Dec 19th, 2023 I will start this adventure how I seem to start many of them; reminiscing about misadventures past. My sister called me to talk about how she felt like she couldn’t relax, because while she was mostly packed, she still had things out she wanted to wear and to use and how she just couldn’t feel ready until all the things were neatly together in a bag, waiting to be picked up and hauled off to the airport on her back. I understand the feeling. I wish I could be packed, instead of scattered. My van has been in the shop for two solid weeks now. A nightmare, really, when your vehicle is your house, but also simply inconvenient when you want to pack for a trip out of the country, and all of your things are neatly locked away two miles down the road. I stopped by the mechanics today to fill a tupper with necessary items. “Be back soon,” said a hand-scratched note, taped to the door. No telling what “soon” means in country time. I’ve been feeling stressed. To be fair to myse
Maya’s departure date is here, and though Thomas and I never truly sat down and discussed a plan - too caught up in the excitement of the festival in Fafiao, camping, and getting rained out in the national park - our intention to do the Camino de Santiago through Portugal becomes more and more apparent, as we both behave as though that simply is the plan, no discussion needed. We shove our sun dried clothes and sleeping bags into packs, and after trying and failing to hitchhike out of town, call the lovely Mario to take us to the bus station. The day passes in a blur. Trying to plan everything in the few moments of wifi between walking or busing or waiting. We book a room in Porto 5 minutes before boarding our bus there. It hits me rather suddenly that we’re separating from Maya after two solid weeks together (for me and her), and it feels hard, but she reminds me we’ll be at a festival together in a month, easing the difficulty. We arrive to Porto. Maya heads to her next bus, and