Ola!
I hope this post finds you all well. I am writing this from the A/C comfort of an Internet cafe in Pamplona. That's right, Greg and I have walked from London to Spain. So now I go from speaking bad French to bad Spanish. To my utmost surprise I am still really enjoying the walking - I´d almost say I´m liking it more. Very strange. It seems we have walked over 1200 km to be here. As always, I am not short of random thoughts and I will now humbly lay them down before ye:
(I have updated the latest photos - these can be found in both the "Month 2" and "Camino Proper" sets. Unfortunately some of the earlier photos cannot be seen due to the limit on the free account).
- What did I make of France? Overall, I felt a bit like how I used to feel when a teenager and staying for a weekend at my granny's house. A pleasant enough experience with lots of politeness and respect but ultimately a bit dull. France just doesn´t seem to know how to have fun. Compared to the UK, pretty much every place I travelled through felt a bit quiet and under-populated and this was during their peek holiday season. Most bars and cafes would be lucky to have more than a dozen people in, and most of them would nurse a tiny glass of wine for the entire evening - that's IF they were feeling adventurous, otherwise it would most certainly be a soft-drink. Judging by the state of their economy, I would suspect that part of the reason for this phenomena is the low level of disposable income. The French, it appears, can´t afford to get their round in. I can´t remember seeing any significant evidence of 30 somethings having fun outside of their homes. Most venues seemed populated by young teenagers. I guess the 30+ are either in each others' homes or having clandestine meetings with one of their many lovers. Don´t get me wrong, France is a beautiful country with vast potential but it really does need Sarkozy to kick it´s socialist derriere into the 21st century.
French anecdotes continued...
- I still feel a little embarrassed when recalling that while in La Rochelle I mistook a piece of street "installation art" as a bin and duly placed my used kebab wrapper into the centre of the piece.
- In one of the campsites, Greg insisted on playing an arcade game called "Emergency Call Ambulance". Is it just me or is this a truly bizarre game concept? For a mere Euro you get to be the driver of an ambulance desperately trying to get various patients in a host of potentially life threatening states to hospital before both your time and their lives expire. Ostensibly a racing game, every time you hit the crash barrier or another vehicle you get to observe your patient going through a variety of life shortening seizures. If you crash badly enough or run out of time, so does your patient. Weird. Why does this game seem so wrong to me?
- Remarkably Greg and I have only have had one real disagreement. As you might expect, we have had lots of controversial conversations over the past three months. We have hotly debated topics including euthanasia, abortion, religion, politics, love, music, literature yet it wasn´t one of these debates that caused the final disagreement that resulted in us spending the day apart. The cause of our spat? The folding of a map. Or more accurately, the fact that I didn´t fold a map properly. Fortunately, our profound love and respect for one another, enabled us to heal the rift caused by this cartographic conflict.
- Greg and I walked past some French men having a bar-be-que about 3 metres away from where a petroleum lorry was pumping its cargo into a petrol storage facility. Despite our tired legs, we suddenly found the energy to significantly quicken our pace.
- While reading Aldous Huxley's "Island" (which is a truly badly written book but with some interesting ideas) I noticed two lines which I think are rather clever:
"We cannot reason ourselves out of our basic irrationality. All we can do is to learn the art of being irrational in a reasonable way." Indeed.
- On one particularly good day, Greg and I walked over 40 kilometres without really planning to. On kilometre 37 Greg turned to me and said, "Just think, if we were on a golf cart we could have covered what took us a complete day, in less than an hour." When all this is over, I´m gonna miss Greg´s motivational talks.
- Near Hasparren (in Basque part of France - hot-bed of Basque independence resistance) Greg and I spent two nights in a Benedictine Monastery with monks. We spent one day attending all 6 services (first one at 6.20am) and as most of the prayers were sung I rather enjoyed the experience. Not understanding French, I suspect, was an advantage. The monks make and drink their own wine. As Greg and I are abstaining from alcohol and caffeine (and nicotine for Greg) we refused. How often do I get to appear more well-living than a monk?! We also ate with the monks. They eat in silence while one of them recites parts of religious texts. My main observation was the incredible speed with which these guys eat. I kid you not, I reckon they eat 3 course in less than 7 minutes. The place definitely needs a woman´s calming touch I thought but fortunately I withheld such non-conformist thoughts.
- And now to Spain. To be honest it´s too early for many thoughts. I am however deeply concerned as to the haircuts most women seem to be sporting here. The mullet seems very much in. Oh dear.
- The "Camino Proper" starts from Saint-Jean-Pied-a-Port and finishes at Compestella. So for the past 4 days (and for the rest of our pilgrimage) we have joined the multitudes of pilgrims. Compared to the previous 1200 or so kms this final "leg" feels very simple and relatively easy. I never thought I´d regard walking almost 800km (remaining distance) as "easy".
- Last night we stayed in a horrible pension. The owner was a drunk and the rooms were claustrophobic and dirty. Greg was convinced the mirror in the bathroom was two-way and that there was a dead person in the room next to us. I don´t know if Greg´s suspicions were founded but am distressed that today I have started itching again. And so it seems I remain on the samsara circuit... .
Adios. x
Wednesday, 29 August 2007
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
A Lycra Lament
Bonsoir,
before I begin this post proper, I feel an overwhelming need to raise the issue of Speedos. Now as I'm sure those of you that have been to France are aware, French men seem to have a per chant for the wearing of tight-fitting Lycra swimwear. Fair enough, you might think. Why interfere in a man's need to wear spandex while strolling around the pool-side? Under normal circumstances, I too would be tolerant of such poor taste and vanity-gone-badly-wrong. But I'm afraid recently, I have moved from the camp of neutral observer to outright critic. The reason? In many pools, if you are male, you are not allowed to enter UNLESS you are wearing these fashion disasters. Personally, if I was a life-guard I would make the wearing of these Lycra garments (that leave very little to the imagination) a reason NOT to allow a man near a swimming pool. The world is indeed upside down.
