Postcard from a Wanderer No. 2
Do not be afraid
“What are you doing?” -“Waiting for a sign.” I sit at a bus stop in Oriniõn ready to give up when Sophie, another pilgrim is walking towards me. It’s 10.30 AM I have already walked for one and a half hours to only arrive in the same place again.
Oriniõn - my hell hole, I call it. A little village by the sea, encompassed by tall rocky hills, a cul-de-sac of a place. Last night I had been wandering the beach all by myself looking at the stars, I had marvelled at their beauty, now I feel lost, frustrated, trapped.
For 12th days I have been hiking now. Waking up early but not as early as some pilgrims who are gone every morning before I even open my eyes. Packing my little rucksack, deciding which of the two trousers I am going to wear, estimating the temperature, possible rain. Everything has become a ritual like filling up my two water bottles or finding a nice local bakery or cafe to make a proper lunch package for later.
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I’m lying naked on a …