Personal Reflections

Making Choices

~ Kate Wilson ~ 3 Comments

Current dilemma *1
Take all three dogs to Chapel Carn Brea and have to curtail the walk because Blue quickly gets tired and wobbly  OR do a short one down the lane then leave her looking confused and hurt in the kitchen while the other two bounce around in excitement about a new excursion?

Current dilemma *2
I want somewhere here to stay when I come back on visits and the main house is rented out. So, do we do up the workshop and add drainage?  Or improve the stable block and add electricity?  Or get a run down caravan and plonk it down in the field where there are wonderful views over to the hills?

Current dilemma *3
Do I keep this table/chair/bed/picture/cup/skirt/teddy bear/CD etc etc OR get rid of it?

Help!
(All good and happy dilemmas though and the dogs are still getting on well except for occasional normal but noisy scuffles)

Remembering the journey across Europe

~ Kate Wilson ~ 3 Comments

Now I’ve had time to recover from the journey and can think about it from the peace and tranquility of Lamorna.  What memories stand out the most?

The actual reality of the trip was very different from both the anticipated and the remembered journeys.
I looked forward to it with great excitement.  I now look back on it with fond smiles. But the reality was a really mixed bag of delight, despair, pleasure and discomfort, wonder and worry.
We drove from Granollers to Tuscany and then from Tuscany to Calais via Switzerland and France.
One car, two people and a Springer Spaniel.
We tried to travel too far every day and we wanted to avoid the paying motorways. This meant that although we enjoyed some beautiful meandering roads through lovely places, we  also had no time to stand and stare. We spent far too many hours cramped in together in the car. leading to  some inevitable cabin fever!
250km per day is fine – 450km is too much.
  • Duna is a natural traveller and curled up at the passengers feet with hardly a moment of restlessness.
  • Camping is wonderful and even the most basic places give you the joy of waking to the sound of birds and the smell of grass.
  • Hard ground, sleeping on a slope which rolls you downhill, neighbours who noisily leave at 6am, changing campsite (and sometimes country) every day, drunk Italians who piss over a wall only feet from your pillow(see below), thunderstorms which create a pool outside your door……. all just add to the experience.  Yet,  a hook on the door of the campsite loos can make you almost cry with relief.
  • The best toilets were in a Swiss site, the worst in Italy

If you are trying to find the nearest baker it’s best not to ask with a dog bowl in your hand.   The well dressed Italian lady shuddered and mumbled “No grazie”.  It took me a moment to realised she thought I was begging.

Mid August is not the best time to cross the Alps going north. We spent three hours in a traffic jam getting more and more nervous about the Gotthard Tunnel which is 17km long.

It reminded me of trying to drive into Cornwall on a Saturday in August.

Our other major traffic jam was crossing the border from France into Italy – we had forgotten it was market day in Ventimiglia.
After August 14th, that magical date when French and Italian people go back to work,  all the campsites emptied out and in Chalons -Sur-Marne we shared a site with a few people from the UK.   The van opposite had a Cornish sticker and it turned out the people were from Penzance.    This came in useful later the next day when we were driving north and realised Duna’s lead was still hanging on the bush.  We rang the site and asked the owner to pass it on the couple whose names we didn’t know but who had told us they drink coffee every Saturday in Renaissance Cafe.

And finally,for now,  I learnt that although my friend Tiffany  said GPS can save relationships, it can also send them into meltdown.
In 100  metres Turn Right, TURN RIGHT   (OK OK  I am)  …..Recalculating, recalculating !!!!!

Next posts – The Etruscans, Duna goes to London, and anything else I remember from the trip!

The Wisdom of Dogs

~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments

We have arrived in Lamorna.  After a journey of about 3500 km from Catalunya to Cornwall via France, Italy, Switzerland and London, we rolled in at lunch time and within 15 minutes the dogs were playing together in the field.
After all the worrying it was fine. All three dogs are getting along fine.

Of course there were moments of growling and irritation…..but as for the dogs – they are getting on fine!

And now that I have more time and some reliable internet I will write a little more about the journey – but that will be tomorrow. Now it’s time for a cup of tea and a familiar bed.

Granollers today

~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments

Every day there is high humidity and often………a downpour.
Today the rain turned to hailstones and the rain was so fierce it came in through various holes in the roof! And through the door to the terrace which I had left open! There were little pebbles of ice on the carpet.
Is this summer?  I often have to remind myself which month we are in – can it really be July, the time when normally I am seeking out shade and rejecting most of my clothes as they are too hot for comfort. This evening I was thinking I needed a jacket for sitting in the Jijonera to drink an orxata.

I am feeling better after yesterdays outpouring.
Women Who Walk with Wolves also reminded me that for creative energy to mature and grow there must be times when we take on the inner assassin and face those dark questions about who we are and what we are doing.

(I notice here that the book is actually called Women Who RUN with Wolves. How typical of me that I slowed it down a pace!)
The assassin, the predator within us, is that voice which tells us we are no good and periodically it tries to knock us down and destroy what we are making. Then is the time to gather strength, take a breath and fight back.