O.K. got that off my chest. We are now in a small town called Parentis-en-Born. This means we have walked about 850 kms. Très bien, non? To increase the challenge further, starting Saturday 11th August Greg and I made the pact to complete the rest of the pilgrimage without consuming any alcohol or caffeine and Greg is also forgoing his nicotine hits. For those of you that know me well, I'm sure you will appreciate the scale of this personal challenge but we are both determined to prove we are masters of our vices (and not their slaves) and that we truly get the most out of this pilgrimage by living as well as possible.
After much deliberation, I have decided to ask for sponsorship for this pilgrimage. Some of you will know that I have been involved with an inspirational poetry group for several years now and it is this group I would like to raise some funds. The group is called "Mental Fight Club" - and their purpose is aptly summarised on their website:
"Mental Fight Club has around 500 members, around half of whom have direct experience of mental illness either as sufferers or carers. Our aim is to hold creative events which explore some aspect of mental illness or well-being through any human discipline – the arts, science, philosophy, sport, religion".
Check their website if you'd like to know more:
http://uk.geocities.com/gabrielejenkinson@btinternet.com/home.html
I am good friends with Sarah Wheeler, the founder and leader of Mental Fight Club and can only assure you that any money raised will be very well spent. Any money given will be very gratefully received but if you were to sponsor me 1p per kilometre that would be the princely sum of £20! The easiest way to get money to this organisation is to write a cheque made out to:
"Mental Fight Club"
c/o 21 Douglas Buildings,
Marshalsea Rd.,
London,
SE1 1EJ.
Enough of the appeal already.
And so to thoughts de la Seth in no particular order:
- Yesterday, I identified a sign on the map that we weren't able to find on the map's key and therefore decode. The road hugging the west coast, that we planned to travel down, had red lines through it for about 20 kilometres. Being generally the more cautious of the two, I suggested to Greg that perhaps these lines meant we couldn't use this road. Greg assured me that it would be fine and creatively suggested that perhaps the lines suggested that it was an access route for the fire service. Easily persuaded (especially when Greg's interpretation stood to save us lots of extra walking if correct) I agreed to "suck-it-and-see". It was only when we happened upon a more detailed map (courtesy of the tourist office) that we realised that our "short-cut" was actually a road straight through the French Land Armies HQ. Interestingly they also test missiles here. The detour around this site has put about 35km on our journey which is frustrating but infinitely better than being hounded by the French Foreign Legion.
- We often walk at night. It's very cool and eerily beautiful. However, sometimes we walk along paths where the tress are close enough for large spiders to make webs. Having my head enveloped in a large web with the possibility of its owner being on my body helps keep me awake.
- More recently, we have taken to camping "Au Sauvage" (in the wild). This is to save money (campsites can be ridiculously expensive) and gives us the freedom to tailor our routes to our own needs. Only once have we been woken by the gendame (police) and he was driving a quod bike and very happy so that's good.
- We stayed in a church garden for two nights. At night, one of the monks led a punk rock band in a gig in front of the church. He even did a Neal Young number. I am impressed by any man that can make the wearing of a brown robe and sandals look cool. A truly funky monk.
- We met a woman called Katrina. She was from Germany. She worked in a book shop. She wore glasses. These details are only incidental as to why I'm mentioning this encounter. Katrina had an experience, that before hearing of it, I was convinced only occurred in people's bad dreams. Katrina was a nudist (she was wearing clothes when I met her - I'm not not that sort of pilgrim don't you know!) One afternoon, Katrina left all her clothes and valuables on the sand and went for a long (naked) swim. When she returned to the place she thought she had left her possessions, she could find nothing but sand. Without her glasses, Katrina could barely see and so stumbled for nearly an hour along the tourist-packed beach looking for her belongings. All her lotion had been washed off so Katrina was also getting progressively burnt. Eventually, a kind sole took pity on her plight and helped her locate her possessions. I think Katrina should reconsider the merits of nudism in a largely clothes orientated society.
- Security guards in campsites often have batons, mace and attack dogs. What ever happened to the "happy camper" ideal such that camping patrons might cause difficulty requiring their temporary blinding and possible beating/dog savaging to be subdued?
- The other day, while talking to Greg I found myself saying, "I prefer purple madness to gentle sadness". Could this be the start of my song-writing career? Or was this just a flash-in-the-pan one hit wonder?
- I needed to see a doctor a few days ago to have my back looked at. Unfortunately my alarm failed but yet I still got up in time (unusual for me). How? Well as we were sleeping in the church garden I was initially awoken by the peel of bells. But then I fell back to sleep again. 30 minutes later I was woken again by the sound of singing as part of mass. Yet again I managed to fall back to sleep. Finally a group of enthusiastic students held a heated discussion (in French) about the bible right next to my tent. And I was well and truly awake for the day. Indeed, he works in mysterious ways.
Tonight we plan to "camp wild" with the added excitement of knowing that it will be within the vicinity of the military barracks. This is adrenaline Pilgrimaging at it's finest... x
(I haven't been able to upload the latest photos yet and will let you know when I have updated them.)
before I begin this post proper, I feel an overwhelming need to raise the issue of Speedos. Now as I'm sure those of you that have been to France are aware, French men seem to have a per chant for the wearing of tight-fitting Lycra swimwear. Fair enough, you might think. Why interfere in a man's need to wear spandex while strolling around the pool-side? Under normal circumstances, I too would be tolerant of such poor taste and vanity-gone-badly-wrong. But I'm afraid recently, I have moved from the camp of neutral observer to outright critic. The reason? In many pools, if you are male, you are not allowed to enter UNLESS you are wearing these fashion disasters. Personally, if I was a life-guard I would make the wearing of these Lycra garments (that leave very little to the imagination) a reason NOT to allow a man near a swimming pool. The world is indeed upside down.
O.K. got that off my chest. We are now in a small town called Parentis-en-Born. This means we have walked about 850 kms. Très bien, non? To increase the challenge further, starting Saturday 11th August Greg and I made the pact to complete the rest of the pilgrimage without consuming any alcohol or caffeine and Greg is also forgoing his nicotine hits. For those of you that know me well, I'm sure you will appreciate the scale of this personal challenge but we are both determined to prove we are masters of our vices (and not their slaves) and that we truly get the most out of this pilgrimage by living as well as possible.
