Day 13

In the supermarket in Kevelaer you can buy edible flowers. They are carefully packed in lots plastic and styrofoam. They are very expensive. I buy my groceries and walk back to the campsite. Outside my tent there are two kinds of flowers. Edible. They don't cost anything.

A few days ago I saw a hairy pig grazing. He carefully removed all the dandelions and ate them. You could see where he had been in the field. In the back it was completely green, in the front he still had many yellow dots to go.

One of my tasks when I walk the road from the campsite to Kevelaer is to pet the donkey and the ram. Their field is empty, little left to eat. I feed them greens and flowers from my side of the fence. The sheep prefers white flowers. The donkey doesn't like them. He likes the yellow ones, but no dandelions.

Before I left I bought a nice e-book about edible wild plants by John Callas. There are some great simple recipies in there I would love to try. An appetizer of raw young dandelion buds soaked in extra virgine olive oil, marinated with rosemary and salt for example. Or boiled dandelion greens, drizzled with olive oil, a spritz of lemon, sprinkled with a touch of salt and dandelion flower petals.

I brought a small wood burner and a small pan to do my cooking experiments but I am starting to wonder if I will use them. Inbetween the walking, talking, writing, embroidering, collecting seeds, pieces of string, drinking coffee with strangers, finding a place to spend the night, taking care of my body, communicating with people online, there is little time for cooking. I don't even manage to throw a wild salad together. When I arrived in Kevelaer I felt stressed and sad. There is too much to do.

But is there really?

I have to get back to the beginning. What is this all about? Moving slowly through the world. Collecting stories. Being happy. Accept what you find on the road. Use it well.

There is only one person telling me what to do and that is me. I have to deal with the stress and the sadness first. So I stayed for three days close to this city where they worship Mary, Comforter of the Sad and the Distressed. And I received messages. More than once. They travel through the air, they are timeless. They come from everywhere.

I believe in friends. I miss them, but they travel with me. They are in my thoughts, I am in their thoughts. They send me poetry, music, small videos, words. I couldn't do this without them.

Long live the internet. Long live friendship. Long live this world where everything is possible.

(today's story is for my parents, 42 years ago they got married, 5 months later I was born)

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