I miss them. Really. The twenty strangers-one-week-since with whom I shared 100 kilometres of road and track and tortoises, mallow, and poppies ("Oh, My!"). Such a disparate crew we were... But as was said more than once on the final day of our walk: "Such a fine bunch of people! No-one was a dick, and no-one really lost their shit despite the stress..." I guess we have all been tempered and tested in other fires, and that shone through in our caring for each other.
Somehow it feels like now, my usual daily routine of getting the boys up, getting breakfast, getting them off to school is the alien practice -- whereas the last week of waking up in a strange hotel room, packing and re-packing a rucksack, checking and re-checking water, snacks, money, passport, camera, blisters... is the norm.
Waving the boys out of the door with the usual admonitions and washing the breakfast things, have replaced Eleni's Hakka-style warm-ups, and trips between the washing machine and the line fill in for the hypnotic placing of one foot in front of the other. Frin posted a video of her feet walking on the road -- such a familiar sight! I never thought I would miss it (and am sure that I won't for long!), but just now, I do.
I would love to get out and walk -- early morning here is delicious before the heat starts closing in, but "No time! No time!" There are lesson materials to print, white board pens to find... And where are the school keys?
My old reality is once again my reality, the shared week on the road receding to that nostalgic place where aches are forgotten and camaraderie cherished. I am sure that I am not the only one who feels this sense of dislocation in returning to my daily life.
I believe that friendships were forged which will endure, and raise a (water!) glass to all who shared last week with me between Thessaloniki and Skopje.
You all know that you have a place to roost in Cyprus if you ever fly this way.
Somehow it feels like now, my usual daily routine of getting the boys up, getting breakfast, getting them off to school is the alien practice -- whereas the last week of waking up in a strange hotel room, packing and re-packing a rucksack, checking and re-checking water, snacks, money, passport, camera, blisters... is the norm.
Waving the boys out of the door with the usual admonitions and washing the breakfast things, have replaced Eleni's Hakka-style warm-ups, and trips between the washing machine and the line fill in for the hypnotic placing of one foot in front of the other. Frin posted a video of her feet walking on the road -- such a familiar sight! I never thought I would miss it (and am sure that I won't for long!), but just now, I do.
I would love to get out and walk -- early morning here is delicious before the heat starts closing in, but "No time! No time!" There are lesson materials to print, white board pens to find... And where are the school keys?
My old reality is once again my reality, the shared week on the road receding to that nostalgic place where aches are forgotten and camaraderie cherished. I am sure that I am not the only one who feels this sense of dislocation in returning to my daily life.
I believe that friendships were forged which will endure, and raise a (water!) glass to all who shared last week with me between Thessaloniki and Skopje.
You all know that you have a place to roost in Cyprus if you ever fly this way.
I love this Rachael, thank you
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