Calm as hills

Last night we entered the second half of the summer camp that started last Sunday in the Val d’Aran.

Once more I venture into the English and sports combined summer camps. Common sense told me not to waste two weeks three-hundred kilometres away from home, at the very north-western end of Catalonia, where I’m as close to the Atlantic Ocean as to the Mediterranean Sea. Nevertheless, common sense isn’t always the best adviser.

Even though I need time more than money right now, inner poise is more important than any of them. Leaving our comfort zone and breaking the routine is the only way to distinguish different periods in our life and not to abhor existence. The result is even better if the camp is in a forgotten valley with a small group which enables deeper relationships. Additionally, the director of the hostel is never here and the cook is a lovely woman, therefore we can do whatever we please, within legality — usually.

So please forgive me if I don’t show up much these days; I’m on the mountain purifying my soul from a year of urban life.

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