Visiting the goat keepers

It was my first time visiting France in the middle of the summer and the fields were full of yellows and greens. Rows and rows of sunflowers all faced their heads towards the sun, up towards the clear blue sky.

Tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis, melons, prunes. Lots and lots of prunes. Dried prunes. Prunaux. Berries. Black berries, raspberries. So many berries. Berry bugs. I got bitten by lots of tiny berry bugs. It kept me awake at night. I would look up at the sky and I’d see stars - and forgave the little berry bugs for my sleepless nights.

There’s something about the place that keeps bringing me back. People, for sure. There’s also something else. The place makes me feel like I can just be - merely existing feels ok enough. Why is that.

During my last weekend, friends of friends of a friend invited me over to their hut in the mountains 2600m closer to the sun. They were goat keepers and spent their summers in the mountains caring for the goats.

We carried up some food and met up with them up in the mountains. We were also greeted by 4 dogs and 2 chickens. It was a sunny hot day and we went further up to a ‘swimming pool with an amazing view’ - they called it.

The water was cold but warm for a mountain lake so high above ground. We swam and dried our bodies against the cold wind while looking down at the biggest lake in the Pyrenees - Étang du Lanoux. It was so quiet up there. It was all ours.

Pyrenean chamois (l’isard), Royal eagle (l’aigle royale), vultures (gypaètes), a hole made by a marmotte …? We stayed up on peaks and crests till the sun was almost down. 8pm. The moon came up and said hi.

The goat keepers have set up a shower outside - definitely the shower with the best view. While running water through my body, looking out at the dusky sky (is that a real word?), it made me wonder the possibilities of how I should define how a life should look like outside of what I’ve known.

I grew up in the largest cities of the world - born in Tokyo, then moved to Cairo, London, back to Tokyo … and now to Berlin. For a long time, adulting for me was sitting in an office to pay the rent, wearing suits, commuting on packed trains between people’s armpits and eating dinners alone. That’s what I saw growing up. My family always moved wherever my father’s company told us to. Which is why, I told myself that if I had to adult, I would decide for myself where I would live, with whom and how. I made my first step when I moved to Berlin - first time deciding where I wanted to live. I do like Berlin, but it’s a transient city. People come and go. There’s some excitement and newness to that which I do like. But I’ve always longed for connections a bit more lasting and meaningful - and also the time that would allow to mature such relationships. And that I find difficult in a city like Berlin. Then I start to wonder, what would it be like to live in a smaller city, or not even a city, a town with only a few dozen people? Would I be able to do that? Would I even want that? Or am I just romanticising? (I’m definitely romanticizing to a certain degree. )

Meeting friends in the mountains made me question a lot of things about where I’d like to settle in the future, or whether I’d like to settle anywhere at all.