Escape along the Costa ...

With neither joy or sorrow, the crumbling Casa was left behind ... a strange energy, maybe influenced by the overhead wires and their field and strong WiFi at the front of the house ... sleeping quarters less so, long mornings walking, not at all (except those ubiquitous mobile phone fields, of course) ... a farewell to Poppy, who turned her back ... she will be happier with Russ, who brushes and strokes her ... I never took to her, though fed and watered her, cleaned her litter tray. .. warmer goodbyes from Russ and Susie, then on the bus to Estepona, a connection to Fuengirola and the nature of the coast changed ... more built up, more Anglified ... the train to Malaga and city energy rather draining ... escape to the airport to settle in for the evening and night ...

Good to feel the weight of the rucksack on my back again ... and having left laptop, books, clothes at the Casa to have a comfortable load, already thinking about further sifting ... with no plans for a return to San Enrique, surplus stuff is soon forgotten and the lightness of having all my stuff on my back is liberating ... and funds to supplement as required, of course ... a sleeping bag probably worth buying ... recalling hostels without blankets last time ...

The airport not the most comfortable place to spend the night ...a special brew crew camped on the concourse, an interesting subset of hippiedom, addicted to alcohol, tobacco and who knows what else, heading for Tarifa, the chap told me as he asked for 6 euros for his bus fare and rather hurt when I laughed, genuinely amused at the old bus fare story... raising questions also for the intentional community building and what to do with freeloaders ... an early flight, switching to French ... prematurely as it turned out ... the passenger sitting next to me was Spanish ...  an hour or so in relative comfort in which to sleep ... a train from Bordeaux to Limoges with more time and comfort for sleep ... and Colin there to greet me and drive the hour to Ciblat, the quiet hamlet where he passes summers now his days in public service around Durham are over ... musical culture in nearby Chamberet in the evening ... literary culture in a damp Chamberet this morning ... a chance to speak some French with helpless authors, trapped behind tables loaded with their creations ... then some advanced philosophical investigation with Colin on the nature of power in general ... Durham County Council in particular ...

The Brit expat life in France is examined a little ... compared to that along the Costa ... a subject for further exploration ... meanwhile, here's Ciblat on a drizzly day ...

Autumn ...

Arriving in Spring, lazing through Summer, leaving as Autumn begins ... Tubalitas has been a theme ... a coffee stop on the 2 hour cross country walk ... Teresa, a friendly barista, soon aware of the regular order ... an encounter over several days with an English couple, Ann and Alan, both from forces backgrounds ... finding areas of agreement ... always possible ... which triggers a thought stream from a Facebook post from another ex-forces Alan, this one a friend from Stanhope, always warm and helpful ... political views set aside in order to enable it ... the post a video from an international athletics event, the USA pole vaulter ostensibly fully focused on clearing the bar and reaching top speed when the Star Spangled Banner struck up ... like Pavlov's dog, he stopped on autopilot, stood to attention, hand on heart ... fully conditioned ... worrying to me, but apparently praiseworthy to my friend and thousands of "likers" ... critical comment on FB briefly considered, the opportunity to propose alternative words, the Blood Spattered Banner maybe ... pointless on reflection, possibly coming from my own conditioning from a communist youth ...

As a student, in the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, as well as embracing peace and love, an urgent need to act against perceived evils in Vietnam, Latin America and the junior partner role of no longer so great Britain, falling into the fallacy that means and ends could be separated, this penitent ex-communist visited the USA via Camp America, an organisation offering free flights, bed and board, plus two weeks holiday at the end, in exchange for working on a children's summer camp ... as soccer counsellor ... the daily flag raising ceremony was observed with amusement, but after two weeks, when the whole camp was divided arbitrarily into four teams, red, yellow, green and blue, all activities scoring points in a competition called Colour War ... or more correctly Color War ... our little team in the cabin cared for by Joel and me was split up, carefully nurtured cohesion shattered so that the American Way could be embedded in impressionable minds ... I declined ... earning a reputation as a red and a subsequent warning from the Camp Commandant (known as the Director) to stop sharing socialist ideas with the teenagers ...the land of the free ...

The seasons are more sharply separated here ... days cooler, albeit over 25 degrees, nights comfortable ... ants and mosquitoes taking a break while flies have their turn ... observing the insects has been fascinating and mostly painless .... as for tourists, they mostly arrive in August, when Spain stops work and schools take their holidays. .. the economy here is really two months, maybe two and a half ... meaning the beaches are quiet again ...

It is really feeling like walking weather ... Camino del Norte here we come, via a small hamlet an hour from Limoges ... and an hour from Plum Village Buddhist Centre too .... hmmm

flagellation ...

