we were at our pitch. There would be no climbing back up on foot if we needed anything. We didn’t need anything. And the toilets? They were magnificent! The showers also! Next morning I took the photo above while wondering how we would navigate out in the fog.

(Rising above the fog filled valley)

But I needn’t have worried, there was fog all along the valley but as we drove higher the sun broke through. We stopped to get a picture above the clouds. It’s funny to think that a village up there would be in sunshine with a respectable 9º while twenty minutes down at the river it was 2º.

(Surprise! Chateau!)

We were heading to a camping car overnight parking in the village of Montsalvy (Auvergne) but with twenty minutes to go there was a diversion. No problem, Molly was on hand to find a way… Unfortunately, Molly thinks we are a little smaller that we actually are and tried to send us on paths we might have been hard pushed to fit on walking side by side. We rejected many of them but eventually we took one and had a bit of a mystery tour.

(Can you make out the white van on the road?)

An hour later we stopped at a lay-by on the side of the road to have lunch and took the photo above. It was glorious, cold but sunny so we bundled up and had lunch at the stone picnic table.

(Lunch on top of the mountain. Reward for surviving!)

We set off again full of smiles. Then the road got narrower. We entered at least five villages where we weren’t sure if we could squeeze between the houses, let alone what would happen if we met another car. There were no other cars. There was a tractor. When I saw it coming I covered my eyes! But they must make them brave around here because even though he was on the steep drop side he drove up on the kerb and was gone before I remembered to breathe. Viva les français!

(Each camper space had a hardstanding, hedge of privacy (!) a grassy area and a picnic table!)

We left the day foggy campsite at 9am and sometime in the afternoon we finally arrived at Montsalvy our home for the night. Because it’s winter (I think that’s what the sign said) there would be no electricity, no water and no toilets, but it was completely free and very pretty.

(I got very excited when I saw this shop. They sell craft paper! No, they office supplies!)

I woke in the middle of the night and thinking it might be morning looked out the window. There was a full moon and all the trees were silhouettes. No pictures but I took one the next morning. In black and white it’s a close-ish proximity to what I saw during the night. Minus the moon. This is like a magic place.

(The view from our bedroom window at the free overnight spot)

I will remember this day for a very long time, Mairead.

Making peace with embarrassment

February 25, 2016February 24, 2016 | Mairead

(Palm tree trunk)

We’re still in Luz so I’m getting comfortable here, starting to feel right at home… which means some of my old habits are popping up. (By the way, I’m working away happily on my book so that’s probably why I keep thinking of habits and beliefs.)

(Lagos, old town)

So… one of my habits is, I see something I want to do but just before I do it, I think, “nooo, I would look stupid, much too embarrassing to do that!” Then afterwards when I don’t do it I feel a bit miserable for not doing it. A bit of a misery cycle. This habit is masking a couple of beliefs. The one that stops me doing the thing I want to do: What other people think of me is important and it needs to be positive. And the one that makes me feel miserable when I don’t do it: Trying new things is really good for my health. A bit of a self-judgemental cycle.

(Like blue sky)

At the same time I have returned to meditation, fifteen minutes every morning. And there’s something useful in the meditation practice that can help me untangle the misery and self-judgemental cycles. It’s about noticing whatever it is you’re feeling, just noticing, not thinking, just noticing… in your body. Not in your head, in your body. (Over emphasising might be a habit too?)

(Blue water, blue boat, blue jacket, blue hat)

So… I’m practicing meditation on my embarrassment. Each day (since Monday) I do one thing that I know would cause me to feel embarrassed and I notice what that’s like. In. My. Body. Monday morning I went to the outdoor gym! I had been looking at the equipment since last Wednesday when we arrived, thinking that looks like fun! Then the misery/self-judgemental cycle began, so I didn’t dare.

(Boat for sale…)

But on Monday morning I got into my baggy pants and approached the gym area. Slowly. Giving me time to notice the embarrassment and I noticed it… but it was a bit different. Too late to turn back I arrived at the area and there’s another camper doing gym things (and doing them really well) smiling and saying hello. Having a lot of embarrassing thoughts now but remembering just in time to NOTICE IN MY BODY I squeak out, Hi, which one of these is good for a beginner?

(Cobblestones)

She is really friendly, Dutch or German I think and delighted to point me towards a swing-swong kind of thing and I start swinging and it is fun. So much so that I try a stand-up-rowing machine thing next but that’s a bit harder. Just as I start to feel stupid and think this is too hard I remember to NOTICE IN MY BODY and I slow down and it’s ok. Feeling embarrassed is actually ok… the thing that’s upsetting is the thinking about being embarrassed, the thinking about the people watching, the thinking about the people who are good at this fun thing.

(Rocks and sea at Luz… doesn’t it look like Greystones? Or does everything remind us of Ireland?)

Sooo, I’m stand-up-rowing with a smile on my face and a hello for all the people walking by and my new Dutch or German friend says, the hardest thing is to stop yourself competing with other people, just do your best. Well, wasn’t that lovely? I feel quite emotional all of a sudden. I’m rowing away and I’m thinking this embarrassment thing isn’t so bad. Then a group of six toned Swedish women jog past and I wave and nearly fall off my stand-up-rowing machine.

