Porto-Vigo-Mallorca-Berlin

10 days ago I got on my new walking-journey, starting from Porto all the way up along the Portuguese coast. Porto gave me a great start and the walk along the ocean was full of freezing, cold wind, humid air that tastes like salt and the sound of wild Atlantic waves. The mystical foggy mornings that makes you feel alive.

Camino Portuges de la Costa is generally nicely indicated and has enough public Albergues to keep sleeping for 5€/night. Important notice: enormous café con leche in the coast villages is a real morning-glory that you can enjoy for 0,80€. Could you ask for more?

Vigo was a big big surprise, not only because of wonderful people who have shared with me their home and stories, but also because of the discovery of the Islands Cies: almost like Galapagos, never-ending white beaches and mountains in the middle of the ocean. After 40km daily walk it was a brilliant rest.

Finally, Mallorca, which was only too good to be true. It has great white sand and turquoise water, hidden beautiful villages and breath-taking Cabrera. If you are lucky enough to be in the right place in the right moment, you can see (and reach) all the stars from there.

Today I landed in Berlin, somehow I managed to carry everything with me and find the way to the small room that for now is going to be my new home. Today all I feel is nostalgia and a healthy amount of missing of my time in Spain that has ended for now.

Every time you get somewhere for a while, you find places you fall in love with, you find people you adore with all your heart and you can’t help but feel warm coming back. There was the last walk through Barcelona with music and memories and today I am already far away again. As always, there is this brutal consciousness of having lived a wonderful chapter of your life that is not going to be repeated and the people you have met will remain irreplaceable.

Sometimes it may seem like it is all fantastic, exciting and enriching but there is something not easy to this come-and-go lifestyle. On an evening like this, when you just packed all your stuff out and you are not in your old flat in Carrer Matilde, but somewhere in Germany, you feel a bit heavy. Perhaps it is just human and that’s okay.

So again, in how many places can you feel really at home? In how many places can you leave a piece of your heart? Is this resource unlimited?

 

 

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