The atmosphere of this town had been very conducive towards my writing of the story so far, though of course I am only the mere scribe. But the story wanted to be written and so a tranquil setting like this was the perfect place. I hope that at some point in the future I might find myself back in Tres Mares, to complete and put all the finishing touches to the book, this place being paradise on earth. The Plaza de España in the older part of the town being one of the most lovely settings I have encountered, had become home to some of the writing hours thusfar.
So up at dawn, despite it being somewhat later at this time of the year, and off to see the new roads of Andalucia. A big sleepy hug from Qt to wish me luck, and I was away. Of course because we were travelling by different methods today, I utilized the fact that she was going by coach, and left her with my clothes to be washed, with the idea she might find a launderette and do some washing. Well at the very least I would gain the relief of this few extra kilos, for the journey, however, needing to carry extra water soon had the pack weight back to what it had been previously. I had no real idea of, if and where the opportunity to replenish supplies would come. But of course drinking it would eventually lessen the weight some. On other caminos, the information is well documented as to where all of the refilling points for water are, but as this is an uncommon route, nothing should be left to chance.
Talk about strange coincidences. I had recently given Qt, "The Alchemist", by Paulo Coelho. One of my most favourite novels about journeys and adventures. And here as I left the small town, I met with a man, who directed me towards a little known track out of the town. The path was only passable on foot and led down the hillside, cutting shorter the route via the access roads. it was a dusty old track at first, becoming a centuries old cobbled cart track, winding down the valley side.
In the book, "the Alchemist", a boy called Santiago, a shepherd in the Andalucian mountains, sets off in search of treasure, that he had dreamt of on several occasions. His simple life, suddenly becomes full of choices. And following his heart he sets off from Tarifa, to see the pyramids of Egypt. This was very much in my mind as I arrived in Tarifa myself some days ago. Though my adventure, one that I would be sharing in part with Qt, was to be setting off in completely the other direction, I none the less smiled at the significance it held for me.
As I left the smiling man, I met leaving the village, I had to remark how out of place he had seemed. His voice was tainted with and echo of the East, his Spanish as good, only as my own. But the twinkle in his eyes reminded me of the King of Salem. I pondered this briefly as I walked briskly away, convincing myself only of my furtive imagination. But as I rounded the bend at the bottom of the paved road, I turned, I couldn't get the feeling out of my mind. Sure enough the man had vanished. Even the bench upon which he had sat was gone. A gust of wind ruffled my hair, yet no trees showed similar air disturbance. If I had been asleep before, then I was wide awake now, and ready for anything. I sometimes lie to myself as well, and so when I heard the tinkling of bells, I assumed that it had all been a silly dream. Here was I walking to Santiago de Compostela, in the north west corner of Spain, some 1200km away, and already I was losing the plot.......
Along the track came a herd of goats, or they could have been sheep. I'm no great expert on livestock you should know ! Some black ones and little kids made up the collage. And blending into the midst of the small flock came the shepherd. A lean, medium height, older gentleman, with a huge wide eyed smile. I wanted to greet him with some witty comments, based on my previous rhetoric, but fought against such foolishness.
"Good morning young man". He greeted.
"I see you are off on your journey too". Came the follow up.
I was about to reply, when he added.
"Pay attention to the omens".
We stood only metres apart, sheep or goats milling around us everywhere, as I became temporarily speechless. In his eyes, I could realise a lifetime of his own travels to foreign shores and searches for treasure. I dared to believe that I was infact, face to face with one of my greatest heros. It seemed as though time had stood still, the sun moved nowhere and the song of the birds had ceased also. I was awash with a strange feeling of peace and tranquility. The man before me, the boy I knew from fables, kept his gaze upon me.
All of a sudden, the flock scattered, the silence was released and a snake was crossing the track just ahead of us. We smiled as the serpent slithered away, affraid of the goats no doubt.
"Santiago, I presume ?" Was my opener.
"Ah, you have heard of me then ? Well friend, go in peace and follow your dreams. And remember, where your heart is, your treasure will be also".
He said, waving me goodbye, as he set off up the track, not waiting for more conversation.
"Wait". I called after him. "What about Fatima ?"
He turned, still smiling broadly. Rubbing his chin with a pensive thought begging to take over.
"What about her ?" He responded.
"Well, did you return from your travels and marry her ?" I quizzed.
"Friend. Curiosity killed the cat. Ask only of the universe, what is really important to you. Fatima is, as Fatima is. You will meet your own Fatima, when you stop really searching and open your eyes to the life you were born to live".
His eyes widened with the beginings of a laugh.
"Look only for answers to the important things of life, then you will have your rewards".
And with a wave of his hand, he was gone and I was dismissed.
For a moment I was unable to move, riveted to the spot. The sound of his goats' bells, following him up the trail and away. Was I in a dream. Had I really met with, "The" Santiago, now an old man, still tending his flocks as carefully as ever ?
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