After much deliberation, I have decided to ask for sponsorship for this pilgrimage. Some of you will know that I have been involved with an inspirational poetry group for several years now and it is this group I would like to raise some funds. The group is called "Mental Fight Club" - and their purpose is aptly summarised on their website:
"Mental Fight Club has around 500 members, around half of whom have direct experience of mental illness either as sufferers or carers. Our aim is to hold creative events which explore some aspect of mental illness or well-being through any human discipline – the arts, science, philosophy, sport, religion".
Check their website if you'd like to know more:
http://uk.geocities.com/gabrielejenkinson@btinternet.com/home.html
I am good friends with Sarah Wheeler, the founder and leader of Mental Fight Club and can only assure you that any money raised will be very well spent. Any money given will be very gratefully received but if you were to sponsor me 1p per kilometre that would be the princely sum of £20! The easiest way to get money to this organisation is to write a cheque made out to:
"Mental Fight Club"
c/o 21 Douglas Buildings,
Marshalsea Rd.,
London,
SE1 1EJ.
Enough of the appeal already.
And so to thoughts de la Seth in no particular order:
- Yesterday, I identified a sign on the map that we weren't able to find on the map's key and therefore decode. The road hugging the west coast, that we planned to travel down, had red lines through it for about 20 kilometres. Being generally the more cautious of the two, I suggested to Greg that perhaps these lines meant we couldn't use this road. Greg assured me that it would be fine and creatively suggested that perhaps the lines suggested that it was an access route for the fire service. Easily persuaded (especially when Greg's interpretation stood to save us lots of extra walking if correct) I agreed to "suck-it-and-see". It was only when we happened upon a more detailed map (courtesy of the tourist office) that we realised that our "short-cut" was actually a road straight through the French Land Armies HQ. Interestingly they also test missiles here. The detour around this site has put about 35km on our journey which is frustrating but infinitely better than being hounded by the French Foreign Legion.
- We often walk at night. It's very cool and eerily beautiful. However, sometimes we walk along paths where the tress are close enough for large spiders to make webs. Having my head enveloped in a large web with the possibility of its owner being on my body helps keep me awake.
- More recently, we have taken to camping "Au Sauvage" (in the wild). This is to save money (campsites can be ridiculously expensive) and gives us the freedom to tailor our routes to our own needs. Only once have we been woken by the gendame (police) and he was driving a quod bike and very happy so that's good.
- We stayed in a church garden for two nights. At night, one of the monks led a punk rock band in a gig in front of the church. He even did a Neal Young number. I am impressed by any man that can make the wearing of a brown robe and sandals look cool. A truly funky monk.
- We met a woman called Katrina. She was from Germany. She worked in a book shop. She wore glasses. These details are only incidental as to why I'm mentioning this encounter. Katrina had an experience, that before hearing of it, I was convinced only occurred in people's bad dreams. Katrina was a nudist (she was wearing clothes when I met her - I'm not not that sort of pilgrim don't you know!) One afternoon, Katrina left all her clothes and valuables on the sand and went for a long (naked) swim. When she returned to the place she thought she had left her possessions, she could find nothing but sand. Without her glasses, Katrina could barely see and so stumbled for nearly an hour along the tourist-packed beach looking for her belongings. All her lotion had been washed off so Katrina was also getting progressively burnt. Eventually, a kind sole took pity on her plight and helped her locate her possessions. I think Katrina should reconsider the merits of nudism in a largely clothes orientated society.
- Security guards in campsites often have batons, mace and attack dogs. What ever happened to the "happy camper" ideal such that camping patrons might cause difficulty requiring their temporary blinding and possible beating/dog savaging to be subdued?
- The other day, while talking to Greg I found myself saying, "I prefer purple madness to gentle sadness". Could this be the start of my song-writing career? Or was this just a flash-in-the-pan one hit wonder?
- I needed to see a doctor a few days ago to have my back looked at. Unfortunately my alarm failed but yet I still got up in time (unusual for me). How? Well as we were sleeping in the church garden I was initially awoken by the peel of bells. But then I fell back to sleep again. 30 minutes later I was woken again by the sound of singing as part of mass. Yet again I managed to fall back to sleep. Finally a group of enthusiastic students held a heated discussion (in French) about the bible right next to my tent. And I was well and truly awake for the day. Indeed, he works in mysterious ways.
Tonight we plan to "camp wild" with the added excitement of knowing that it will be within the vicinity of the military barracks. This is adrenaline Pilgrimaging at it's finest... x
(I haven't been able to upload the latest photos yet and will let you know when I have updated them.)
Friday, 27 July 2007
To Wick or Not to Wick..? (answers on a postcard..)
Well hello there strangers,
"where dost thou dwell Seth?", thoust hears thee ask. Are you ready for it... drum-roll please... La Rochelle, no less! Being here, means Greg and I have stumbled about 600 kms (more if you include walking on "days off"). Not bad, methinks, for two humble pilgrims. I am in a tip-top mood and very much look forward to seeing what "thoughts de la randome" (as I'm confident they say in France) I will now set before ye: (don't forget to check the latest snaps - there are some good ones)
- Several of you (I will not mention any names) have suggested via various form of communication that the French (and I quote) are "Cheese eating surrender monkeys". Now, as an enlightened man of wisdom and culture I would like to distance myself from this viewpoint. They also eat ham.
- While in Nantes I decided that this was where I was going to fall in love and write "that novel". While in La Rochelle I decided that I was a fantasist.
- Before I started this pilgrimage I believed that clean was an absolute concept. I now realise that it is most definitely a relative one.
- When eating in restaurants/tabacs it is common to re-use your knives and forks for each course. I think this is a fantastic system and I plan to lead the campaign in the UK for us to adopt the same practice.
- Clothes. It says something about the state of your wardrobe when your best "Friday night" outfit is actually the same trousers you have been wearing and sweating in all week and your top is thermal underwear. Greg assures me that I look French in my black thermal top and encourages me to work on my pout to really blend-in. I'm rubbish at looking moody/clever/aloof so I have to constantly lip the first part of the word "prune" to ensure I look suitably disinterested and therefore desirable.