There should be a health warning on these machines, Mairead.

Feeling some madness…

October 7, 2015October 6, 2015 | Mairead

(Can you see this kite surfing guy’s feet and surfboard are out of the water?)

It rained a lot last night. Lots of rain, lots of wind. Teeny tiny bit of sleep. Not feeling too bubbly today. So I’m reminded of something Eckhart Tolle wrote “When you complain you make yourself a victim. Leave the situation, change the situation or accept it. All else is madness.” It’s kinda nice to find patterns in the things you see and experience and relate them to the way you feel inside, isn’t it? I think so. I think it helps to understand the feelings inside.

(This boat was just sitting on the beach this morning… could someone look up French salvage laws, please – we might own a boat)

So, here’s us having a nice old-time wandering around France, minding our own business. Loving the sun and the pleasant temperatures at this time of year. Then, the storms arrive. From nowhere they come…. And one might be tempted to whine and grumble. At home we might say “desperate weather, isn’t it?” to the postman or the assistant in the bank or the next door neighbour.

(More doodling today)

In France I haven’t a clue how to say anything about the weather and when I consider looking it up (or asking Thierry) there’s no incentive to do so. There’s no good that can come out of telling the French people in the camper van next door that it’s raining… They already know. Sometimes it rains. Get over it. There’s at least four guys out on the water doing their kite surfing thing. They’re already wet so a bit of rain doesn’t bug them and the wind is very useful when you have a big huge kite.

(Fence post with organic decoration)

So how’s this relate to feelings? Sometimes we feel down, maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s an insensitive friend, maybe it’s a disappointment – life can be very disappointing. So we talk to ourselves or others with words something like “desperate feeling, I’m having”. Maybe we whine a bit, grumble a bit and complain some. What if we had to translate our complaints into French (or Swahili if you’re fluent in French) would we bother? Like the rain, the feelings will be gone soon and like the wind for the kite surfers, they are useful – they remind us we’re alive!

Sure isn’t it great to be alive? 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.

Here’s all the news….

October 3, 2015October 4, 2015 | Mairead

(An old pathway leading to the château beside the campsite near Bordeaux)

Well it’s been too long….. I’m starting to get phone calls and texts asking where we are and when are we coming home so it time for a check-in. Last time we chatted (well I chatted, you guys have been very quiet!) we were just outside Carcassonne. Then we moved to Bordeaux, which I loved, lots of vineyards and a beautiful campsite beside a château with loads of birds and loads of birdsong. We also visited a wine cooperative there (hello Dave, we have your wine!) Well… don’t tell Dave but I think it might have just been a one man small business vineyard. He was a lovely man though and his wine was lovely too. The entire transaction was conducted in French. And not just, “I’ll have some of your wine for Dave“, “here you are, hope he likes it” No, we were in his house, shaking hands, patting the dogs, tasting two reds, two whites and a rosé, hearing about their merits, calculating costs, visiting the storeroom and shaking hands goodbye. And he had great hands, working hands. We were delighted with ourselves and with Dave for sending us on a quest…. to a wine cooperative… Mum’s the word, though.

(A very old church in Surgeres)

Then we went to Surgeres which is near La Rochelle. We saw the Blood Red Moon there and coincidentally we heard and felt some Blood-sucking mosquitos. I always react badly to bites so I was feeling a little poorly (Hello Helen! you taught me that word and it exactly describes how I was!) and bad-tempered and grumpy and not a happy blogger… sad face 😦 I’m all better now though!

(Place Royale in Nantes and possibly St. Nicholas church in background)

Then we went to Nantes, a lovely city with a great, easy-to-use tram system. The campsite was very well landscaped and the trees through the bedroom window were absolutely perfect. I used to lie down and look at them when the itching got too bad and they were very soothing. Even more soothing was the French anti-histamine.

(There’s a bunch of people kite surfing on the beach in front of our campsite. I just took this picture of one guy setting up. Once the kite is up he then has to walk all the way out to the water with his surfboard under his arm. Although it’s not clear from this picture the tide is out about 1km from the shore)

So, you’re all up to date, today we’re in a place called Asserac in Pays de la Loire. It’s north of Saint Nazaire and on the coast. In fact our campsite is right on the beach. And the weather isn’t too bad… 16ºC bright with the odd burst of sunshine. We thought the Nantes campsite had the best toilets of our trip (yes we’re back to toilets…) but this site in Asserac beats all the rest. Maybe I’ll get some pictures later…. what’s the French for “your toilets are very photogenic”? In case I don’t, think very nice hotel lobby and then add some toilets and some trees! And automatic sliding doors (not the toilet doors.) And self-flushing toilets! There’s even brightly coloured hand-washing sinks for children, in three different heights! Don’t get me started on the dish washing sinks… you know those professional hose things that people washing dishes in a restaurant kitchen use (you might have seen them on the telly?) well they’re here! And they have plugs for the sinks! I used to think a plug for the sink was no big deal… It is a big deal.