Following the uncertainty, a message arrives from Britland ... young refugees seeking warmer winters await their landlord's inspection of the flat they are vacating ... a precursor to the sometimes tricky business of recovering the deposit ... one of the games of the curse of private letting, fuelled by property speculation, buy-to-let investors, housing benefit and greed ... and news that they hope to arrive around the 24th of this month .... which spurs your blogger into action ... a kind offer of interim casa and cat care enabling the French connection ...a direct and cheap flight to Bordeaux next Saturday morning and arrival at Ciblat later the same day .... a week or so before the refugees arrive, with even that maybe dragging on ... some unrushed time catching up with regular reader and friend from the north, Colin .... before starting the long walk from Irun to the end of the earth (as the early wanderers perceived it) via Santiago de Compostela ... then south through Portugal for the winter ... maybe a visit to Plum Village Buddhist community near the new location, along the way ... though plans change, of course ...

Reflecting on this summer sojourn in San Enrique, the fine intentions to learn Spanish and study the heavy books brought along for the purpose - David Bohm, J. Krishnamurti, Rupert Sheldrake, Fritjof Capra ... none of which have been accomplished ... and though flagellation is not my style, self-awareness without self-criticism is ... musing upon the laziness, a local philosopher spoke about the Taoist story of the student asking the teacher what he was doing ... Nothing, came the reply ... the next day the same question, and the same answer .... But you were doing nothing yesterday, protested the student ... Yes, I haven't finished yet, was the reply ... doing nothing being an art little practised in busy modern living, where even leisure time is programmed and commoditised ...

The Casa has been a perfect place for doing nothing ... tucked away up a hill with almost no visitors - post has to be collected from Guadiaro, rubbish dropped in communal bins, neighbours friendly and private ... music and television eschewed ... occasional breaks from doing nothing with light reading of detective novels, the internet, writing, visiting the two long time English refugees who have kept me grounded, albeit with some esoteric information ... and plenty of walking, which is perhaps doing nothing in motion ... all of which has relaxed the mind and enabled time itself to change its character ... not easy to explain, so just allow it and maybe try for yourself ...

Five months have passed somehow, without boredom or achievement ... welcome visits from time to time ... much valued correspondents ... fit in body and mind ... ready for the next adventure ... grateful for all of it ... the peaceful pensioner life ...

Embracing uncertainty ...

... and practising patience, the third treasure of the Tao ... compassion and simplicity well under way and patience the one in need of some work .... which arrives in the form of potential incoming replacement housesitters, last heard of a week or so ago, seeking a way of shifting stuff from Sheffield to San Enrique with an estimated arrival mid-September ... but nothing since ...

As the weather is still very warm and dry, the Casa comfortable, rent-free and nearby company congenial, it is no hardship to linger longer .... though friends await news to fit with their own plans ... Colin in France, heading to Berlin this month before returning to delightfully damp Darlington for the winter ... an invitation from Jan in Penamacor, central Portugal, who has friends interested in intentional community living ... an itch to walk the Camino del Norte ... an event in the Western Algarve linked to Noomap 24th and 25th September ... fires raging thereabouts and in central Portugal too ...

Meanwhile, Diogo, a young friend from Portugal has stayed a few days, which has been wonderful ... he and his friends keen on the intentional community idea too ... which gives it so much energy as well as new skills and local knowledge  ... our topic mainly the nature of freedom. .. his next adventure in Croatia with young people from different countries on a year long Erasmus project ...

So, this experiment in freedom continues, with a chapter closing, but no certainty of when, another opening with no certainty of what ... and sometime soon all will be revealed ... with patience the practice if equanimity is to be maintained ...

Gib

Having lived with a view of the Rock since April and never moved to investigate beyond the airport, anglophile friend from Coimbra, Diogo, spending a few days at the Casa between finishing his job at the Aqua Park near Badajoz and starting a one year Erasmus project in Croatia, suggested a visit. He was intrigued by the anachronistic status of this small and highly strategic spot, still part of Britain after 400 years and long a bone of contention with its Spanish neighbour. The border was closed for many years ... at the same time retiring British gangsters were finding extradition free bolt holes along the nearby Costa del Sol ... and mainstream Spanish opinion is looking forward to closing the border again, if and when the UK departs the EU ... though not necessarily harbouring fugitives ... the folks of La Linea being just pawns in the bigger game.

