I hate to go all hippy on you here, but once I got away from Burgos, I started noticing birds, and flowers, tiny snails crossing the road in front of me. And the wind. How extraordinary that the wind sounds so different passing through different trees.
The way the water rushes under the bridges, the crunch of gravel under my boots, the tapping of hiking poles, or the even sound of bike tires that tells me someone is coming up behind – all of this surrounded by endless vistas of Spain.
And the languages! Just today: German, Portuguese, French, English, Spanish, Italian. And one language that sounded a bit like Polish or Czech, but I didn’t want to ask.
Tumbleweed Pilgrim 