1. Buen Camino. The tales of traveling the world and life
Translated by Jolanta Czaicka-Kotlarczyk
To set off. It is the most important decision. Just to put shoes on, take a backpack and close the door. And decide where to go. That’s enough. One doesn’t even need to know “how”. This will come later, on the way.
This journey is a kind of meditation one enters step by step, intently listening to one’s own breath, placing the backpack in the right position to make it possible to carry; with each step melting with the trail one travels, finally become a part of it. First, one walks thinking about what’s left behind at home, about problems to solve, things to take care of, and how overwhelming it is. These thoughts take the strength away. But one has to go and cannot stop. Cannot get discouraged, because later, gradually, these thoughts will fade, disappear and, finally, they will be gone. Compared with one’s new surroundings, these thoughts become just memories and they lose their meaning.
And then, when I let the past go, and I give myself permission not to think, just feel – the real journey starts. Listening to my own steps, singing birds, swoosh of the wind, sound of cicadas, feeling the heat of the day and the chill of water from a well, smelling the scent of warm earth and grass, and the taste of freshly baked bread eaten with melon. It is such a state of limbo: only me at the present moment. It is absolutely fascinating.
For many years, I have been traveling across the pilgrimage trails of Europe on my own. I fell in love with this idea when for the first time me and my family wandered from Leon in northern Spain, to Santiago di Compostella. Forgotten stone villages, the heat of meseta, the fragrance of heated up eucalyptus, gothic cathedrals, springs discovered at the crucial moments, and the taste of coffee and tortillas from local bars…these memories stayed with me for the next few years and gave me strength at the difficult moments of my life. And then the time came for me to wander on my own. First, I had to make decision if I was going alone. Then, I had to decide to leave, and to undertake the first trials. I had to ask myself the questions if I can do it or, if I have enough strength, if it is safe, and if it is at all possible. I want to tell you all about it. Of course, my story might not be especially innovative. You already know such tales, because there are already many women who have been traveling in even more exotic countries and under more extreme circumstances. But this story is just mine.
PS. I am going to include some pictures here, because these days everyone does so :) Please, don’t be angry with me if they are not the best quality. I simply don’t see very well anymore in the small camera viewfinder. Besides, when I am in love, I rather feel than see. And I am in love every time I start my journey. I am in love with life.
To set off. It is the most important decision. Just to put shoes on, take a backpack and close the door. And decide where to go. That’s enough. One doesn’t even need to know “how”. This will come later, on the way.
This journey is a kind of meditation one enters step by step, intently listening to one’s own breath, placing the backpack in the right position to make it possible to carry; with each step melting with the trail one travels, finally become a part of it. First, one walks thinking about what’s left behind at home, about problems to solve, things to take care of, and how overwhelming it is. These thoughts take the strength away. But one has to go and cannot stop. Cannot get discouraged, because later, gradually, these thoughts will fade, disappear and, finally, they will be gone. Compared with one’s new surroundings, these thoughts become just memories and they lose their meaning.
And then, when I let the past go, and I give myself permission not to think, just feel – the real journey starts. Listening to my own steps, singing birds, swoosh of the wind, sound of cicadas, feeling the heat of the day and the chill of water from a well, smelling the scent of warm earth and grass, and the taste of freshly baked bread eaten with melon. It is such a state of limbo: only me at the present moment. It is absolutely fascinating.
For many years, I have been traveling across the pilgrimage trails of Europe on my own. I fell in love with this idea when for the first time me and my family wandered from Leon in northern Spain, to Santiago di Compostella. Forgotten stone villages, the heat of meseta, the fragrance of heated up eucalyptus, gothic cathedrals, springs discovered at the crucial moments, and the taste of coffee and tortillas from local bars…these memories stayed with me for the next few years and gave me strength at the difficult moments of my life. And then the time came for me to wander on my own. First, I had to make decision if I was going alone. Then, I had to decide to leave, and to undertake the first trials. I had to ask myself the questions if I can do it or, if I have enough strength, if it is safe, and if it is at all possible. I want to tell you all about it. Of course, my story might not be especially innovative. You already know such tales, because there are already many women who have been traveling in even more exotic countries and under more extreme circumstances. But this story is just mine.
PS. I am going to include some pictures here, because these days everyone does so :) Please, don’t be angry with me if they are not the best quality. I simply don’t see very well anymore in the small camera viewfinder. Besides, when I am in love, I rather feel than see. And I am in love every time I start my journey. I am in love with life.
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