Up and into the historic walled city of Girona before anything opened. Warm wind and history. A vast cathedral and medieval streets, ancient and gorgeous and beautiful in a light that still wanted to persuade us it was summer. But we had to go north. North. Ever North.

It was hard to pull ourselves away though. A powerful place, Girona. Unexpected. Still. A few hours later I swung the car off the autoroute in Jonquiérs and went in quest of a vineyard that sells direct to the customer. I found one. Now the car is full of wine, and there isn’t quite enough money in my account. I got some bottles for now, and some for later. I didn’t want to be passing through the South of France with a car without loading up. I grabbed a few in Majorca too so once I get back from Uruguay I’ll definitely have plenty of wine waiting to try, and then in about ten years I’ll have some more.

Back on the road and now we are heading to the Auvergne. Bright sunlight through the windows betraying the fact that, every inevitable mile, by inches, by degrees, the temperature was dropping, dropping, dropping. We didn’t know it until we opened the car door in Le Claux and were hit in the face by cold.

Late afternoon, early evening, and we are in a wooden chalet in a field, visiting a yogi friend that Lou met in Rishikesh. Long bright sparky conversation with a wood burning stove blazing away. I’ve learnt some new terms. I know how it can get when Lou hangs out with someone who knows yoga. I keep mostly quiet and eat my steamed vegetables. It’s warm. It’s pleasant. It’s homely. I have nettle tea and vegan cheese. The subject of Uruguay comes up and Lou’s friend, who appears to know everywhere, has lived there, in the town where I’ll be working. He goes into great detail about it, geographically and energetically. I end up enervated about this place I’m going to be working in, and clutching two bottles of blueberry coulis that I am to try to bring in my packed bags and deliver to two people in Punta dal Este, one of whom runs an ashram out there. If this is how you become an accidental drug mule, I’m in. I even tried some of the blueberry coulis. It’s good stuff. I like a mission so I accepted it, and if I just can’t do it then I’ve ended up with two bottles of blueberry coulis and some energy that needs clearing.

Back in the car and through the dark to a little place which is the only room we could find nearby. Not up to the standard of our previous places but there’s a bed in it, and I intend to sleep the night. One more sleep before London.

Morning at the walled city
Evening on the volcano

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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