...continued Shortly after nine in the morning on August 9th, 2007 I took my first steps on Le Chemin de Saint Jacques de Compostelle. I was on The Way, and up and out of Le-Puy-en-Velay the hills climbed. They took me onto a plateau and instantly I was in the French countryside. Here, clouds came closer to the earth and fields rolled along with their grains of harvest. Cylindrical bails of hay were stacked in open country and tractors groaned through the quiet of the day. Slowly, I came upon my fellow pilgrims who attended the morning’s mass, as well as others who had not. We exchanged French pleasantries, spoke briefly in our first day’s excitement and proceeded walking our separate paces. One man I met was German. He started his pilgrimage some years back from ... read more

Slowly the landscape changed. From the English countryside—a run of wild horses and the dance of the summer’s breeze—everything around us transformed. The smells went from farmland to diesel and rubbish. The sounds went from the fresh streams of air to the movement of a city. But tastes became sweeter. Along the way, berries and plums became full in their ripeness and apples fell to the ground at our weary feet. London came and soon London would go. Hiroshima Day was approaching. Southall was a warm welcome. Throughout the English land we received the English hospitality; nothing shy of generosity and heaps of food. But the boroughs of London were unique, and Southall was the one among them. As though we immediately flew far from the west, a new lifestyle emerged within a city’s block. Our ... read more

Over the hills and far away, the Yorkshire Dales National Park unfolded before us. Slowly, Footprints for Peace headed east from Sellafield. Upon the fells of the Lake District, down to the fields and across an Area of Outstanding Beauty, we waded the waters. In our shoes pools formed, sufficiently pruning our feet. The blisters swelled and the afternoon’s sandwiches became soggy. Day in and day out, we were wet, as England received record rainfalls for the month of June. In one day’s time, the city of Sheffield found itself floating in 250mm of water. Summer, wasn’t it? Climates undeniably changed. The floods arrived throughout the land as our energies waned and the dynamics of the group teetered. And suddenly, swiping it all off our tables to begin anew, we strolled on to what appeared as ... read more

Sorry folks, here's another re-published article. We’re moving through The Glen. Ferns carpet the soils, sprouting from the beds of moss where thick shadows linger throughout the whole of the day. There is silence between the chattering of birds, and my eyes wander among the tree trunks. I see Merlin peering from behind a bough. He wears a tall, speckled hat. His eyes are sallow and white folds of hair dangle from about the face. Features are long, veiled in wizardry, and his robes blend into the glen’s mystique. He winks and disappears. The Peace Walk crosses the land, from Scottish countryside into the villages, towns and cities, and back out across the fields where livestock graze. A wind blows and carries a deep scent of manure. It stings our nostrils, causing us to breathe shallowly ... read more

Due to Travelblog's system failure, this article had to be re-published. Apologies, apologies... and Hi from London Blind History Ireland’s warm apple pie with a dollop of fresh cream was Belfast. I went into the city ignorant. I couldn’t recall any knowledge, any history or awareness except snippets of conflict and violence. Nothing in my textbook days could inform me of the current issues within the region. I remember the stress on American history… and American history. I remember creating colorful cornucopias around meals with friendly, newly arrived Europeans and hospitable natives dressed in tan loin clothe. I remember the civil war between the north and south and the abolition of slavery. I remember the World Wars, the Cold War, the presidencies within and between, and the Vietnam War (called “The American War” by Vietnamese in ... read more