- The art of being quieter. It is absolutely essential to speak quietly when in public in France if you want to be liked. Why don't they teach us this stuff in schools? Instead they fill our heads with useless skills such as solving quadratic equations while failing to tell us stuff that would really help one get-on in the world. Anyhow, having been in France a wee while it is immediately obvious to me what tourists are just here for a two week vacation (as opposed to those that understand French culture a little more) simply by the volume of their conversation, regardless of their ability to speak French. Foreigners in France my message to you is "sssshhh!"
- The French are quite a rule abiding, well behaved lot, especially when compared to the English. The children, in particular, respect their elders in ways that I have rarely witnessed in the UK. The more I think about it the less I would want to bring-up children in the UK. This makes me sad. Not least because I'd finally have to learn another language.
- Greg and I now average a comfortable 25 kms on a walking day. On several occasions we walk significantly more but then strange things happen to our bodies like my elbows falling-off.
- Just as sure as a French person will smoke, so too will they own a dog. I don't really like dogs (unless they are very well trained) so find getting barked at by dogs all day rather tiresome. I did see a dog that I really liked. It was an "attack dog" being rigorously drilled/trained by some professionals. They got a man to dress-up in special protective clothing (a seriously thick jumpsuit) and then got the dog to do all sorts of exercises. The relationship between the dog and the trainer and the discipline the dog had developed were truly impressive. On one exercise, the man in the suit came at the dog's "owner" with a stick yet despite the dogs obvious instinct, it was only at the blow of a whistle that the dog jumped into the air and bit the aggressors arm. They fought for about 30 seconds (the dog very much winning!) until in mid-fight the whistle blew again and the dog immediately let go of the man's arm and sat on the ground. Now I can't decide whether to buy one of those dogs or one of those suits.
- When a French person says "lets have a drink" they mean just that. One, small drink. Me no understand. Me no like.
- Greg and I went to a free outdoor concert. Two things stuck in my mind:
1) The poster promoting the band simply described them as "from Africa". Like specifying the actual county would be too much information? Can you imagine a French band being happy being promoted in Africa with a poster saying "from Europe"?
2) No-one, and I mean no-one, was drinking alcohol. Now I know that you don't always have to drink alcohol to enjoy yourself but come on this was an outdoor gig! That's just plain wrong.
- Young French men love driving around and around in circles on mopeds. To me, these mopeds are little more than upside down hair-dryers with ambition, yet the French girls seem to be very impressed. Is this why I was never described as "cool" as a younger man?
- I used to consider "wick" the thing you light on a candle, I now consider it a verb. This is because all my favourite items of clothing have "wicking action!" Even my pants. Believe you me, "to wick" is a beautiful thing. It keeps you cool and relatively smell free. Incidentally, my black thermal top has silver in it. Apparently this prevents the build-up of bacteria. How cool is it that my underwear has real silver in it?
- A week ago, I lost my passport, credit card and about £200. We had already walked 20 kms before I realised my loss and so popped into the tourist office in the next town, Lucon. The two women staffing the desk were incredibly kind and helpful and made numerous phone calls on my behalf to try and locate my possessions. They eventually reunited me with my valuables and so I have decided that I will definitely fall in love with a French person. Even if it doesn't work out, I can then use the inevitable sense of existential anxiety and pointlessness to fuel the writing of "that novel". Or I could write bad poetry. I reckon by then I should have perfected my moody pout so as long as I wear black and drink espresso's I should be a hit. Trouble is I'd also have to start smoking... . Anyhow, for those of you that would like any evidence that this pilgrimage has changed me here it is: I bought flowers for the two women that helped me. And I faced the embarrassment of giving them them in front of a room full of tourists. And so it is official, Seth does have a romantic side.
- I've stopped itching. And this confirms what I have always known to be true. If you have a significant problem or issue to deal with, just ignore it and do nothing until eventually it goes away... !
- I really, really, really miss you my friends and family. So please do come and join us for a stroll. Apart from anything else, Greg has heard all my jokes so now we just sit and walk in embarrassing silence. Please, for Greg's sake (there just aren't enough Guardian newspapers in the world for him to hide behind!), join us! If you want to be able to approximate where we will be at any one time I reckon we average 125 kms per week (assuming no serious injuries!) and are heading due South along France's West coast. Heading for Biarritz, and then the Pyrannes into Spain. We walk past many destinations served by Ryannair/Easyjet and trains/buses here are very cheap to get you to exactly where we are. We will of course walk at whatever pace is comfortable for you - any excuse to go easy is often a welcome one! Failing that, let me know what's going on in your life via e-mail. I know I'm rubbish at replying personally but I really do appreciate the news... .
Well I can't sit here all day typing, I've got bad French to speak... x
"where dost thou dwell Seth?", thoust hears thee ask. Are you ready for it... drum-roll please... La Rochelle, no less! Being here, means Greg and I have stumbled about 600 kms (more if you include walking on "days off"). Not bad, methinks, for two humble pilgrims. I am in a tip-top mood and very much look forward to seeing what "thoughts de la randome" (as I'm confident they say in France) I will now set before ye: (don't forget to check the latest snaps - there are some good ones)
- Several of you (I will not mention any names) have suggested via various form of communication that the French (and I quote) are "Cheese eating surrender monkeys". Now, as an enlightened man of wisdom and culture I would like to distance myself from this viewpoint. They also eat ham.
- While in Nantes I decided that this was where I was going to fall in love and write "that novel". While in La Rochelle I decided that I was a fantasist.
- Before I started this pilgrimage I believed that clean was an absolute concept. I now realise that it is most definitely a relative one.
- When eating in restaurants/tabacs it is common to re-use your knives and forks for each course. I think this is a fantastic system and I plan to lead the campaign in the UK for us to adopt the same practice.
