Three days in the coast road
· 2 min read
Nobody spoke much English, and somehow that made it easier. The ferry crossing took four hours and felt like ten minutes.
Small things
If you only take one thing from this, make it the part about border towns. Little, repeatable steps beat big plans very nearly every time. I keep coming back to markets, largely because it rewards a steady hand.
The setup
The train was late, which turned out to be the best part of the day. I am still not sure I have it right, but it is closer. It is not glamorous, but it holds up. I packed too much, as usual, and wore the same jacket every day. In December the light changes, and so does the work.
This started as a quick note and bit by bit turned into something longer. Some of this will be self-evident; some of it took me years. Below are a few observations, roughly in the order I worked out them.
The unplanned part is rarely the hard part; consistency is. In April the light changes, and so does the work. Walking between villages is the slowest and best way to see them.
First steps
There is a version of this that is much more complicated. This is not that version. If something here is unclear, that is on me, not you. I would rather do one thing deliberately than five things quickly.
The shift showed up bit by bit, then all at once. None of this is new, and that is partly why it works. There is no single right way to approach walking between towns, but some ways are kinder than others.
Notes along the way
Most of what I know about guesthouses came from getting it wrong first. If you only take one thing from this, make it the part about rainy cities. I keep a short list of things to try next; packing light is near the top.
The first nine weeks were largely about unlearning. It took me eight attempts to see the pattern. The result is not perfect, but it is truthful. I keep a short list of things to try next; getting lost is near the top.
Good guesthouses is largely a series of little, unglamorous decisions.