I’m in the middle of nowhere, seriously.
I just checked the population statistics for January 2018 and there were 52 people in this village. Evidently that was on a good day… so far I’ve seen five in the street, but not all at once.
I’m here to keep the plants alive and walk the dogs while the owners are away. I’ve learned to walk. Big time. It’s twenty minutes up a mountain to the next village (where I hear there are 25 inhabitants) and the capital of the region is an hour away on foot across a ravine.
Day 1: up the mountain to water someone else’s garden.
Day 2: up the mountain and across the ravine to meet a friend.
Day 3: up the mountain, across the ravine, stick out thumb, hitchhike to town, return by late afternoon with full backpack… collapse on couch.
You get the picture?
I’m loving it!
This was going to be a story about sandals, weaving in the importance of recycling and keeping stuff out of landfill but the dog got in the way. He’s not mine. I don’t like the idea of owning an animal but it seems that he likes the idea of owning me. His person is away and I’m doing the feeding and walking so I have become the love of his life.
This week we took to the mountains when the heat of the day had dropped a degree or two. ‘Climate change’, I told him. ‘Walk!’ he replied. So we did.
Yesterday I crossed the range, up, down and across the rocky terrain until I came to the village of Pitres. Lucky followed me, in spite of every trick I had to make him stay. He raced along the roman paths, played in the stream and chased lizards amongst the medicinal herbs and dried grasses of the Alpujarra. It was the perfect dog day until his luck ran out. I put out my thumb and when the first car stopped I left him there. (Remember, I had tried love, my best communication skills, then insults and even throwing stones to avoid this moment of abandonment.)
Today I returned, tired after hitch-hiking in forty degrees heat. ‘Climate change,’ I told the driver. ‘Si, cambio climatico,’ he agreed.
And there was Lucky. In the plaza… waiting.
This is not a definitive list. Some people are way more adventurous than I am. And as lists go, how to I order it?
At the moment my preferred method for getting around is on foot. Very old school and not going to be for the couch potatoes but fabulous for really seeing things in all their detail – a total winner for artists and poets. No cost except for wear and tear on footwear.
Hitchhiking is another favourite. Every lift is an adventure. Every person has a story to tell. No cost other than be a good listener.
The train is great for stretching out and sleeping when the fatigue of travel or socialising has caught up. It can be cheap. Check Evasio futé in the Occitanie region of France.
There are some great bus companies like ALSA, Flixbus and OUI. Often super cheap and sometimes the WIFI works but not always in the centre of town. A ticket from Madrid to Toulouse cost me less than 10 Euros.
There’s also Blablacar, my favourite for learning the local language and sometimes cheaper than the bus. It’s organised hitchhiking with a well organised and secure site. You can see where the driver is going, the time for the trip, their references and how much it costs in advance.
Finally, the bike is a sheer joy. Australia and New Zealand are currently the only countries where helmets are mandatory so I’m taking advantage of the wind in my hair and the freedom of coasting down a long and deserted hill.
The French know how to walk. Every Sunday, you can see clusters of friends or family making their way between villages after the Midday meal has settled. During the week there are clubs for the more dedicated. Large groups take to the paths that traverse the fields and the forest and work up an appetite for a three course meal with wine in the local hall or restaurant.
I’ve been lucky enough to join a few of these social events, to walk the beautiful countryside, to parley French with the locals and then raise too many glasses with the rest.