- Clothes. It says something about the state of your wardrobe when your best "Friday night" outfit is actually the same trousers you have been wearing and sweating in all week and your top is thermal underwear. Greg assures me that I look French in my black thermal top and encourages me to work on my pout to really blend-in. I'm rubbish at looking moody/clever/aloof so I have to constantly lip the first part of the word "prune" to ensure I look suitably disinterested and therefore desirable.
- The art of being quieter. It is absolutely essential to speak quietly when in public in France if you want to be liked. Why don't they teach us this stuff in schools? Instead they fill our heads with useless skills such as solving quadratic equations while failing to tell us stuff that would really help one get-on in the world. Anyhow, having been in France a wee while it is immediately obvious to me what tourists are just here for a two week vacation (as opposed to those that understand French culture a little more) simply by the volume of their conversation, regardless of their ability to speak French. Foreigners in France my message to you is "sssshhh!"
- The French are quite a rule abiding, well behaved lot, especially when compared to the English. The children, in particular, respect their elders in ways that I have rarely witnessed in the UK. The more I think about it the less I would want to bring-up children in the UK. This makes me sad. Not least because I'd finally have to learn another language.
- Greg and I now average a comfortable 25 kms on a walking day. On several occasions we walk significantly more but then strange things happen to our bodies like my elbows falling-off.
- Just as sure as a French person will smoke, so too will they own a dog. I don't really like dogs (unless they are very well trained) so find getting barked at by dogs all day rather tiresome. I did see a dog that I really liked. It was an "attack dog" being rigorously drilled/trained by some professionals. They got a man to dress-up in special protective clothing (a seriously thick jumpsuit) and then got the dog to do all sorts of exercises. The relationship between the dog and the trainer and the discipline the dog had developed were truly impressive. On one exercise, the man in the suit came at the dog's "owner" with a stick yet despite the dogs obvious instinct, it was only at the blow of a whistle that the dog jumped into the air and bit the aggressors arm. They fought for about 30 seconds (the dog very much winning!) until in mid-fight the whistle blew again and the dog immediately let go of the man's arm and sat on the ground. Now I can't decide whether to buy one of those dogs or one of those suits.
- When a French person says "lets have a drink" they mean just that. One, small drink. Me no understand. Me no like.
- Greg and I went to a free outdoor concert. Two things stuck in my mind:
1) The poster promoting the band simply described them as "from Africa". Like specifying the actual county would be too much information? Can you imagine a French band being happy being promoted in Africa with a poster saying "from Europe"?
2) No-one, and I mean no-one, was drinking alcohol. Now I know that you don't always have to drink alcohol to enjoy yourself but come on this was an outdoor gig! That's just plain wrong.
- Young French men love driving around and around in circles on mopeds. To me, these mopeds are little more than upside down hair-dryers with ambition, yet the French girls seem to be very impressed. Is this why I was never described as "cool" as a younger man?
- I used to consider "wick" the thing you light on a candle, I now consider it a verb. This is because all my favourite items of clothing have "wicking action!" Even my pants. Believe you me, "to wick" is a beautiful thing. It keeps you cool and relatively smell free. Incidentally, my black thermal top has silver in it. Apparently this prevents the build-up of bacteria. How cool is it that my underwear has real silver in it?
- A week ago, I lost my passport, credit card and about £200. We had already walked 20 kms before I realised my loss and so popped into the tourist office in the next town, Lucon. The two women staffing the desk were incredibly kind and helpful and made numerous phone calls on my behalf to try and locate my possessions. They eventually reunited me with my valuables and so I have decided that I will definitely fall in love with a French person. Even if it doesn't work out, I can then use the inevitable sense of existential anxiety and pointlessness to fuel the writing of "that novel". Or I could write bad poetry. I reckon by then I should have perfected my moody pout so as long as I wear black and drink espresso's I should be a hit. Trouble is I'd also have to start smoking... . Anyhow, for those of you that would like any evidence that this pilgrimage has changed me here it is: I bought flowers for the two women that helped me. And I faced the embarrassment of giving them them in front of a room full of tourists. And so it is official, Seth does have a romantic side.
- I've stopped itching. And this confirms what I have always known to be true. If you have a significant problem or issue to deal with, just ignore it and do nothing until eventually it goes away... !
- I really, really, really miss you my friends and family. So please do come and join us for a stroll. Apart from anything else, Greg has heard all my jokes so now we just sit and walk in embarrassing silence. Please, for Greg's sake (there just aren't enough Guardian newspapers in the world for him to hide behind!), join us! If you want to be able to approximate where we will be at any one time I reckon we average 125 kms per week (assuming no serious injuries!) and are heading due South along France's West coast. Heading for Biarritz, and then the Pyrannes into Spain. We walk past many destinations served by Ryannair/Easyjet and trains/buses here are very cheap to get you to exactly where we are. We will of course walk at whatever pace is comfortable for you - any excuse to go easy is often a welcome one! Failing that, let me know what's going on in your life via e-mail. I know I'm rubbish at replying personally but I really do appreciate the news... .
Well I can't sit here all day typing, I've got bad French to speak... x
Thursday, 12 July 2007
On The Road (again)...
Hello,
well Greg's feet have finally recovered enough for us to get walking again and so it is once again time for us to hit the road. We both were truly surprised that a blister (albeit a massive one with apparent ambitions to take-over most of Greg's leg) could ground us for 17 days. We have had beaucoup des fun in Nantes but it is definitely time to be more like pilgrims and less like tourists. I have updated a few new photos though they really don't do Nantes justice - I just have a great resistance to confirming my out-of-town status by walking around everywhere taking photos shouting loudly "geez, ain't that cute. They just got so much history here..." in my bright orange, day-glow waterproof.
In truth, I don't feel overly inspired to write too much at the mo but for the sake of tradition I will jot-down a few random thoughts:
- I propose that the French are happier than the English. Difficult to prove but they just seem of a generally more sunny disposition. The women in particular often greet people with beautifully sincere smiles.
