Walking Backwards

 

Walking Backwards

I have been doing this for a couple of weeks now, metaphorically that is, I suspect that if I had physically been doing this for any period of time I would not be in a fit state to write this!

My last blog reflected on moving on, working out what exactly is it that I want to do?

Midsummer Procession 2015.

'I will walk backwards away from what I thought I was going towards, to gain an overview of it and its environs. I will retreat slowly and carefully and see what aspects of the blog writing that I miss, and hopefully this will remind me of why I have kept writing every week for the last year.'

Well, thankfully it hasn't taken long to recognise what I miss and also what it is that I enjoy discovering whilst out walking, that I want to share with others.

Talking to people who have read the blog over the last year and hearing their impressions of it have greatly helped too.

Shadow company on the path.

I have been told that it is easy to 'dip into', another said it was 'an escape', a third told me how much she appreciated reading about my walking experiences when she herself was unable to walk any distance due to poor health, she said it was like she was accompanying me anyway! These comments were very much appreciated as I gather my thoughts on why, how and what type of book I shall be writing.

Finding Form

Despite any disappointment I may have had that the publisher didn't instantly give me a huge cheque for my thoughts when I met up with him the previous week, I have still kept up with any walking, research and networking opportunities! I went to a fascinating poetry reading at the University of Kent with a friend a couple of weeks ago. Tom Chivers was reading from his new (beautiful) book 'Dark Islands', published by Test Centre, 2015. I loved the way his writing was highly observant, imaginative and often playful.

Here are a couple of stanzas from my favorite poem in the book, titled 'The Islanders'.

'The islanders were digital natives,

bronzed and nubile, their ankles garlanded

with flash drives fashioned from conch shells.

At dusk they danced a ritual waltz,

the men intoning Windows log-off

as the sun passed beyond the horizon.'

Tom's work, especially this one, reminded me of some writing by Will Self, in his Penguin mini-book 'Scale' about the future tribes who will inhabit service stations on the defunct motorways. I feel that imagination like this is very accessible and it excites me as it is a subtle and clever twist on our known reality. Both Tom's and my own work is inspired by similar interests although the processes and outcomes are different, so I hope to keep in touch with him.

Reflections.

I will continue to find my form in the next couple of weeks and then I will be off, knowing I am moving in the right direction. I may not be following an existing path but making my own. Perhaps that is what has been the hesitancy in progressing with this book any sooner.

Familiarity

Familiarity

I have just come back from a 5 day break in Cadiz. It was the third time I have visited this beautiful city and at last I felt a sense of familiarity with its streets. The first time I visited I remember thinking this was an impossibility.

At home in Cadiz.

The streets seemed to have no plan, they criss-crossed the peninsular, some stopped abruptly in a dead end whilst others opened up unexpectantly onto tree filled squares. In my imagination I had compared this place to a cleaner, friendlier and sunnier version of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld city, Ankh Morpork.

A typical street in Cadiz.

The difference between orientating yourself in a northern European city and this one, 59 miles away from Tangiers, Africa as I see it is one of scale and proportion. The climate and topography are obviously very different and these factors have influenced the evolution of the street system, the buildings and therefore our familiarity with its form.

Details of places once visited become familiar landmarks.

Cadiz gets very hot and one way of creating shady passageways amongst the city is to build taller buildings, close together, so that the sea air is funnelled through the streets, allowing for a cooler more comfortable city environment.

Looking up.

I have grown up in the UK where in comparison, the climate and topography is variable and in general the streets are wider and buildings lower than those in Cadiz and this allows landmarks to be more easily recognised from a distance.

Path in the Botanical gardens.

Whether they are manmade or natural these landmarks have given me a spatial awareness by which I have been able to map my environment. Even in a city like London, the vista is wide enough to be able to pinpoint a landmark and orientate myself. The scale of London is larger than that of Cadiz which is more of a pedestrian or human scale model.

Orientation

One of the difficulties of navigating around Cadiz is that it is set out on a peninsular away from the mainland of Spain. This creates many views through the streets that look similar; multiple narrow streets have a brilliant glow at the end, as the space becomes expansive and the sun on the ocean glints in the distance.

Looking out to sea.

Laurie Lee in his novel, ’As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning’ described the city well.

‘ Cadiz, from a distance, was a sharp incandescence, a scribble of white on a sheet of blue glass, lying curved on the bay like a scimitar and sparkling with African light.’

His other descriptions of the city are detailed and don’t paint the place as a pleasant destination at all. I am glad to say that it has changed; it is quite beautiful and charming now, with wonderful architecture, food and culture.

Door detail.

But on this visit, once I had relooked at my old map and taken note of the shape of the peninsular and remembered familiar ‘hang-outs’ from previous years, (such as various bars, the beach and market areas), it took me a while to orientate myself but then it was clear! I continued to add information on this trip to my past knowledge of the place and suddenly it felt familiar.

Detail from one of the many church facades.

This was a very comforting feeling to achieve and made me realise once again how important my project could be, connecting people to place through walking, discovering or rediscovering their locality.

Festivals and Rituals

The reason why I have visited Cadiz so often in the last few years is because of my interest in Flamenco. I have always loved the music and costume, so when a teacher offered classes in flamenco movement 5 years ago, I joined up. Four years ago we travelled out to Jerez, a neighbouring town of Cadiz and participated in our first Feria.

The Feria at Jerez is a place to promenade.

The history of the ‘Feria de Caballo’, (Jerez horse fair), goes back to over 500 years ago, when it was the location for a livestock fair, which ran from April to September. Over time it grew in popularity and stands were put up by local wine and sherry producers to sell to the spectators and participants. The specific dates are based on a three week timescale after Semana Santa, (the week leading up to Easter Sunday.)

Promenading by day and night.

People in this area have connected to the place where they live by participating in this event each year, watching the horses parade up and down the park and dancing Sevillanas in the surrounding ‘casetas’. This shared experience of an annual event is valuable to a community in many ways. It can bring people together, build community, encourage pride in a place and also inspire tourists to visit.

Flamenco costume in Cadiz streets.

During my MA study I researched the history of connection to the land through ritual use, including processional movement, symbolic landscape markers and ceremonial gatherings. The feria at Jerez was very interesting to visit with these aspects in mind.

Here in the UK there were many more annual festivals that have been lost. One I am particularly aware of was the ‘Scouring of the White Horse’ at Uffington in Oxfordshire. Thomas Hughes of ‘Tom Brown’s School Days’ fame, wrote a book with this title back in 1859 and depicts the ceremonial annual practice of scouring the chalk cut horse, so that its white shape can be seen with greater clarity from a distance.

The ceremonial path at Avebury has inspired me to paint.

The artist Paul Nash took this photo, he was also fascinated by the chalk white horse.

There is an Iron Age fort up on the hill, just above the chalk figure, it was in this enclosure, named ‘Uffington Castle’, that the festivities took place. His book details all the merry goings on and is an interesting read.

Midsummer

Next month it will be midsummer and yet again I will quietly lead a group of people up along a section of the Salt Way path to light a fire and enjoy being in that moment at that place. Over the last few years it has become even more special as I share the experience with others and they all add their own trace and story to the route.

The section of the Salt Way that we walk at Midsummer.

One lady introduced her daughter to the walk last year and they both shared a very special experience as the sun set and we sat around the fire at the top of the hill. The journey back down was lovely as the lanterns lit up the procession and people were chatting happily as fireworks went off in the distance at the harbour. I am sure this year will be wonderful again for the participants and any potential onlookers.