Aboard a delayed train to the south-west of Catalonia, traveling to the mountains of Tarragona, where I will begin a 5-day vipassana meditation retreat. I've never tried a retreat before. I have no idea or expectations. Today - I met with a friend, living in Barcelona for coffee who also advised to go without any plans or expectations.

My mobile hotspot signal becomes increasingly weaker ... so here are the notes from both before and after the experience.

My last week and half in Sheffield has been restorative. My life was centered around dog-sitting and family. My parents began their own long journey, campervan-ing through Europe, stopping in the Czech Republic, Slovenia, Austria, Italy to name a few. I've been woken each morning by energetic creatures expecting an immediate, fast-food service, followed by sufficient exercise, and of course my undivided attention for hours. Yet I've been fortunate to have had many visitors over the past week, without needing to leave the house.

Traveling to Barcelona, I've enjoyed how inviting it has felt to the unfamiliar, and unequipped traveler. People there would go as far as researching which possibly pharmacies may still be open when almost everything is closed for the National Day of Catalonia.

The Retreat

We arrived at the retreat by car. We were picked up by someone who only spoke Spanish. He happened to be one of the other guests on the retreat, asked to come and pick us up, as the organiser had forgotten to mention he had no car.

As soon as I hopped out of the car, I immediately had a nosebleed. The retreat organiser was dressed as a Guru from waist-down, yet had no shirt on, and wore a pair of black luxury shades. Our phones were confiscated as part of the experience, which was a surprise.

The accommodation was far worse than any cheap hostel I've stayed in - caravans that had never been cleaned; my duvet and pillow had no cover; brown "drinking" water from the taps outside; a wasp nest inside the roof vent.

I spent the last few days recovering from bed-bug bites, viciously cleaning all my clothes and buying new ones in the meantime 🥲

We were told that most of the retreat would involve fasting. We ate a small dinner in the evening, and informed that the next meal would be in 24 hours.

The following morning involved a dangerous 4-hour hike through the steep mountains under the scorching sun. Upon returning, I was entirely drained. Each time I lay my head down to rest, I thought I might fall into a coma. My brother felt terrible too, and suffered from a migraine.

Eventually the dinner was served after, and I felt better after the small amount of food. But my brother was sick multiple times whilst trying to eat. I felt frustrated that the organiser had made no effort to check if he was okay; instead he continued eating his food.

The silver lining was the Irish friends we made; Ross and Gary. In their mid-fifties, with the skill of making a grim situation appear pleasant, they decided to leave the retreat early after 2 nights. It prompted us to cut our losses and spend our time elsewhere instead.

We traveled slightly towards Barcelona after leaving the retreat, staying in a modern apartment in Tarragona with air-conditioning - that also happened to be significantly cheaper than a single night of the retreat!

This week, I've been in Florence: home to Leonardo Da Vinci, and Michaelangelo. My brother and I took a flight from Barcelona to Italy to meet my parents during their trip. We saw the famous David sculpture, involving a nearly hour-long queue, with the local entertainment of street salesman laying out cheap posters on a busy pavement, waiting until someone accidentally stepped on it, so they could try and force them to purchase it.

When we first arrived in the city centre, we had a few minutes of bliss. Then the storm hit. Torrential rain. Thunder, lightning, the whole ordeal. The heavy rain lasted for multiple hours. My umbrella barely held up, and my trainers suffered.

Florence has fascinating architecture, mouth-watering food, yet an unusually fast pace. There is a strange combination of constant traffic, and speeding motorbikes through the city. So crossing the road becomes a risky and physiologically draining activity.

I'm now returning to Sheffield, where I'll have a couple days to repack before heading to the land of the rising sun (Japan). Though I've been to Japan once last year, I now plan to hike through the mountains south of Osaka. I'll be walking the Nakahechi route - part of the Kumano Kodo: a spiritual pilgrimage in Japan, and sister trail of the Camino de Santiago.