- The French seem to have a very different concept of time to the English. Quite simply, they don't act as if "time is money". This, as you might imagine, can be both a good and a bad thing, depending on what it is you seek. I have really noticed that once I have bought a coffee and sat for half-an-hour people-watching, I have an in-built sense that either I should buy something else or leave my chair to allow another paying customer to use it. This appears a totally alien concept in the French psyche. They appear to think nothing of purchasing a 1 euro drink and then sitting with their friends, chatting lazily for the entire afternoon. I like this. I suspect my mind-set has been conditioned by the pervasiveness of capitalist culture in the UK where all transactions (social as much as commerce) are based on someone, somewhere making money. On the less positive side, the French could do with improving their customer service ethos. Being in some french establishments (Tabac's, Pensions, Restaurants) you can almost read the proprietor's thoughts "If only it weren't for those demanding customers, I would have a great business".
- The French favour the taking of medication as suppositories. Mmm.
- I saw a very elegantly dressed woman carrying a tiny dog in a very expensive looking hand-bag. I am not known for my strong beliefs on animal welfare but I do not think dogs should be forced to suffer the indignity of living in a woman's handbag. Even if she is rich. Or sophisticated. I suspect that poor dog's mates laugh at him. A lot.
- I think it should be made illegal to have Irish bars in any place but Ireland. Otherwise, people like me that should know better, end-up in them. Drinking Guinness and talking with ex-pats while in France, is not how I want my life to be. It makes me sad.
- I'm still itching.
Well, I've got a rucksack to put-on...
well Greg's feet have finally recovered enough for us to get walking again and so it is once again time for us to hit the road. We both were truly surprised that a blister (albeit a massive one with apparent ambitions to take-over most of Greg's leg) could ground us for 17 days. We have had beaucoup des fun in Nantes but it is definitely time to be more like pilgrims and less like tourists. I have updated a few new photos though they really don't do Nantes justice - I just have a great resistance to confirming my out-of-town status by walking around everywhere taking photos shouting loudly "geez, ain't that cute. They just got so much history here..." in my bright orange, day-glow waterproof.
In truth, I don't feel overly inspired to write too much at the mo but for the sake of tradition I will jot-down a few random thoughts:
- I propose that the French are happier than the English. Difficult to prove but they just seem of a generally more sunny disposition. The women in particular often greet people with beautifully sincere smiles.
- The French seem to have a very different concept of time to the English. Quite simply, they don't act as if "time is money". This, as you might imagine, can be both a good and a bad thing, depending on what it is you seek. I have really noticed that once I have bought a coffee and sat for half-an-hour people-watching, I have an in-built sense that either I should buy something else or leave my chair to allow another paying customer to use it. This appears a totally alien concept in the French psyche. They appear to think nothing of purchasing a 1 euro drink and then sitting with their friends, chatting lazily for the entire afternoon. I like this. I suspect my mind-set has been conditioned by the pervasiveness of capitalist culture in the UK where all transactions (social as much as commerce) are based on someone, somewhere making money. On the less positive side, the French could do with improving their customer service ethos. Being in some french establishments (Tabac's, Pensions, Restaurants) you can almost read the proprietor's thoughts "If only it weren't for those demanding customers, I would have a great business".
- The French favour the taking of medication as suppositories. Mmm.
- I saw a very elegantly dressed woman carrying a tiny dog in a very expensive looking hand-bag. I am not known for my strong beliefs on animal welfare but I do not think dogs should be forced to suffer the indignity of living in a woman's handbag. Even if she is rich. Or sophisticated. I suspect that poor dog's mates laugh at him. A lot.
- I think it should be made illegal to have Irish bars in any place but Ireland. Otherwise, people like me that should know better, end-up in them. Drinking Guinness and talking with ex-pats while in France, is not how I want my life to be. It makes me sad.
- I'm still itching.
Well, I've got a rucksack to put-on...
Monday, 2 July 2007
Nous sommes fermè...
Hello,
apologies for being a bit slack on updating this. Greg and I have now been in Nantes for a week and while this is a beautiful city we would both much rather be on the road. Greg's feet really were in a bad way on arrival and required minor surgery, anti-biotics and daily attention from a nurse for two weeks. Thus it is likely we still have another week to pass here. I guess this gives us both the opportunity to practice patience! (We have added a few new photos so do have a look. For anyone interested (and I know this is likely to just be boys!) I'm not using my usual Nikon D70 as it was too heavy to bring. Thus, I'm snapping with the tiny Canon IXUS 70. This partly explains my lower than usual standard of photos!)
And so to my random thoughts:
- while I respect the French insistence that there is more to life than just earning money, at times it seems like this is a useful philosophy for being lazy. Let's get controversial. There have been so many occasions when we have wanted to spend money in this country only to be told to go away due to it being the wrong day, time or freek'n lunar cycle! Come on France. Wake up. You have a situation whereby approximately 25% of 16 - 25 year olds are unable to find employment yet a mentality that the needs of the proprietor are more important than that of the customer. I once heard a french economist speaking on BBC world service say "France deserves it's unemployment". And I think he was right. Sure the British/US model has its problems but quite frankly these economies are kicking France's derriere. (Apologies in advance for my poor spelling of French words - I generally am guessing how they might be spelt).
An example. We arrived in a relatively large town at 5pm on a Sunday. We had walked over 25 ms in the rain, were soaked and desperately in need of some shelter. We were told by a hotel and a pension that they were full. Despondent but accepting of our fate, we took shelter in a local tabac. A friendly local took interest in our plight and insisted that he phone the local hotel that had refused us just minutes before. And sure enough, miraculously there now was room. Now partly, we guessed we had been refused because we were English (and despite all the nice things I have to say about the French, they sometimes don't seem to like us very much!) But I suspect the main reason was that they couldn't be bothered to fill in their bureaucratic forms to allow us shelter. Does France not realise the importance of Tourism for economic growth? If it does, where do the French think Tourists go on Sundays, or between 12 - 3pm EVERYDAY!? Fair enough, I'm not asking every French person to welcome foreigners with open arms or to change their cultural habits to suit tourists, but if you are running a hotel it would seem that dealing with tourists, a likely occupational hazard. Incidentally, we wanted to return to the bar where we first met our friendly local but couldn't as it was shut! The reason? It was a Monday. Of course.
