The Case for Windswept Guesthouses
I would rather do one thing carefully than five things quickly. Nobody spoke much English, and somehow that made it easier. A rain jacket helps, but it is not the point.
What I would do differently
The best advice I got was just to slow down. The first six weeks were largely about unlearning. Here is what changed, and what stayed exactly the same. Off-season towns are quieter, cheaper and far more truthful. There is no single right way to approach walking between towns, but some ways are kinder than others.
Modest, repeatable steps beat big plans nearly every time. You can get surprisingly far with a phrasebook and some patience. You can get surprisingly far with a paper map and some patience. The trick, if there is one, is to leave sufficient room for missteps.
We arrived after dark and only understood the view in the morning. A paper map invites conversations that a phone never does. I packed too much, as usual, and wore the same jacket every day. Half of the work is deciding what to leave out. There is no single right way to approach learning a few words, but some ways are kinder than others.
The short version
I tested the unhurried version first. It did not last. It took me two attempts to see the pattern. There is no single right way to approach getting lost, but some ways are kinder than others.
I tested the overland version first. It did not last. It is not glamorous, but it holds up. A friend once described guesthouses as hushed work, and the phrase stuck. It is effortless to overthink getting lost. It is harder to just start.
First steps
I keep coming back to markets, largely because it rewards patience. I keep a short list of things to try next; walking between towns is near the top. Thanks for reading, and for the kind notes that keep arriving. The train was late, which turned out to be the best part of the day. There is no single right way to approach keeping a journal, but some ways are kinder than others.
You can get surprisingly far with a rain jacket and some patience. I keep a short list of things to try next; travelling by train is near the top. I wrote most of this on a hushed Tuesday morning. I keep coming back to ferries, largely because it rewards patience. I wrote most of this on a hushed Sunday morning.
The first seven weeks were largely about unlearning. There is a version of this that is much more complicated. This is not that version. The result is not perfect, but it is truthful. The first nine weeks were largely about unlearning. I tested the local version first. It did not last.
The setup
I wrote most of this on a hushed Thursday morning. A friend once described mountain villages as hushed work, and the phrase stuck. I keep coming back to old maps, largely because it rewards patience. A friend once described ferries as hushed work, and the phrase stuck.
I keep coming back to border towns, largely because it rewards patience. It took me three attempts to see the pattern. The first three weeks were largely about unlearning.
The unhurried part is hardly ever the hard part; consistency is. The overland part is hardly ever the hard part; consistency is. It is effortless to overthink walking between towns. It is harder to just start. I tested the off-season version first. It did not last.