Murcia, A Road Less Travelled.
Part I
Sometimes in life it’s the little decisions that have the biggest effect on which paths we choose or the directions we take. There are times when our lives have taken us up a certain path and no matter how we much try to hide it with “buying things” something just doesn’t seem right, something deep inside us keeps asking the question “Is that it, is that all there is?”
Sometimes making those decisions is a little like jumping into a fast flowing river. The decision-making is one thing, where it takes you quite another. It’s these times in your life when something as simple as making that decision which sets you off on a roller coaster ride through five countries and brings you to a place where maybe, just maybe, you feel as if you might belong.
We found ourselves doing just that exactly two years ago. We’d lived in Amsterdam, The Netherlands, for three years and Galway, in the West of Ireland for two, but for various reasons still hadn’t found what we’d been looking for. So after much soul searching we made the decision to up sticks and move to Spain in search of a new life and adventure.
Having told our Family’s of the decision we had made and answered the inevitable question of “Why Spain”? to which in all honesty we had no real answer apart from “Why not?” we handed in our respective notices to our employers and set about packing up our belongings. We then sold our car and with the help of a close friend shipped our furniture etc back to Holland and set about closing bank, electricity, phone and mobile accounts and booked our flights to Holland where we had planned to buy a left hand drive car.
After spending almost two weeks in the East of Holland saying our goodbyes, buying a car and tying up some loose ends the day finally came to turn the key in the ignition and begin our European road trip that eventually lead us to Murcia, Spain. I can still clearly remember the feeling of “Oh oh, what have we done” as we left my Partners Parents home, her Family waving us goodbye as we set off on our new adventure. There was a very real sense, and please excuse my language of “Oh Shit, this is it”. All we had was one another (which, as we all learn eventually, is all you need), the car in which we travelled (which I eventually christened Christine for her extremely annoying habit of closing her doors whilst you weren’t quite in yet) and the contents of the aforementioned car which included a two man tent, camping gear, pots, pans, gas stove etc and enough clothes to get us through seven days of any weather.
With our hearts in our mouths we left Holland and travelled on through Belgium briefly brushing off Luxembourg and on into France. There we spent three weeks travelling which I think was enough time for me to fall in love with several wee villages and further question our reasons for heading further south…vive le France, Vive le difference or as Dell boy would say cordon blue mon cherry. The French countryside is simply breathtaking; don’t die before road tripping it.
Camping was all that I’d imagined and more. Ok maybe six weeks living in such close proximity was pushing it but my adaptation to the outdoor live was instantaneous. I could light a fire in seconds (miss-spent youth counted for something Mother). I can put up a tent in near hurricane conditions and have also learned that camping on a slope is neither conducive for a good nights sleep nor recommended when heavy rain is expected. That aside I think I might give that Ray Mears fella a run for his money in the art of survival.
Cards and this cool thing called conversation replaced television. It’s amazing you just kinda open your mouth and say what’s on your mind and the person opposite you, without having the distraction of X-Factor (I’m beginning to wonder what the X stands for), I’m A Celebrity (Like hell you are) get me out of here or the latest series of Lost (Who does their hair?) replies and says what’s on their mind. Cool eh? The thing is we now read more, listen to more music, watch less TV, have more conversations and spend most of our time outdoors. I hadn’t seen so much daylight in donkey’s years.
Crossing the border or rather what’s left of it in the Pyrenees was a bit head wrecking to say the least. We left the plush greenery of Southern France to the rather more baron and isolated bleakness that is the Spanish border. I’m sure its beautiful in its own way but my recollections of the place are lonely and desolate having left the tranquillity of France to the sounds of “The Rare Auld Times” by the Dubliners (I kid you not) playing on French radio. When you’re open to it there are always little signs to guide you and as Luke, Ronnie and the Boys crackled off into radio wave nothingness you could have cut the atmosphere in our car with a very blunt spoon. This was it. Spain.
To be continued…….