A good place to camp...

...is surprisingly hard to find. The Inn valley is very agricultural and I often felt that I was trespassing. Finny took his guard duties seriously, and the amount of dog-walkers, joggers, and cyclists meant that we rarely had a restful night. Things are better here in the mountains - these photos are of a good camp, on sacred ground. Perfect weather today as we crossed the Arlberg Pass. Intense light too, and many seeds carried on the breeze by their parachutes of shining fluff. Sometimes two bump into each other and get stuck together - not a bad metaphor for love, really.

Taking advantage of a rainy rest day for an extra post.

The pleasure of walking is of course its slowness. I have been able to hear accents change from Salzburgerish to Bavarian to Tyrolean, I have observed different customs (like the huge plywood cutouts of storks on the fronts of buildings in the Tyrol, announcing the arrival of a newborn), and I have taken time to explore the old centre of Innsbruck - a little gem. But above all there have been moments when the questions (what am I doing with my life?) cease, the objects around me take on greater clarity and plasticity, and the term 'suchness' begins to make sense. (100)

In Innsbruck.

There are two cross-cultural religious recommendations that resonate with me: fasting, and pilgrimage. Fasting, as well as being physically healthy (http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/magazine/article4530742.ece), is a training of one's ability to tolerate discomfort - possibly the most valuable training there is. A pilgrimage, or a long walk (a recent sign informed me that I still have 2688km to go) is more complex. It is bringing home to me that the journey is more important than the destination, perhaps even is the destination. The parallels with life are obvious, but it is good to feel these things through your body, and be reminded of them constantly. (100, excluding link)

P.P.S... e basta.

I am tempted to delete my original post. Finny is in much better spirits today - it's cooler, and we have had two friendly canine encounters which have built up his confidence. But more importantly, we walked past a family whose two young children were fighting and screaming. The boy was particularly snot-nosed and spiteful-looking, and he kept attacking his sister with a stick. Both parents had that harried, bleary-eyed, slightly pudgy look that is so common. I am sure this is not what they had planned for their Sunday outing, and so much more is at stake. (100)

Troubles with Finn.

Strange how the best laid plans will come undone just where you least expect it. The one thing I was certain of was that Finny would have a blast on this trip, but that isn't the case. He is out of sorts, sitting down in the shade and refusing to move, and growling and snapping at other dogs, whereas in Beirut he was the most gentle and diffident of animals. Maybe it's the heat, or the move, or simply adolescence. But it brings up solid meditative material - my own relationship with frustration, and change, and the things I can't control. (100)

P.S. I realise I have written two posts in quick succession, but I didn't write one last Sunday, and I want to make the most of having a charged phone and a wifi connection.

Salzburg to St. Johann in Tirol.

Four days in, but it feels a lot longer than that. That is partly because the preparation was a journey in itself - I had to move out of my apartment in Beirut, sell a car and a motorbike (tricky, owing to Lebanese bureaucracy), then I flew back to London with Finny (also tricky), before driving to Austria. Since then we have been walking through picture perfect Bavarian & Tyrolean villages, in the dog days of summer. As in the early days of a meditation retreat (n=1), I have found myself surprisingly emotional, tearing up at odd moments - an interesting phenomenon. (100)