Carambal, the day after

Still, on the same day of Carambal, at around lunch time I was woken up by the rest of the house; a quick wash, some clean clothes on and we went out, to have a branch coffee to help us wake up; also to have a few more memories to keep safe of the people and adventures we had had there.

But after such lovely time we had, time was hushing us home again. But it wasn't my time now yet, as I had another half-a-day in the french metropolis. Funny is to see how the land shifts as we move souther in the continent; how the language changes, the way of being in the environment, the way people dress and their day-to-day doing. And I thus wonder, if there is such a change in such a little gap, between London and Paris, I wonder how grand will these changes be when I leave the European borders to embrace the remaining lands over the mountain? 

A quick about, before dinner, at Cour Saint-Émilion, suggestion of Alizée, to see not only but also this market, a former building that was after converted into this kind of street market, with plenty of restaurants and galleries, worth to pay a visit to. A thing that I tried to see again but realised the reason why we didn't go the first time I visited Paris, was Le Gare Montparnasse.

The first time I came here, I witnessed one of the best sunsets over Paris I've ever seen but had no chance to record it. So, when faced again with that giant building and the possibilities to be made on that terrace, I just didn't took the change this day because of the certainty that this day wasn't the ideal day to do it an also the acquired fact that I would be there again, soon enough to try again this attempt of a magical photograph still to be accomplished... it shall be done, that is certain. When or under which conditions, that I'm yet to know.

Monday morning, and the room that was once lively and very folky, was now empty to none but two people; me and Alizée. A drink a tea and grab a biscuit, pick up your backpack; don't forget half of the stuff behind. But please, do not get late to the coach!

I do not yet understand why I push myself so much to get to thing right on the limbo. Is it that felling the rush and questioning the possibility of the already arranged; what can come due to that was not accomplished, when the reason why we went there had been already satisfied to the marrow, not making the last step puts us in that very questionable situation of "damn, what next?"

This felling of the uncertain is.... very.... very good a-having!

And for now, we stay here.

Carambal, mon ami

The sun was yet to be seen, already was I exiting the coach that had taken me all the way from London to Paris, were I would spend three amazing days dancing, discovering the city and of course, spending a great deal of time with incredible people.

Having arrived so early to Paris (Alizée was still asleep) gave me the opportunity to go around a while and see the sunrise over the Eiffel city. Despite my walks, I soon realised about my dead phone and thus, the inability to get in contact with Alizée and thus, manage to get to her place. This made me go around a few blocks until, near Louvre, I manage to find a free-internet shop where I managed to get online, hence managing to top charge my telephone and consequently comunicate with her.

Soon after I was at her place, which is quite near Montmartre, and people were starting to put a small street market on. Time to rest a while and wait for the rest of the group, still on their way to Paris; to Carambal.

When everyone arrived, a little chat, some tea and many laughs, we head out, to see Montmartre, and the yet to re-discover bits and dips.. A few hours we spend, catching up or knowing the newly-made companions, while trekking  up the steep roads that lead to Sacre Coeur. Many clouds hovering the sky were making preparations for a rainy festivity day but yet, we carried on, for no rain would be impediment of having a good time of the little hours we had to be there.  

We hence moved on and, close to the time the ball was about to begin, we head back to put some food on the belly, rest and get ready to dance a whole night long!

Immense traffic, a lot of rain and a little delay didn't make any difference to our mood. Rather, it made us more anxious about what was about to happen! As we goot in, we realised a grand space, big and wide like a warehouse, split into two: one of the divisions was the stage zone and the opposite, on the right, the restauration space, with amazing crepes and cakes; a cloakroom for everyone to hang their rainy coats and extra layers.

The ball itself started at 7.30pm... already past half six in the morning me and a still big group of yet resistent ones were dancing, and playing or just hanging a bit more until our bodies could not handle any other step. It was what indeed happened to me! While dancing with Lúcia, until my body, wrecked by so much dance, crashed on the ground, along with her, in a bumbling way. No need to say that, once we got to the ground, we couldn't stop laughing by what had just happened and, despite laughable, my body shouted "this all you danced at Carambal".

This said, hugs and kisses given, I went towards the metro. The only issue about taking metro at this time of the morning is that the tiredness on my body was so much that every seat on the metro seat felt like the best mattress ever. This lead to have to change direction and metro three times before I was able to exit on the right station.

No need to say that wen I go home, I crashed almost immediately to recharge batteries.

Oh London,

Where have you been all this time? Gods from the Olympia came down to watch what you had to display. Their athletes, their fans, their opposites. Such exuberant, lively city that seems to have room for everyone willing to adapt to the impositions this city makes to the ones that endure here. But where where you?

You have a bit of everything here. A little more than 7 million people living in the same city... I think it is normal to feel the rush and pressure of such amount of wonders and wishful thoughts.

