I had to recognize the territory, as usual. Observing the people, taking the local air in and feeling what cannot be seen.
Just arrived to Northern England, where I´ll be teaching and performing this weekend (Joy Festival, ladies and gentlemen), and I´m already digging into every possible treasure I can find.
I´ve, immediately, found my survival essentials: an indian restaurant, a Costa coffee-shop and a gym. Ah! I´ve also found the Bronte Sisters home and already visited it, tasted it, fell in lust with it.
Some say I live fast – really fast. They´re (probably) absolutely right.
From Shipley to Keighly on a train with gorgeous landscapes taken from a movie; from Keighly to Haworth on a bus that took me way further than my destination. It took me to Wonder*land, yet again.
I´m discovering a new England: the North. Raw, honest, unpretensious, naked and deeply moving. You can feel people´s struggle, in this part of the country; you can feel their depth, non compromising, often sad depth. Am I falling in love with the North? Yes, lav, I am 🙂
Back to Shipley, the place where I´m staying: I had a run throughout Saltaire channel and headed to the gym. Then the funny bits started: that awckward moment when you find yourself at the gym in Northern England, training at a room filled with boxers outpouring testosterone, and they´re the ones who act intimitaded with your presence.
I, the only woman in the room, went about doing my train while they looked dazzled, disoriented but, not surprisingly, kind and acting like the gentlemen they ought to be.
Never underestimate a woman who´s been in hell, kissed it on the mouth and twisted it into heaven. Just sayin´…