The French seem to talk with naive passion about values of socialism and tradition yet not see the connection with its economic woes. Ideas are important, but they won't feed your children. America (and to a lesser extent England) are almost demonised here as representing greed and disregard for the value of life. Yet the French seem to forget they, like England, have a colonial past - it was just that England was better at being exploitative than them. Racism is extreme here and "immigrant" a dirty word. France romanticizes its "localism" yet conveniently fails to see that it has massive global connections, not least in the global energy sector and arms manufacturing. A country in denial. A teenager railing against systems they fail to understand. France is rapidly becoming England's poor cousin. And no doubt they will find a way to blame their situation on Imperialist/US foreign policy or some such philosophical nonsense.
- I like croissants. But I wish it was easier to get hold of more cheese and ham filled ones.
- Everyone here smokes. I mean EVERYONE. I do NOT like this.
- Coffee is generally served here with cold UHT. I find this truly perplexing in a country with such high-culinary standards. (Bring-on Starbucks!)
- In smaller towns/villages it is common for a person entering a tabac to greet everyone individually and systematically and shake their hands. A beautiful thing.
- Most lights automatically switch-off when not in use. A simple yet clever way to save energy that the UK would do well to adopt. Some lights are "motion sensitive". I like this but not so much when I'm using the toilet and it fails to notice "motion".
- Drink-driving appears sociably acceptable. This, I would suggest, is a bad thing.
- I learnt a new word. Defenestrate. Apparently, this means "to throw out a window". For some reason, that such a word exists amuses me.
- I think I have body lice. But I can't be certain. I got badly bitten by something a week ago and remain constantly itchy. I just haven't got the courage to admit to a french Doctor that I have body lice. I don't want to reinforce their stereotypical views of the English.
- I think exercise is good for my mood. Maybe if I was walking I wouldn't feel the need to criticize other people so much. But I like ranting. It feels familiar. Like an old jacket that you really should throw out (it is worn out and ceases to make one look attractive) but insist on wearing. Maybe this is why I don't have a girlfriend...
Until next time...
apologies for being a bit slack on updating this. Greg and I have now been in Nantes for a week and while this is a beautiful city we would both much rather be on the road. Greg's feet really were in a bad way on arrival and required minor surgery, anti-biotics and daily attention from a nurse for two weeks. Thus it is likely we still have another week to pass here. I guess this gives us both the opportunity to practice patience! (We have added a few new photos so do have a look. For anyone interested (and I know this is likely to just be boys!) I'm not using my usual Nikon D70 as it was too heavy to bring. Thus, I'm snapping with the tiny Canon IXUS 70. This partly explains my lower than usual standard of photos!)
And so to my random thoughts:
- while I respect the French insistence that there is more to life than just earning money, at times it seems like this is a useful philosophy for being lazy. Let's get controversial. There have been so many occasions when we have wanted to spend money in this country only to be told to go away due to it being the wrong day, time or freek'n lunar cycle! Come on France. Wake up. You have a situation whereby approximately 25% of 16 - 25 year olds are unable to find employment yet a mentality that the needs of the proprietor are more important than that of the customer. I once heard a french economist speaking on BBC world service say "France deserves it's unemployment". And I think he was right. Sure the British/US model has its problems but quite frankly these economies are kicking France's derriere. (Apologies in advance for my poor spelling of French words - I generally am guessing how they might be spelt).
An example. We arrived in a relatively large town at 5pm on a Sunday. We had walked over 25 ms in the rain, were soaked and desperately in need of some shelter. We were told by a hotel and a pension that they were full. Despondent but accepting of our fate, we took shelter in a local tabac. A friendly local took interest in our plight and insisted that he phone the local hotel that had refused us just minutes before. And sure enough, miraculously there now was room. Now partly, we guessed we had been refused because we were English (and despite all the nice things I have to say about the French, they sometimes don't seem to like us very much!) But I suspect the main reason was that they couldn't be bothered to fill in their bureaucratic forms to allow us shelter. Does France not realise the importance of Tourism for economic growth? If it does, where do the French think Tourists go on Sundays, or between 12 - 3pm EVERYDAY!? Fair enough, I'm not asking every French person to welcome foreigners with open arms or to change their cultural habits to suit tourists, but if you are running a hotel it would seem that dealing with tourists, a likely occupational hazard. Incidentally, we wanted to return to the bar where we first met our friendly local but couldn't as it was shut! The reason? It was a Monday. Of course.
The French seem to talk with naive passion about values of socialism and tradition yet not see the connection with its economic woes. Ideas are important, but they won't feed your children. America (and to a lesser extent England) are almost demonised here as representing greed and disregard for the value of life. Yet the French seem to forget they, like England, have a colonial past - it was just that England was better at being exploitative than them. Racism is extreme here and "immigrant" a dirty word. France romanticizes its "localism" yet conveniently fails to see that it has massive global connections, not least in the global energy sector and arms manufacturing. A country in denial. A teenager railing against systems they fail to understand. France is rapidly becoming England's poor cousin. And no doubt they will find a way to blame their situation on Imperialist/US foreign policy or some such philosophical nonsense.
- I like croissants. But I wish it was easier to get hold of more cheese and ham filled ones.
- Everyone here smokes. I mean EVERYONE. I do NOT like this.
- Coffee is generally served here with cold UHT. I find this truly perplexing in a country with such high-culinary standards. (Bring-on Starbucks!)
- In smaller towns/villages it is common for a person entering a tabac to greet everyone individually and systematically and shake their hands. A beautiful thing.
- Most lights automatically switch-off when not in use. A simple yet clever way to save energy that the UK would do well to adopt. Some lights are "motion sensitive". I like this but not so much when I'm using the toilet and it fails to notice "motion".
- Drink-driving appears sociably acceptable. This, I would suggest, is a bad thing.
- I learnt a new word. Defenestrate. Apparently, this means "to throw out a window". For some reason, that such a word exists amuses me.
- I think I have body lice. But I can't be certain. I got badly bitten by something a week ago and remain constantly itchy. I just haven't got the courage to admit to a french Doctor that I have body lice. I don't want to reinforce their stereotypical views of the English.