The curious Diogo and your less curious blogger crossed the border easily enough, on foot, and wandered into town, a hybrid of an English pedestrianised shopping street anywhere and a touch of Spain. Another dimension is found by cable car at the top of the Rock, accompanied by throngs of cruise customers from the two big boats in port ... raising the question of cruising as a desirable holiday ... which never appealed or even occurred to me ... at the summit the twin flags offered a backdrop for the photo and the tale of this unusual combination of xenophobia and europhilia exhibited by the Gibbos (the term applied by expat Brits hereabouts ) who voted overwhelmingly to remain in the EU, whilst hanging on to an old image of England and all its traditions of tea and scones, inbred royals and, frankly, a white anglo-saxon populace, neatly arranged in a hierarchical system where everyone knows their place ...

The trip was fine, the view great, the vibe slightly weird and the cooling dip at Alcaidesa on the way home perfect to reconnect with Nature ...

From hell to hell via heaven ...

Having vilified the Sotogrande as a hell realm early in the Casa story, it has always been avoided ... apart from a couple of incursions into the port area for the Sunday market. Since San Enrique is a couple of kilometres from the coast, up the River Guadiaro, and since the bleak urbanisation which is the soulless Sotogrande spreads across the estuary, walking routes have been mainly across the campo to the coast or by car to Torreguadiaro and north away from hell. .. though other urbanisations pop up along the way ... the whole coast is infested with them.

Between the Guadiaro and La Linea is another large suburb called Alcaidesa, and the idea of exploring the coastline popped up, so bravely slipping by the armed guards, I wandered through Soto port, over the bridge and down to the sea ... the beach stretched into the distance and proved perfect for surf walking, firm underfoot and mostly deserted. After an hour or so, turning round the headland, the hollywoodesque vision of Alcaidesa appeared, complete with golf course. ... mission accomplished and with no desire to explore another hell realm, a couple of photos and a short rest was enough ... especially as this turned out to be a gay bay, with early cruising bare chaps offering a slightly predatory vibe ... a shame, since the beach was perfectly placed for a naturist friendly zone, which always appeals to your blogger, whose great pleasure is to swim as nature intended ...

The return was rewarded with a cooling dip and a coffee at the edge of the Soto ... meaning Soto prices ... €2 instead of the Tubalitas €1.20 ...and so back through the overpriced estate, with its mixture of Art Deco and traditional villas, tasteless tat, barrack like flats and look at me yachts ... though this time one or two wandering tourists responded to my greeting and my earlier harsh characterisation is revised, along with  progress in the perception of wealthy and aspiring wealthy folks as equally worthy of compassion as the poor and dispossessed, since all the clutter is really a burden in life and the sometimes snooty behaviour is mostly driven by fear ... which we know is the main obstacle to love ... 

A later encounter with an Irishman, walking a large dog, confirmed the dogalyst effect of canine companions ... before he had the dog, no-one on the urbanisations spoke to him ... now lots do ... via the dog ...

As a linguistic footnote, finding the Spanish word "urbanisation" rather clumsy and the usual English translation "development", bland, maybe we could employ "urbs" as a word? It saves on syllables, suggests suburbs, with all their lifestyle attributes and has a certain grunty sound to it ... hmmm

Dao ... and DAPPS

More synchronicity as synthesis turns up as the Angel for September and DAO has a third meaning ... in the Ethereum world it means  Decentralised Autonomous Organisation ... in blog world it is a river in Portugal and an alternative spelling for Tao, the ancient Chinese philosophy ...

DAPPS in this strange new world are Decentralised Applications, running on Ethereum, self-defined as the Decentralised Web, or Web3 ... or part of it ... critics please note this is a steep learning curve and any corrections, improvements and clarifications are welcome.

The merits of Web 3 are that there are no huge servers controlling the web, making it more democratic as well as enabling direct peer to peer contracting, thus cutting out the expensive brokers currently creaming off value ... big banking is part of all that, which is why the new financial models of Web 3,  are so popular .... and ready to pick up the slack when the next crash of traditional banks hits soon ...

Blogging on here seems rather Web2 to me ... certainly not very interactive ... so let's see how it will work on Ethereum. .. when the Daos and DAPPS are sorted ... maybe integrated with Noomap ...

And all this exciting new paradigm stuff is only one level of the huge changes afoot, so a word of warning. .. cryptography, electricity and all the cyberware is itself vulnerable to attack ... satellites may be disabled, silicon chips melted and so on ... while Noomap aspires to mimic the noosphere, the art of telepathy may be the tool needed in the future ... and self-reliance too ... all the amazing ways to communicate with folks all around the world are no use if we don't have the basics of clean air and water, fresh food and shelter ...

Well, readers may wonder what this is all about, but it is posted provisionally and liable to editing as we all learn more about the Dao ... the Decentralised Autonomous Organisation that is ... we know where the river is and its associated red wine ... and since the Dao that can be explained is not the immortal Dao of ancient wisdom, we had better not start start on that!