From time to time, the Virginity Project likes to disappear off into the ether. There’s nothing quite like getting on a train at Kings Cross St Pancreas on a Saturday morning and knowing that when you get off, you will be somewhere quite different. This is exactly what I did the weekend before last. Eight hours of flashing windows and increasingly beautiful countryside later, I arrived in Toulouse. Another 60 minutes in a car and I was secreted deep into the countryside. Far away from cities, mobile phone signals and, in fact, anything that resembles my normal life. Trees, cows, grass and mountains. That’s it.
I was born in the countryside but you’d never believe it. The first time I stayed in this region twenty years ago, I didn’t sleep a wink for the first week because of the silence. I was so used to the early morning chorus of articulated trucks making their way past my bedroom window that their absence made me twitchy. Even with my boyfriend sleeping at my side, the silence meant only one thing to me. If there were any nutters in the region, and in my imagination there almost certainly were, they would be making their way round to our house and slipping in through our open window to murder ME in the middle of the night.
Clearly they didn’t get around to it on that time. These days I’m still slightly agitated after the first 48 hours in the countryside. It’s not just the silence. It’s that I do actually like being around people. I find them intriguing and inspiring and I want to sit and cafes and stations just looking at what the populace of other countries do. I can’t understand a word they are saying but it doesn’t matter. It’s different from my everyday life and it’s like having a drink of fresh water. I’m not generally in the business of travel journalism but if you do ever happen to be in the Ariege, you have to go to Mirepoix market on a Monday morning. It’s stuffed to the brim with outstanding (and overpriced) cheese, honey, cured meats and bread but it’s also like stepping onto a film set. It’s a beautiful medieval market place replete with herbalists, singers, knife sharpeners and animals. You never know what you might find. ‘I once saw a camel in Mirepoix market’ I said to my mother as we wondered around. ' That’s nothing’ she replied, ‘I saw a bear here once’. (Both true!)
But in the end, the silence got to me in a good way. I started waking early and wondering into the meadows. The weight and the glossiness of the morning dew was really something. I spent ages trying to take pictures of it. And then one day I flung the camera aside and dropped my face down into the grass to feel it. (Now I can say I’ve drunk real Mountain Dew).
But mostly I just sat on the grassy hillside with a cup of tea, unused notebook at my side just letting time pass by. It’s such a cliché but there are so few moments like that in life these days. I adore modern technology but it was so nice to get away from it. ‘Am officially in the Middle of Nowhere’, I tweeted one day. ‘I have to hang off the edge of a hill to send this tweet. But not entirely disliking that.’ My brother in law had mentioned how thrilled he was to hear the sound of a nightingale singing when he went walking one day. I didn’t really get that at first. And then I did. The morning chorus was something to behold. As was the most bizarre collection of insects I’ve ever plucked from a swimming pool in my life. Don’t sweat the small stuff they say. But it’s damn nice to sit and stare at it sometimes.
FYI if you are planning any trips of your own – and possess a kindle - there is a special offer on the downloadable version of my book ‘The First Time: True Tales of Virginity Lost & Found (Including my own) on Amazon right now. Enjoy & happy journeys!
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