#lifetings

- Victoria Beckham in an open letter to her 18-year-old self. Just a lot of life inspiration. 

Ive been meaning to sit down and properly write an account of the last few weeks for, well, the last few weeks.

Moving to Spain has been a thing on the life agenda for years and now that it has happened it feels so normal. People often ask how we ended up here and the answer is ‘it just kind of..happened.’

Uprooting everything and leaving the country is a lot easier than it sounds. Just plan lightly and steadily for a few months then pack everything you own into a big bag some hours before your flight.

Watching Netflix’s minimalism documentary before going made being materialistically ruthless a lot easier. Less than a week later I may have moaned about charity-shopping an old faithful denim dress but another week after that and it’s forgotten. Clothes don’t really matter when you’re digging a hole to plant a fig tree on the side of a mountain.

I’m currently writing this from a tiny-house in a place called La Candadosa whilst Torben, or Jupiter, prepares some garden pumpkin with giant pepper and brown rice for lunch. I pulled some spring green-esque leaves and chopped them ready for a sprinkle of nutmeg and olive oil. Andreas, our workaway host, has taken the Sunday for quality time with his mujer, who also lives in Asturias building a massage retreat in her panera. A panera is a building specific to Asturias, its a kind of square barn house with a wooden wall around the top layer which was traditionally used for storing the grains and other dried foods.

Lidia’s is now converted to a sleeping house and dining area for guests and volunteers. Earlier in the week we were welcomed to hers with old jazz records inviting us in to see the table laid with a transparent tray of salad leaves, large bowled shining wine glasses and the low wooden beams making the otherwise cold room rather cosy.

Lidia’s new volunteer Zelah had arrived shortly before us and we connected instantly with a flame of energy. The conversation was filled with a slowly burning excitement which fuelled prospective of a future ecocommunity and networking the many existing permaculture projects in Asturias.

Permaculture is basically finding a way to make growing things sustainable and environmentally friendly. Finding a way to live wholesomely and healthily without making the climate suffer was a big part of the reason we decided to leave England. There are a lot of these projects going on in parts of Europe and we plan to travel through them learning how best to run an ecocommunity.

The big dream is to have an ecocommunity which is envisioned as some kind of large dome in which to do yoga, meditation and disco. There’ll be gardening, growing food, making music, writing, painting and work that makes people happy.

Before embarking on such a task, it seems advisable to experience versions of these realities whilst developing to at least in some way fledged human beings. No one can ever be a fully fledged adult, that would be too serious.

In our bunk above the dinner table four of us talked deeply about life and those personal themes that can be hard not to take with us everywhere. Everyone was so open. We spoke of loneliness, addiction, depression and healing from that. Despite the melancholic nature of the topics, the discussion was uplifting and held a warm tone to it. Already that feeling of communal living has started to creep through into our expanding hearts.

At first we were thinking of finding some kind of apartment or flat in the city and working a bit/socialising/meeting great people but now we are volunteering with workaway we’re quite sure that travelling first is the best option. Also the renewed lust for that communal feeling has somewhat overtaken the desire for a personal space. Life is just better with people.

Oviedo, the city we flew to, is nice but doesn’t feel quite real. The whole thing is almost like being in an open air museum. In one sense that’s lovely, because you have the hill coming down from the cathedral with Tierra Astur and other restaurants pouring Sidra into fragile 70cl glasses as has been done for years in this region. The sidra is made and harvested all over Asturias and is often produced by locals using their own apple orchards. A bottle with enough for six glasses costs about €1 in shops and little more at a restaurant. The custom is to use one glass and drink the whole lot in quick succession amongst friends. Its daily consumption with all meals at La Candadosa is justified by the claimed health benefits of the fermented apples. I’m happy to believe it.

The dull warm buzz it gives reverberates around the pubs, cafes and bars of Asturias, with every customer wishing those who leave ‘hasta luego’ or ‘buenas’ with a smile as they enter. People are friendly, warm and welcoming.

Cheese and cured meats are also hugely popular here, and though I enjoyed all of the traditional culture and play happening every night in Oviedo, after about the fifth day I did start to question the meaning of life. An entry in the bullet journal that day is simply ‘life: meaningless?’. The thoughts lead mostly to the conclusion that finding fulfilling work and flow is neccessary: bar hopping and even sitting in parks eating fruit will eventually become monotonous.

One thing that I truly must point out a love for, however, is the theme and philosophy of Asturian culture which is wonderful: mujar. This means to mop up the juices, to wipe every last bit of olive oil, tortilla and fresh tomato off your plate with a large hunk of crusty white pan. Asturian culture does not waste or take for granted; it savours, devours and celebrates, literally all the juice from the bone. I’ve admittedly been close to a moment of vegetarian weakness in the face of barbecued pork ribs atop a mountain of oily chips in a warm and wooden family barn in Novellana. Sidra and salad saved me.

The place we stay eats almost wholly vegetarian food. Stews, curries, vegetable pasta, salad, etc, so it has been easy and enjoyable to eat with so many other people.

Not only do we share food but knowledge and experience. I’ve learned about gardening, planting trees, mulching (‘mulch is king’), building a sauna, astrology, group healing, permaculture and some Ancient Greek tales recounted in an Irish accent.

Astrology is now a topic of specific interest. It’s endeavour is unlimited, and I’m now more spiritually sure of myself as a swamp witch. Michevious pranks are now followed with the comment ‘that’s a classic Scorpio joke’.

We are so much happier living in the grass roofed Pilgrim’s Cabin just off the route of el Camino de Santiago, with our stuff sprawled across low mattresses and muddy boots at the foot of the chestnut doors. There’s even an enamel tin bedpan hanging on the branch outside, which is a dream come true.