Things can be rough, but also cheerful; You to decide, no matter where.

For now, I'll stay here. A few travels are waiting for me and I for them.

But for now, I stay here.

The city of Knowledge

The other day I left home to pay a visit to my grandma. We went three days and although short, it was very well enjoyed time seeing and knowing everyone's whereabouts and health. Though older and troubles apart, we still often see many smiles and warmth from them. Isn't this better than money?

As a gift to you, I show you know the place of my birth. The city of Knowledge, Coimbra.

Looking for Spain - The last journey

The next morning was dedicated to look around to some of very interesting things that Coruña has. One of those is probably the most ancient, still working lighthouse in the whole world: Hercule's Tower. Unfortunately, after a restoration, I look at the tower and feel like it lost part of its history. Not saying that the Tower is bad, that is not where I want to get. I'm just stating that, by looking at this reconstructed tower, built on 2 century A.D., all polished and even re-designed, I feel like the stories of such ancient lighthouse were somehow lost with its legends. The story, that gets engraved in their walls, like scars in our bodies, are covered to make you look at something that is not Hercule's Tower anymore but something brand new; a whole new Tower, not Hercule's anymore...

Anyhow, it felt funny to go inside such old foundations and having to walk all the way up, to the balcony, imagining how could it have been to see, through the same balcony, fleets of ships, sailing to distant lands; guiding the course of incoming boats, through the misty, tempestuous night to get to shore; and the way this same place around looked like before… how many more rivers did it had? how few houses, and how much landscape... it seems that some views over the tower still look like unchanged, apart from a little path leading to the very edge of the hill, leading to a solar watch, gaining control over the time, without the need of a wrist to hold such weight.

Because of some arguments we had with the GPS to see a prime spot at Bilbao, I managed to persuade all to go to the hill over Coruña, to have a grasp over the city and the surrounding sea, and enjoy of the comfort of the grass, the freshness of the wind, the smoothness of the clouds and the happiness of a very nice time.

But yet we had to move on, like gaining conscience of becoming close and closer from your home; this sense of feeling that we are more than half way through. That home is nearer.

Anyhow, we carried on. Towards the end of the world, it was. It's name, Finisterre, literally says the end of the world. And it was believed that Finisterre was associated with the edge of the world, according to Pre-Christian beliefs. Also, it is a very special location for pilgrims, for it is the place where, after the pilgrimage, there is this sense of re-birth and the place where one physically burns his one-self. Such place as Finisterre.

Being no pilgrims nor rubber tramps, although apparently making similar routes with them, we journeyed on, back to Santiago de Compostela, to see the wonder that the city brings to the people from there. As we got in, after the middle of the day and walked about, what I felt about the city, despite all its beauty and history and sublimeness was the reason why people go to Santiago. More than half of the people we where crossing paths with or along where there because of the cathedral; because of the pilgrimage; because of their beliefs. The epicentre of the city was the cathedral and, the larger amount of people were gathered around it. The mass was still on so what we saw could not be photographed, for respect over the ones praying inside.

We all knew that this was gonna be our last day. That after this day we would get to the comfort of our house but yet so many places were kept away from us... so much more we could have seen...! And yet, we were still moving on; this time towards the beautiful city of Vigo, following the increasingly descending trajectory of the sun.

Arriving in Vigo was somehow like arriving at Porto. So many similarities between both cities, despite the divergences on the landscape. What I am trying to say is that the ambience of the city is very alike Porto's, which can kind of enhance this amiableness that we often see between the north of Portugal and the very North West of Spain.

Adding to that, there was an event being held in Vigo at that time. It was sponsored by Red Bull and everyone was able to use the platforms and toys they had in display for the one that felt like doing it, could give it a go. This gathering made the city so much alive, with music dancing around the long avenues near the river, the massive amounts of people gathered around the rings where one could see break dancers performing many times better than what you usually would, many kids trying to do and learn some new tricks on the boards and a crowd, happy and pleased to be able to see such event.

But more intense and beautiful to witness was not the event being held, but the view of Vigo. The light had been going down beautifully and it was promising to be astonishing; One great enough to be remembered for days to come! Hence, at the established time, I set out and started doing this panorama, telling a small tale of a city, that being covered with darkness of the night, gets illuminated, and clouds change their colour to that of fire, while the rest of them are slowly, step by step darkened more and more until we see them no more and all that's left is of the city.

After a well deserved dinner, as farewelling such great journey, we set course to the warmth of our house, where we would get in about 3 hours, from Vigo.

We were tired, grumpy and not willing to store all we had brought with us. We hence went to bed and left the next day to rest and start establishing to the new pace, for as little as possible, before the very next travel of Eoin.

And for now, we stay here.