- I think exercise is good for my mood. Maybe if I was walking I wouldn't feel the need to criticize other people so much. But I like ranting. It feels familiar. Like an old jacket that you really should throw out (it is worn out and ceases to make one look attractive) but insist on wearing. Maybe this is why I don't have a girlfriend...
Until next time...
Tuesday, 26 June 2007
Declining standards in UK academic institutions reach a new low
Salut,
this is going to be a very short post for reasons that will soon be made clear. Greg and I are now in Nantes, having walked over 350 kilometres. We have faced yet more rain and Greg's feet and leg is in a very bad way (looks like that medical insurance will prove useful!) yet we both remain resilient and happy.
Anyhow, today Greg and I received our final university results and we both now hold 1st class degrees in International Development with Non-governmental Organisational Management. And so it would appear that the headlines really are true, UK educational standards clearly are at an all time low.
Now, we're in the land of champagne and we have reason to celebrate, so I hope you will excuse us for a few days... .
x
this is going to be a very short post for reasons that will soon be made clear. Greg and I are now in Nantes, having walked over 350 kilometres. We have faced yet more rain and Greg's feet and leg is in a very bad way (looks like that medical insurance will prove useful!) yet we both remain resilient and happy.
Anyhow, today Greg and I received our final university results and we both now hold 1st class degrees in International Development with Non-governmental Organisational Management. And so it would appear that the headlines really are true, UK educational standards clearly are at an all time low.
Now, we're in the land of champagne and we have reason to celebrate, so I hope you will excuse us for a few days... .
x
Monday, 18 June 2007
Though the rain did smite them, sunny remained their disposition...
Bonjour Mon Amies,
well it's day 18, we have lugged our saggy bodies over 200 kms, it has rained for the past five days and Greg and I are still talking to one another, so I guess all is well. If the week has had a theme, it would be rain, blisters and the kindness of strangers. We have uploaded our latest pics so do have a gander. And so to the high/low lights:
- It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to justify my prejudices against the French. Although on some key areas I remain smugly assured that the British way is superior than that of the French, I have to concede that the French could teach us a thing or seven about a "quality" rather than "quantity" approach to life. Let me elaborate. The French drink, but emphasis is on the quality of the beverage rather the desire merely to get inebriated as fast as possible. They also know when to stop; a skill I could do with homing. The food? Quite simply it would seem they do indeed have the best cuisine in the world. They take genuine pride in buying locally and in supporting farmers and working the land is a respected occupation. Being here has helped me understand a little better why the French people (not so the new government) are so resistant to adopting a fully liberal, market-based economy. They value their (long!) lunch breaks and Sunday as a day of rest. It seems they view Margaret Thatcher as a symbol of the destruction of society merely for the pursuit of material gain. To be fair, France's economy is in fairly bad shape (especially compared to Britain's) and looks likely to follow the British/US model from a necessity to reduce unemployment and it's massive domestic debt, yet this is a country where young people (for the most part) genuinely respect adults and where strangers acknowledge and help one another. If the cost of economic growth is the loss of society, is this a price worth paying?
- I don't like rain. It makes me wet. It makes my tent wet. It makes all my possessions wet. At times, this makes me sad. In an attempt to stay dry I am forced to wear a brightly coloured "high-vis" waterproof and an equally garish cover for my rucksack (see photos!). Looking like a wet, luminous orange blob and not speaking French very well, does not help me blend-in with the locals. This also makes me sad.
- For the first time in my life I am able to look at a map and compass and understand the information they reveal. This makes me happy. It also helps us avoid walking around in circles.
- I like French women. They are generally beautiful and are inexplicably good at just being women. I even like the way they laugh at me when I am dressed as an orange blob.
- I've spotted a gap in the market here. Fresh milk. You can't get it here. Porquoi?
- Greg is better at skimming stones than me but I am far superior at hitting targets.
Au Revoir.
well it's day 18, we have lugged our saggy bodies over 200 kms, it has rained for the past five days and Greg and I are still talking to one another, so I guess all is well. If the week has had a theme, it would be rain, blisters and the kindness of strangers. We have uploaded our latest pics so do have a gander. And so to the high/low lights:
- It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to justify my prejudices against the French. Although on some key areas I remain smugly assured that the British way is superior than that of the French, I have to concede that the French could teach us a thing or seven about a "quality" rather than "quantity" approach to life. Let me elaborate. The French drink, but emphasis is on the quality of the beverage rather the desire merely to get inebriated as fast as possible. They also know when to stop; a skill I could do with homing. The food? Quite simply it would seem they do indeed have the best cuisine in the world. They take genuine pride in buying locally and in supporting farmers and working the land is a respected occupation. Being here has helped me understand a little better why the French people (not so the new government) are so resistant to adopting a fully liberal, market-based economy. They value their (long!) lunch breaks and Sunday as a day of rest. It seems they view Margaret Thatcher as a symbol of the destruction of society merely for the pursuit of material gain. To be fair, France's economy is in fairly bad shape (especially compared to Britain's) and looks likely to follow the British/US model from a necessity to reduce unemployment and it's massive domestic debt, yet this is a country where young people (for the most part) genuinely respect adults and where strangers acknowledge and help one another. If the cost of economic growth is the loss of society, is this a price worth paying?
- I don't like rain. It makes me wet. It makes my tent wet. It makes all my possessions wet. At times, this makes me sad. In an attempt to stay dry I am forced to wear a brightly coloured "high-vis" waterproof and an equally garish cover for my rucksack (see photos!). Looking like a wet, luminous orange blob and not speaking French very well, does not help me blend-in with the locals. This also makes me sad.
- For the first time in my life I am able to look at a map and compass and understand the information they reveal. This makes me happy. It also helps us avoid walking around in circles.
- I like French women. They are generally beautiful and are inexplicably good at just being women. I even like the way they laugh at me when I am dressed as an orange blob.
- I've spotted a gap in the market here. Fresh milk. You can't get it here. Porquoi?
- Greg is better at skimming stones than me but I am far superior at hitting targets.
Au Revoir.
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