Today in Granollers I went shopping.  Against a terrible fatigue of body and spirit I walked down to the centre of town and tried on shoes. It is the time of the July sales – called Rebaixes in Catalan. Pronounced  ‘rebashes’
I don’t know what this sign means – how can a sale be %?

While in one shop looking at bags I heard a big kerfuffle in the shop next door – Pull and Bear. A large group of people gathered to enjoy the show. Everyone started to talk and shout and smile – it was like we were waking up from our shopping dream.

After a lot of noise and yelling,  two women came out with pushchairs, arguing with the security guard and eventually walked away up the road. Then someone saw the Mossos (police) arriving from the other end of town. A shout went up – Here, Here, Quickly, Quickly!
The crowd, which now was acting as one, pointed in the direction of the women and the police ran past – three, four, five of them. Later I saw the security guard return with some tee shirts in his hand and also the girls talking with the police in a discreet alleyway.  What was incredible was the crowd energy for the chase – wow, I wouldn’t like to have those people after me. A few moments before they had been barely alive.

Well, that’s enough excitement for today!  A storm and a robbery and two new pairs of shoes.
No bag –  though – look at the price!

Sometimes I feel uncomfortable here

~ Kate Wilson ~ 6 Comments

Sometimes I don’t know what to write here. After all it’s not a diary and shouldn’t I be entertaining you?  But if my mood is ‘interesting’  or complicated then I have trouble knowing what to say or how to say it.

If you would like to see something funny that caught my eye tonight then here is a photo of a shrine by the side of the road. I don’t know what came first – the statue or the brickwork.

Here it is….

And if you are here because you like to know what is going on for me then this part is for you. If you prefer to read interesting cultural things then this bit might not be your cup of earl grey tea!

I am feeling uncomfortable in my skin

I don’t like the unsettling cloudy humid weather which spoils our plans to go to the beach or watch Life of Brian in the open air cinema.

I keep crying over little things.

I feel a failure at everything I try to do – I can’t drive like Catalan people, I don’t know how to use the Samsung phone, cooking is difficult, we are getting nowhere with finding a new home with a garden.  The resident adolescent still ignores me.  I can’t speak Catalan, understand Catalan, remember any words in Spanish, wear the right clothes,  look presentable in a photograph, etc etc

I went to a family meal and spent three hours at the dinner table in almost total silence. Half way through I lost my ability to smile and nod. Not much later I lost the will to live as my spirit left my body and floated somewhere up on the ceiling watching my abandoned body continue in some reflex way to lift the glass of cava to my mouth and drink…..too much.

Memories of the school playground

Remember at school those skipping games where you have to run in while the rope is turning, jump a couple of times and then exit without breaking the rhythm?   There were always scary girls who confidently popped in and out without any trouble.   I was not one of them.  I would stand at the entrance for ages, bobbing my head forward and back as I tried to find the right moment to make the move. Then I would chose the wrong moment and catch the rope on my ankles or around my neck.
This is how I feel when faced with groups of people speaking in Catalan in a social setting. The words are fast and constant. You need confidence to get in there.  And if you jump in at the wrong moment, the conversation stops, everyone looks at you as if you are stupid, and you just want to run away and hide.
And if you don’t try to jump in they look at you anyway,  asking ‘what’s wrong with you?’

I am too slow for so many things.

Driving for example. I love driving and taking to the road but I hate having to speed along because that is the ‘right’ way.  The ‘Catalan’ way.   I don’t like overtaking when there is a lot of traffic – somehow the same bobbing head syndrome kicks in and I have to take deep breaths before claiming my space in the fast lane.

My brain feels tired. I feel dizzy and muzzy.  I wake too early and go to bed too late.

I want to go HOME – but I don’t know where home is.

Many people have said to me that they couldn’t do what I am doing.

They couldn’t come and live somewhere different, learn two languages, have a new family and an adolescent step child in a different culture and begin all over again with work and friends and everything. Honestly in many ways it hasn’t been too difficult but….right now…..I’m not sure I can do it either.

I want to – but I am tired of feeling that I am always failing.

Is it because I am not good enough?  Perhaps the task is just too hard!

The swift that I tried to rescue wanted to fly.   Again and again she stretched her wings and launched off   into the unknown only to crash down head first onto the ground.  It was hard to watch but I loved her desire to survive.  Eventually she got tired and had to rest. In the end she accepted this, and let go to death.

She tried and failed and it wasn’t her fault – it was just too hard.   I feel very poised on this edge, facing this question, and although there are helpful hands around me, it is a lonely moment…..can I fly?

Now, for anyone who is still tuned in,  here is a lovely little car I saw on Carrer Corro last night. This is my kind of car, ideal for pootling along enjoying the journey without having to feel bad about not going faster or being bigger or more stylish or a different shape or colour

And especially for Oreneta, Bodhi, Christine, Pearl, Pepsi and all those who leave me messages,

this is for you