(Hello Laura! The beach here is beautiful and reminds me of your beach at Ballytrent!)

So that’s it, we’re on our way home from here. The big ship will be leaving Cherbourg on Wednesday evening and arriving in Rosslare on Thursday afternoon and we’ll be on it.

See you soon, Ireland! 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.

The Many Homes of Rain

September 17, 2015September 17, 2015 | Mairead

(When the rains came we took comfort in liquid brewed by ancient Belgian monks…)

Right so… it’s been a while… there was a storm, with rain and dark clouds, grey skies, the air got colder, it was a bit like winter… so we moved. That’s one of the great things about the camper van – if you don’t like where you are you can move somewhere else! Although sometimes the weather moves with you! Last time I wrote we were in Souillac which is on the Dordogne river. When the rain had fallen for three days in a row we decided to move. We moved west to Limeuil which is at the meeting of Dordogne and the Vézère rivers. It was a beautiful location and a very pretty site. We stayed two days, it rained for two days, we moved…

(Stony beach at campsite in Limeuil)

Yesterday we arrived in Montricoux, it’s further south in the Tarn and Garonne department (according to Wikipedia.) We drove about three hours (slowly on narrower roads than I’m happy to think about) to get here and along the way it was interesting to see the landscape change. Setting out we travelled along dark green tree and hedge lined winding roads – could have been in county Wicklow. Both of us clad in jeans and fleeces after an hour and a half we noticed a warmth and the fleeces were off. Half an hour further down the road the air-conditioning went on. That’s when we noticed the outside scenery had changed. It was flat, or at most gently rising and falling, roads went straight on for miles. Vegetation was sparse of light green or yellow colour. As there were no hedges to block the view we could see flat countryside for miles around. It seemed like this place didn’t get much rain. We were sure we had out-run the weather.

(A bird…)

We found a small campsite and parked in a grove of trees near reception, unpacked the chairs, the table, the clothes line. The washing that had been damp for three days was hung up and off we went for an ice pop. I started cutting and pasting. But by evening I was noticing a familiar scent in the air… rain? Couldn’t be, too warm but just in case I took the washing back in. I did leave my glued paper out… I think it was 3am when I woke to the familiar pitter patter, there was a thunderstorm outside. So, they do get rain here after all.

(I really liked those stones in Limeuil)

When real morning arrived (at 9am) it was dark inside the camper (did I mention I love the blackout blinds?) and I thought, we’ll have to move again… but no, outside it was blue skies and a few little white clouds. The washing is drying, the glue is setting, it’s too hot to go for a walk… maybe an ice pop?

Weather is everywhere… just not rain today. Mairead.

View from the Bed

September 5, 2015September 4, 2015 | Mairead

(Having a go at grape picking)

You know how when you’re buying a house you’re supposed to check out where the sun rises and sets in relation to your garden? Well, we only ever bought one house and we’ve lived in it for nearly 28 years and all those years ago we forgot to check the sun… On this trip, at each new campsite, we get an opportunity to check the sun and every time we forget. Turns out it doesn’t matter, it didn’t matter for our house and it doesn’t matter here, wherever we park Ruby we find something interesting, even if it’s not the position of the sun.

On our first morning in France we opened the blinds as we lay in bed and were greeted by huge old oak trees against a blue sky. Denis got up to collect breakfast but I couldn’t move, it was so beautiful. Ordinary, after all they’re just trees but beautiful nevertheless. Tonight we have a view of a lake and a hill beyond, we won’t be able to see it tomorrow morning from the bed unless we sit up, but I think that’ll be okay.

(The lake beside our campsite)

While I was unfolding the table earlier I spotted some interesting new arrivals setting up nearer the lake. (One of the surprise bonuses of a campsite is the never-ending opportunities to see other people organise themselves – it’s like looking over their garden wall.) The lady looked quite frail and the man was walking with the aid of two walking sticks. I could be way out but I’m guessing they are in their eighties. I realised I had seen them earlier when I was queuing at reception.

(I really, really like this idea)

The campsite owner saw that they needed to be near the toilet/shower blocks but he had no available pitch. He said, “No worries, I have an idea for tonight and I will find you the perfect pitch tomorrow!” He said this in English as the couple spoke English and then he put them in the playground! His thoughtfulness gave me a warm glow and meant I could almost forgive him the €1 a day charge for the (not very good) wi-fi – almost.

(Cute old-fashioned sign – I think it means no cars or motorbikes past this point)

Anyway, I now realise I have a view of the playground and the couple… and I am inspired. The man is setting up their connection to the electricity and the connections must not be working as he’s having to wander from one to the next, all the time moving with the aid of his walking frame. I am on the edge of my seat trying not to run down the 150 meters to his caravan to help when another camper arrives and finds a working connection. I am inspired by this couple because there are many times I am reminded that life is short, but this couple remind me that life can be short and yet be filled to the brim for every moment until the very last breath.

From my perch over the river in Limousin, Mairead.

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